#like. quiet contemplative driving down a road while your friends are asleep in the back type sad vs the.

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

TRANCH TRADE TRANCH TRADE TRANCH TRADE. throwing this at ur helmet so it bounces off in a goofy way

YAYYYYY TRANCH TRADE I LOVE IT HERE IN THE MUD AND GOOP AND BLOOD AND VISCERA!!!!!!!!

ohhhhh winnebago descriptions....... i loooove the winnebago i love the "living in their car and shitty motels bc they have nowhere else to go and are also on a huge fucked up road trip" energy..... ohhhh vyncent pov save me vyncent pov. see now you have to write a dakota pov to complete the set. 3 of them do not separate !!!!!

DESPERATELY SCROUNGING AROUND IN THE MUD for bits of my william fic i can share with you that arent MASSIVE fucking spoilers. hes going thru it a little . also this is insanely unedited bc i have just been writing it in little bursts at midnight+ :

alsooooo a little tiny bit of trickster dialogue from the mark nightmare fic (WHICH. BTW. is officially the longest thing I have written for fun in the last like 3 or 4 years holy shit. i officially crossed the 3k word threshhold yesterday everyone cheer and clap) :

[glitterge1pen]

Um Hello? Roadtrip Bonding?

Shoto Todoroki  x reader, sfw, fluff?, word count 717,

shout out to @red-kewpie-cap​ for this idea and concept!!! Go check out their stuff :P 

It was Shoto’s turn to drive again and you had ended up in the passenger seat. Shoto was a cautious, steady driver, he was the one who suggested getting a map at the gas station for when the service would eventually go out on the road. You didn't really need the map, since the GPS on the phone still worked, but you had unfolded it and were reading over your route to pass the time.

Your friends were asleep in the backseats. The AC on, the sky outside gray, like rain could break at any moment, and Shoto had the radio on the classical station. Driver got to pick music to maintain peace in the car. Usually Shoto let you use his phone to choose the music while he drove but it had died some miles back.

“Is this the type of music you like?”

“Huh? Shoto, it’s a radio?”

“Huh? Shoto, it’s a radio?”

“Huh? Shoto, it’s a radio?”

“Yeah, but by the time I was old enough to drive the car I got had a screen and bluetooth,”

You nod understanding.

“But what about when you were younger? You never had to change the station? Not even once?”

Shoto gave a shrug.

“My family has drivers, we sit in the back,”

Whenever Shoto said ‘family’, you got an uneasy feeling in your gut. Not ever sure what would come out of Shoto's mouth next. He rarely had any average experiences or platitudes to add when it came to family conversation.

“Well, did you ever have a favorite station?”

Shoto contemplates. The road was empty, it had been for about an hour now, nothing but farmers fields and muddy soil this far out. When you looked at him, his bright hair stood out against what had become dull scenery.

“Natsuo and Fuyumi, they used to play music in Fuyumi’s room sometimes after Enji would go to bed. It would always be really late. I’m not sure how I would even manage to wake up. The music was never loud. But I would sit on Fuyumi’s bed too tired to dance with them.”

He slows the car, the first turn in forty five minutes was approaching.

“It was one of those top hits stations, because after an hour the songs would loop. I’d whisper the few lyrics I knew, and I’m pretty sure they would carry me back to my room. I was years younger than them and fell asleep faster. Fuyumi still has that radio, it's pink, has a cat on it. Hello kitty, it has Hello Kitty on it. “

The car turns. You shift in your seat a little, waiting for Shoto to tell you more but he is quiet once again. He stares off, seemingly done reminiscing. Then he perks up, his back perfectly straight as he takes his eyes off the road to look at you.

“Sorry for telling you all that, I didn't mean too,”

“It’s okay, I don't mind at all,”

You say reassuring him. You reach for the volume dial and turn it down lower.

“What type of music did they used to play?”

“I guess you would call it pop,”

“And how old were you?”

“Seven or eight, maybe even six”

You talk in the softest voice you can muster. Showing him how to tune the radio, which buttons pop open the tape deck or let you put CD’s in. How to mute, stop, rewind. You cruise through the stations easily, listening intently for a particular type of station.

You clench your fists in silent triumph when you catch the station. There was always a station like this, no matter where you went. The talk show host was closing out their segment.

“Up next it's everyone's favorite hour, our 90s to the 10’s forever hits! First up is SOS by Rihanna followed by Mariah Carey’s Heartbreaker! Enjoy folks!”

Shoto looks at the radio suspiciously. Like it knows something about him. Then he turns to you mumbling out his words, shy, and avoiding your gaze.

“Thank you”

༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

A/N: I’m back!!! Kinda. Presumably. Maybe. Have been super tired lately but hopefully I can write some more. First tine writing Shoto too :p he's a little goofball :p Also I mentioned it early in this post but this piece is really only thanks to @red-kewpie-cap​ !!!!

[ack3rlady]

The Universe Had His Back - Chapter 5

Sunrise

Summary: The aftermath of the breathtaking encounter between reader and Levi when true feelings are revealed

Chapters: Four | Five | Six

Master List

Warnings: Fem! Reader, Angst, Fluff, Modern AU, Reference to alcohol abuse, slight swearing.

Word Count: ~ 2.5k

Inspiration: Starry Night - Suho

Tags: @sooibian, @queenofcurse, @red-n-tall ; Anyone else who'd like to be tagged, please let me know!

You accepted Levi’s offer to drive you home, a decision you would come to regret the moment the car was in motion. The journey was quiet, with you mostly looking out of the window as he drove. Your greed for more time with him that you didn’t account for how dejected you would go on to feel once the adrenaline dried out. You hadn't exactly ended things with him on amicable terms. The ride home in his company just added salt to the unhealed wounds. Levi turned his head towards you several times like he wanted to say something, but didn't.

“How’s Luna?”, your words finally cut through the silence, voice low and shaky.

“She’s fine. Isabel stayed at home with her today.”, he responded, eyes focused on the road.

Then it was quiet again. It took all the strength to bottle up the multitude of emotions building up within you that were burning to be expressed. So, you decided to focus your attention on the row of lush green trees along the sidewalk, whirring past you.

Levi quelled his desire to lay his hand on yours more than once; intertwining your fingers snugly together while you ran soothing circles on the back of his palm - something he always did while driving with you by his side.

‘Old habits die hard’, he thought. Neither of you uttered a word again till your apartment building was around the corner. You sat glued to your seat, unmoving even after he parked.

“You know that you could just come see her, right? She asks about you every day.”, Levi’s gaze was still fixed on the car parked in front of his own, his voice barely audible.

You sighed, feeling ashamed for depriving your own baby of your presence.

“I’m not ready. What if I can't keep it together in front of her? I need to get better before she sees me.” you despaired, looking down at your feet, too afraid of the effect on Luna if she saw you like this.

“I’m going to be right there with you. And how do you expect to get any better if you deny yourself the exact person who is capable of making you feel so?”, Levi turned in his seat to face you, placing a firm hand on your shoulder.

He was right. Of course, Luna was the only one who could pull you out of this abyss. Why had you been running away from her this whole time?

“C-Can I come see her after work tomorrow?”, you squeaked.

“You don’t have to ask. We’ll both be waiting for you.”, he whispered moving his hand to rest on top of yours.

You finally mustered up the courage to look towards him. He wore the same smile on his face that you had been in love with for the last eight years; the exact one that always assured you that everything was going to be okay.

.

Reader’s POV

You entered your apartment and laid the shopping bags on the counter. Taking off your shoes, you placed them neatly on the rack by the door, taking a little step towards keeping the word you gave Miche this morning. It was late in the evening; the Sun having just set. You glanced around your gloomy apartment, at the dark shadows and how even the brightest colored paints and fabrics looked somber in the dusk’s dullness. The eeriness of the space was starting to eat at you when something shiny on the kitchen platform caught your eye. It was a bottle of whiskey, its amber liquid gleaming in the residual rays of light entering through the window.

The conflict in your head began as you started walking towards it absentmindedly. Was tonight going to be the same as the other wretched ones of the last two weeks? Faces of Luna, Levi, Miche and Nanaba flashed before our eyes as you inched towards the humble kitchenette. Finally at your destination, you picked up the bottle and stared at it, putting up a hard fight against the demons in your head.

You jumped when the door to your apartment suddenly slammed open, making the bottle almost slip out of your hands.

"Sweets!", A loud voice called out to you, the light from the window reflecting off the intruder’s glasses.

It was a moniker given to you by your dear friend based on "your profession and character" as they liked to call it. But the truth was, it was a part of the 'couple name' they had created for you and Levi called 'Short and Sweet', earning them a few punches from the holder of the other half of the title.

“Hange, you almost gave me a heart attack! What are you doing barging into my apartment like this?”, you grumbled.

“Well, your door was unlocked. So, how was your run in with Shorty? Tell me everyth... What the fuck is that?”, they began with excitement, but it dissipated as soon as they switched the lights on and spotted what you held in your hands.

You looked like a thief caught in the act. Guilty.

“It-It's nothing. I wasn’t drinking it.”, you stuttered, hastily putting it away.

“You mean you hadn't started drinking it yet?”

They were probably right. That’s how your evenings usually began these days. You tried your hardest to conquer the need for a drink, only to eventually give in and ending up passed out somewhere in your apartment.

Your train of thought was interrupted by a knock. Miche and Nanaba tiptoed inside through the still unlocked door with guilty smiles, as if ready to turn on their heels in case if you decided to chase after them.

“So? How did it go with Ackermann?”, they asked eagerly in unison.

“Wait. Was my day broadcasted in the news or something? How do you already know?”, your face had a giant question mark stamped on it.

“Who do you think brought it all together?”, Hange grinned, proudly wiggling their eyebrows.

You furrowed yours, and audibly gasped seconds later when it hit you. The sequence of events played before your eyes; how each person you had seen today and led to you meeting Levi. First Miche and Nanaba, then Suki. Your jaw slacked, and you gaped at each one of them in complete disbelief at what they had just pulled off.

Miche quietly slithered to position himself closely beside you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders – a little too tight. Well, you were contemplating introducing their jaws to your fist, so you guessed he was just being cautious.

“Who else knew of this?”, you hissed.

“Not Shorty, if that’s what you’re asking. I cooked up the idea. But it was Erwin who played commander and assigned roles! Everything from you and Levi having the same day off work, Suki and Furlan pestering you two into going with them, Nanaba and Miche forcing you out of here, Isabel staying home with Luna so that Levi could leave, and now us being here to witness the success of our little project, it was brought together by him. In fact, Erwin is checking in on Levi as we speak!”, Hange exclaimed triumphantly.

You felt stupid after finding out that you and Levi got played by practically everyone you knew. How were they this good at keeping it under wraps?

“Why did you do this?” You asked.

“Because you are both too stupid realize how crazy you are about each other and how this estrangement is paining you. So, we just decided to nudge you in the right direction. You’re welcome, by the way!”, Nanaba grinned.

“What are you even talking about? He’s the one who willingly ended what we had.”, you despaired.

The memories of the months preceding the divorce were fresh in your mind. Levi couldn’t stand being in the same room as you for more than a few minutes at a time, constantly falling out with you over something or the other. You remembered how much it hurt when he always seemed irritated by your sheer presence.

“Rubbish! You should know by now that Shorty is a complete moron with his feelings. Don’t you remember how long he stalled asking you out on a date all those years ago? And also, how I finally had to ask you for him? This is history repeating itself, silly!”, Hange chuckled, gently flicking your forehead

“Erwin and I see him every day, Sweets. We know how much he regrets letting you go. But he’s too much of a chicken to do anything about it. We’ve been badgering him to reconnect with you for a while now. But he was terrified of making a move. The dumbass is utterly in love with you. Precisely why Erwin and I decided to take matters in our own hands.”, they stated matter of factly.

The barrage of information caught you completely off guard. But you couldn’t help but dwell on one detail in particular -

“He’s still in love with me?”

.

Levi’s POV

Levi felt restless on the drive back home, aimlessly fidgeting with his seatbelt and rapidly tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He was worried about you. Well, he always was, but more so because of what happened today. He suppressed the constant urges to turn his car around and return to you because he needed to get home to Luna and relieve Isabel of her baby-sitting duties.

He parked the car in the driveway and walked through the front door, momentarily freezing upon seeing a tall blonde man seated on the couch with Luna half asleep on his lap, immediately relaxing after recognizing who it was. He was reading her a story from one of the many books you had bought while Isabel was lounging on the loveseat beside them, her face glowing under the light from her phone screen. All three turned to Levi upon hearing the jingling of his keys.

“Papa!”, the little one was refreshed by the sight. She ran to greet her father by wiggling her way off the man’s lap and on to the floor and hugged is leg.

“Hi, moon beam! Erwin, what are you doing here?”, he asked as he gave Luna a kiss and then looked up at the man.

“I’m here to check in on you. How was your meeting with uh... ahem?”, Erwin cleared his throat instead of mentioning your name in the toddler’s presence.

“Check in on me? How do you know about that? What did you do?”, Levi’s temper audibly rose with each question.

“I’m going to tuck Luna into bed, and you are going to wait right here for my return. We need to have a little chat.” he glowered at the taller blonde before he could answer, ignoring the sheepish smile slapped across his little sister’s face.

Luna was out cold the moment her head rested on the pillow given how worn out she was after horsing around with Isabel all day. Additionally, story time with Erwin already had her feeling drowsy by the time Levi had returned home. Ten minutes and a few goodnight kisses later, he was sitting at the dining table with the two adults, sipping tea that Erwin had just brewed.

“When do you plan to start telling me what is going on? I could have had dinner during the wait.”, he jibed.

“I take it that Suki and Furlan were successful in bringing you two face-to-face?”, Erwin’s tone was casual, maintaining steady eye contact with his old friend.

He proceeded to explain in great detail, how he and Hange worked with both your close friends to hatch this plan.

“Can’t you two keep your eyebrows and shitty glasses out of my fucking business?”, Levi growled.

“Since you both can’t communicate like mature adults and figure things out for yourselves, we had to step in as catalysts. Hange is at her apartment right now, making sure she’s okay.”, Erwin kept his defense short.

Levi was at a loss of words. Sometimes he felt like he wasn’t worthy of his two friends. Hange and Erwin always went out of their way for him when he was hit with a challenging situation, and all he ever did was snivel about it.

“Fine. I’ll give you both credit where you deserve it. I had been wanting to see her myself. But I didn’t know what to say. She is coming over tomorrow to see Luna. So, thanks, I guess.”

Erwin knew that this was the closest thing to an apology and appreciation that he was going to get from Levi. So, he took it with a smile.

“Awesome!”, Isabel's scream cut through the calmness.

“And you.”, his fiery gaze landed on her at the far end of the table where she strategically seated herself away from the reach of her older brother in case if he was particularly irked. “I’m going to take care of Furlan later. But you too are hiding things from me now?”,

“Hey! I was just following Erwin's orders! And how could I say no to having my favorite person all to myself for an entire day?”, she reasoned, her face resembling a cartoon cat that Luna was fond of; Puss in Boots, was it?

“So, how did it go?”, Erwin intervened before Levi could scold her further.

Levi took a minute to gather his thoughts. Images of your face flashed before his eyes, making his tense posture relax significantly.

“I - I don’t even know how to describe it. I feel like for the first time in forever, I might sleep well tonight just because I met her. She looked so beautiful.”, his lips showed signs of the smallest smile as he ran his fingers along the rim of his teacup, gazing at the dark liquid contained within.

He quickly composed himself after realizing that he had in fact just said these words out loud and they were not just in his head, but it was too late. Isabel oohed with amusement and yelped after receiving a flying spoon to the head from him.

“It was also... a stark reminder of what an absolute piece of shit I have been to throw away everything we had. She’s in so much pain.”, his softened expression clearly revealed the despair behind his words.

“As are you, Levi. You made a grave mistake. Unfortunately, you're not the only one who is paying for it. But there is no use lamenting over the past, is there? What counts is what you plan to do now. Have you decided what you will say to her when she visits?”

Levi let out a long, suffering sigh. “I regretted what I did the moment I came back to an empty home from the court that day, Erwin. Seeing her today only reaffirmed how shitty my life is without her. I need to win her back. I’m afraid she’ll reject me after what I did to her. But - But she still needs to know that I -

I’m still in love with her.”

Chapters: Four | Five | Six

[willowandfog]

Taking Flight

Summary: Kagome has been struggling with her disability most of her life but she's never felt anything but normal with Inuyasha always steadily by her side. But when her neurologist approaches her with the chance to recover full use of her leg, she takes it.

A childhood friends to lovers, soulmates AU

Read on AO3 or Below the Cut

Sorry this is a day late, work got in the way and I literally fell asleep at my desk yesterday trying to write this chapter ^.^

See you soon for chapter six, first date!

Kagome would never let Inuyasha find out about the fact that she had brought work with her. It really needed to get done, and even though she was technically already on vacation she felt responsible for it. Besides, she knew that she would need the distraction it would bring. She was staying with her mother, Inuyasha and herself had reluctantly agreed to sleep apart for the night. 

Stupid tradition. She thought. It’ll be good for you guys, they said. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they said. 

Kagome rolled her eyes and sighed. Leaning back she tried to loosen her shoulders and relax a little further into the tub. She would admit that it had been nice to just sit and have some girl time over a lovely dinner with her mother and Izayoi, and her grandfather adding in cheeky commentary every now and then. Steam rose from amongst the lavender scented bubbles as Kagome closed her eyes and shifted her head, trying to get her neck into a more comfortable position, the loose tendrils that framed her face growing damp from the brief dip into the tub. 

The tension in her body began to melt away and she hummed in appreciation. 

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Inuyasha was in a daze as he sat on their comfortable tan couch. He was in Kagome’s normal spot because it held her scent more than anywhere else, other than the bed; but he decided he wasn’t going to be that guy, laying in bed missing her, yet. The television was on but he wasn’t paying attention, he was missing her; he’d been away from her before, obviously. But never like this, not in a long time, not since they had both turned eighteen and moved into the apartment together. They spent their work days apart but they always, always were together while they slept. It helped soothe them both, him more so with his youkai instincts screaming at him to bond with her. When she was safe and content in his arms he was settled, he was at peace with himself, mostly. He found that the youkai was most quiet when he was being intimate with Kagome and they had been abstaining from that for the past week. 

He sighed, throwing his head back. He felt like there were bugs crawling under his skin, like his youkai was going to claw out of his body and rip the door off its hinges and go find its mate. He knew where she was staying, of course; she was spending the night at her mother’s, but knowing he wouldn’t see her till tomorrow afternoon, and the thought of sleeping without her was driving him crazy. A knock on his door snapped him out of his stupor. 

Kagome! No, stupid, Kagome wouldn’t need to knock. 

With a sigh, he rose to answer the door. When the door swung open he let out an audible groan.

“What do you guys want?”

“Greetings, my liege. Thy fair maiden has bestowed upon us a quest.” Miroku grinned at him as he presented his arm full of liquor bottles. 

“What the hell are you talking about and why are you talking like that?”

“Because he already started drinking in the car and you pick the weirdest friends.” Kouga stated from his position behind Miroku, arms folded across his chest.

Inuyasha sighed. “So why are you guys here?” He stepped to the side to allow them inside.

“Thy maiden-”

“No.” Inuyasha said as he closed the door. “You, speak.” He pointed to Kouga before crossing his arms and continuing. “Why are you here? I’m not great company right now.”

Kouga raised a brow as he ventured over to the couch, just as he was about to sit Inuyasha let out a fierce growl.

“I don’t think so, wolf.” Inuyasha spoke through gritted teeth. “You will sit over there.” He pointed to the armchair. “Don’t think I don’t know why you zeroed in on that spot.” Inuyasha went over and sat in the spot Kouga had tried to claim. 

Kouga rolled his eyes before moving to the chair. “Kagome sent us over as the idiot said. She thought it would be best if you had friends over to help you make it through the night. Well technically she said ‘could you guys go over and have a guys night, Inuyasha might have a tough time by himself.’”

Inuyasha’s heart ached and he found himself rubbing a hand across his chest. Of course she would make sure he wasn’t alone without her. She was the most amazing, thoughtful person in the world. She was so sweet, kind, and never selfish. She should never have to do anything for herself, she should be taken care of, always. 

Inuyasha suddenly stood, he had to go to Kagome, she might need him. He had almost reached the door when Kouga was blocking the way, holding a hand up as if that would stop him. 

“Move. I’m going to Kagome, screw this sleeping apart shit.” 

Kouga didn’t move. “Come on, Inuyasha. It’s just one night, Kagome is safe at her mother’s and you’ll see her tomorrow. You’re getting married tomorrow, the next time you see her she will be walking down the aisle to pledge herself to you. You’re a man, not a wild animal, pull yourself together.” 

Kouga rested his hands on Inuyasha’s shoulders and turned him around, giving him a nudge back towards the couch. “Now go sit, let Miroku pour you a drink and we can hang out and be bros or whatever.”

Miroku handed Inuyasha one of the bottles of bourbon he had set on the coffee table before sitting on the opposite end of the couch.

“Really?” Inuyasha questioned him, sitting. “You think trying to get me drunk will help with my decision making and that I might feel less like shit about the fact that she’s not here?”

Miroku shrugged. “Nah. Just thought a little might help you relax. Try not to be so aggressive, your mate is fine, you’ll see her tomorrow, and for now you sit and relax and hang out with your friends.”

Inuyasha sighed as he twisted open the bottle and took a swig. “So why are you here? We aren’t friends, acquaintances at best.” 

Kouga let out a chuckle. “‘Cause Kagome and I are friends, and she asked me to come over. She wanted someone that would be able to help in case you went all crazy youkai on Miroku trying to leave the apartment.”

“Ok, ok. Fine. I know that this is something that Kagome agreed to, and she obviously wants to stick with it, so I’ll try my best to reign in the urge to bolt out of here. Pick up a bottle Kouga, let’s get drunk.”

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

Kagome sat on the guest bed, back propped up against the headboard, her comfortable Slytherin pajama bottoms on paired with one of Inuyasha’s shirts that was far too large on her small frame. Her damp hair was thrown into a messy bun on top of her head and she had her work laptop in her lap. As she typed furiously away on her computer her mind kept trying to wander. She wondered if Inuyasha was holding up ok, knowing that this separation would be harder on him with his need to bond. 

Checking the time, she knew that Miroku and Kouga must be there by now, she hoped they were distracting him. She contemplated texting one of them to make sure they were over there and that things were going alright, but decided against it since she knew that Inuyasha would have a harder time if he knew she was worrying over him. She was briefly curious to know what they were doing to occupy their time but decided against that line of thoughts so she tried to focus back on her work. 

When she found her thoughts straying again sometime later, she closed her laptop on a huff. Climbing from the bed, she placed her laptop back into her bag before making her way to the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed. As she was brushing her teeth she thought about Inuyasha, and how he had always placed her needs first. Hell, he had built his life around her, his career was even chosen for her benefit. Wanting to be able to take care of her the best that he could, he had gone into physical therapy, spending years in school and gaining his doctorate. 

The surgery she had undergone had worked as well as could have been expected, she could mostly walk correctly, she had a noticeable limp at times but never required her crutch, and when her leg would get sore or start cramping up, she would just wear her leg brace and everything would be fine. Now that she didn’t need constant therapy, she wondered if Inuyasha would think or want to change specialties. She hadn’t had the opportunity to speak with him about it yet, with her healing and rehabilitation after the surgery and with the upcoming wedding, but she made a note to do so soon. 

She would be forever grateful that he had chosen a physical therapy career, but it also caused her some guilt every now and then. He had picked his path because of her; if she hadn’t had her stupid injury, would he still have gone down that road? She didn’t think he would have, and she would make sure that he knew how much she loved him for his decision but that he didn’t have to stay in a career that he didn’t enjoy, especially if there was something else he would rather be doing. 

She snuggled under the covers, tugging the extra pillow over to cuddle with, wishing once again that she was back home with Inuyasha. 

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

“I still can’t believe you tried to kiss her!” Miroku burst into another round of hysterical laughter, almost toppling off his seat. “You’re so lucky,” he sucked in a breath between his laughs, “that Kagome is so soft-hearted. Inuyasha,” more laughter escaped him, “Inuyasha would’ve killed you!”

Kouga tried to resist Miroku’s contagious laughter but couldn’t, finding himself chuckling even as he glared at him. “Well, i-s was worth it; I was a hair's breaths away from being Kagome’s fir-rsst kiss. If I would ‘ave kissed her and died as a result, it would have been worth it.” 

Inuyasha growled. “Watch it.”

“What?” Kouga gasped in feigned disbelief. “You should take that as a compl-lment. Your mate is highly dessirable and she wants only you. If the roles were r-reversed here, and gods do I wish they were, I’d be rubbing it in your face. If I got to touch that perfects body, and kiss those lus-...luscious lips and smell her delicious c-”

Inuyasha pounced, tackling Kouga from his spot on the edge of the chair and rolling with him to the ground. They rolled over one another over and over, both trying to get the upper hand, both too drunk and uncoordinated to function well. 

“Here’s an idea,” Kouga said between the rolls, “we should hav-a rematch, winner getsss to marryy ‘Gome tomorrow.”

Inuyasha jumped to his feet, swaying, and put his fists in the air. “You got it. Y-your’s so going dow..n” He tilted his head as if confused by his own words. “Kick yooour ass again.”

Kouga slowly rose, using the back of the chair for balance. “Dream on, doggie...dog boooy.” 

When Kouga took a wavery step towards Inuyasha, raising his own fists, a loud snore snapped both of their attention to the couch. Miroku lay sprawled out on the couch face down, arm dangling off the side, empty bottle dangling from his fingers. 

Inuyasha dropped his arms and straightened. “Better idea. I go lay on ‘Gome’s sside of the bed, and dream ‘bout how ‘morrow she’ll be my wife and my soul bond-ded mate.”

“Nooo.” Kouga whined as Inuyasha stumbled towards the bedroom. “Come back, fight. I wanna marry ‘Gome.”

“Dream on, wolf.” 

As Inuyasha dropped face first into the bed, he pulled Kagome’s pillow close, snuggling his face in deep as he held it tight to his chest. He breathed in a deep breath of her scent, missing the chirp from his pocket, as he quickly succumbed to his drunken sleep. 

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

Kagome laid there, staring into the darkness, realizing that she couldn’t sleep without the sound of Inuyasha’s soft snoring and his warmth surrounding her. She groaned at herself as she felt the beginnings of tears start to form, swiping at her cheeks when they escaped. Giving in, she rolled over and grabbed her cell phone from the night stand. Rolling back into her spot, she sent a text to Inuyasha, telling him that she couldn’t sleep and that she thought hearing his voice might help.

She lay staring at her phone, waiting for almost an hour before she decided that he must have gone to sleep already. Putting Friends on the television, she laid on her side and hoped that sleep would come soon. 

@ruddcatha @superpixie42 @dawnrider @smmahamazing @bluejay785 @lavendertwilight89 @mamabearcat @fawn-eyed-girl @clearwillow @i-dream-of-soup @liz8080 @zelink-inukag @malditamigs

[tanzaniiite]

05. A Mess

protective [nishinoya yuu x fem!reader]

warnings: being drunk & vomiting

word count: 1.5k

a/n: whattt? a written chapter in a smau?? it’s more likely than you think, enjoy! 😚

series masterlist

Dealing with a drunk Noya was always a struggle.

Yes, you’ve been to several parties with him and even though his drunk antics never failed to put a smile on your face… you did hate the clean up portion of things. Most people became a certain type of way when they were drunk. Y’know the typical; elated, depressed, emotional, flirty, quiet and loud drunks. Yuu was a combination of emotional and loud. The loud portion wasn’t the issue because Nishinoya was naturally loud. The issue was the emotional portion. He became uncharacteristically clingy and very talkative. His favorite topic of conversation was telling the person closest to him how much he loved them. Although it was endearing at first it can get real annoying, real fast. But then again, you were used to drunk Nishinoya whereas Kenma was not.

“H-h-h-heyyy Y/n! Did youuuu know–“ Noya slurred, poking your arm, “– that I love you sooo much” He claimed, giving you a drunken smile. You smiled slightly and patted his head as he snuggled into your side. “Yes Yuu, I know. I love you too” You replied, making eye contact with Kenma through the rear-view mirror. He gave you a tired look that you returned with a sheepish smile. “Sorry” You mouthed, continuing you to pet Noya’s head softly.

The plan was originally to just lay Nishinoya on the backseat and you were going to sit in the front with Kenma. But Yuu insisted that you sit in the back with him and proceeded to cry when you tried to sit in the front. The blonde just shook his head before focusing his eyes back on the road.

“Your friend is a mess”

He deadpanned, glancing at the GPS that had Nishinoya’s address inputted in it. Before you could even respond, Noya shot up, successfully hitting your chin in the process. “Ow..” You muttered, feeling your mouth fill with a metallic-like taste. “I-I’m not a mess! Mayyybe you’re the mess! Yeah, you’re the mess” Yuu huffed, crossing his arms like a two year old that didn’t get their way. Kenma sighed inwardly, “Sure buddy” He responded, not really paying your drunk friend any mind. You, on the other hand, were quietly suffering with your now-sore tongue.

“How long till we get there?” You asked, trying not to irritate your tongue too much. “About 10 minutes.. you staying with him or do you want me to drive you home?” Kenma asked. You contemplated on that for a bit, you were going to just get him into bed and then head home but with how clingy he was now that wouldn’t be easy. Plus you’ve spent the night with Noya plenty times before, what’s one more? “Uh, I’ll stay with him. I’ll just head home in the morning” You answered. Kenma raised an eyebrow at you, “Really? Even after he drunkenly confessed to you?” He asked, genuinely curious. You looked down at Yuu who was fast asleep on your lap. “Yeah, he’s still my best friend. I don’t want him choking on his own throw up or going through a massive hangover by himself,” You looked at Kenma through the rear-view mirror again, “I’ll be fine” You stated, confirming his real suspicion.

“If you say so”

Golden light streamed through the windows causing Noya to groan loudly. Opening his eyes blearily, he quickly closed them back due to sunlight being directed right in his eyes. Rolling over to get away from the brightness, Yuu squeaked as he was met face to face with a sleeping you. For a moment, he thought he was hallucinating. You could have hangover hallucinations, right? But that crazy theory went out the window when he saw your nose twitch in the cutest way possible. As he looked you over, you were in the same clothes that you were in last night. He furrowed his eyebrows, wondering why you didn’t just wear one of his shirts.

Then it dawned on him that you were suppose to be at the party with Oikawa, so why were you here with him? Did something happen? All his memories from last night were incredibly hazy and trying to remember made his throbbing headache even worse. So he decided to let it go for now. Sitting up slowly, trying to be courteous of your sleeping form, Noya noticed he was in nothing but his boxers. …why the hell was he only in his boxers? Did you guys… no because your clothes were still on. Wait! What if you guys.. dry humped or something? He remembers a classmate saying that they did something like that once in a drunken stupor.

Noya shook his head to dispel those thoughts. You were dating Oikawa and you didn’t even see him in that way, of course nothing happened. No matter how badly he wanted it things to be different. Letting out a dejected sigh, Yuu got up and stretched while heading over to the blinds to shut out the sun.

“Morning sleeping beauty”

The short man jumped, startled, quickly turned to face you. His heart got caught in his throat as you looked up at him from your spot on his bed. Man, he had it bad. “Hey bestie” He chirped, forcing a smile. He would have to wallow in sorrow about his one-sided crush another time. You giggled and sat up, stretching your arms as you did so. “You’re awfully chipper for someone with a hangover” You acknowledged, nodding towards his desk, that had a cup of water and aspirin. Noya gave you a sheepish smile and took the aspirin. Sitting next to you, he leaned his head on your shoulder.

“You’re a life saver”

“I know, what would you do without me?”

‘I have absolutely no idea’ He thought, fiddling with his fingers. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, you were checking your phone and Yuu couldn’t help but notice the look of distress on your face. “You okay?” He asked, looking at you. You shut your phone off and tossed it to the side, nodding slightly. “Okay, here’s a question I’ve been dying to ask: why am I in my boxers?” He inquired. He watched you grimace before answering, “When Kenma dropped us off, you threw up by the entrance of the dorms. It got all over your clothes” You responded, looking very disgusted.

Noya looked just as disgusted, if not, more so. “Ugh, sorry about that” He apologized. You waved your hand dismissively, “It’s fine, this isn’t my first time taking care of you and it won’t be the last. Just don’t throw up on me, ‘kay?” You proposed, holding out your pinky to him. “I’ll try my best” He promised, locking his pinky with yours. Looking around the small dorm he noticed Tanaka wasn’t here, “Did Tanaka come back last night?” He asked.

You shook your head, “No, but I think he’s with your friends Daichi and Sugawara” You replied. Nishinoya’s blushed a bit at what he was about to ask next, “So, uh, so why did you sleep with me? Y’know.. instead of in Tanaka’s bed?” He inquired, desperately trying to cool his flushed cheeks. But you didn’t even seem to notice as you started laughing. “Because you wouldn’t let me go, I think you’ve forgotten how clingy you get when your drunk Nishi” You explained, still laughing.

Now Noya couldn’t tell if he was blushing from embarrassment or the cute nickname you gave him that was solely used by yourself. Suddenly a bunch of ping!’s erupted from your phone, you picked it up and looked at the messages. Catching a quick glimpse at your phone, he noticed they were all from Oikawa. Yuu frowned slightly, ‘Possessive much?’ He thought. But he quickly dropped the frown as you turned back to him. “I should get going.. Oikawa’s getting worried” You explained, getting up from his bed.

“It’s only 10:53, it’s still early. Don’t you want breakfast or something?” He asked, he really didn’t want you to leave. You shook your head slightly, “No, I’m good. I’ll eat later” You declined, putting your shoes on. Noya got up and scrambled to find some clothes, “Well at least let me walk you back to your dorm. Nobody’s out this early, it could be dangerous”. You chuckled softly and placed a hand on Yuu’s shoulder. “Nishi, I appreciate the concern, but I’ll be alright. My dorm isn’t that far from yours. Plus you have a hangover and need to rest” You say, pushing Noya back on his bed. “But–“ He started. You hugged him and Nishinoya prayed that you couldn’t feel his rapid heartbeat. He restrained pulling you back to him as you pulled away.

“I’ll text you the minute I get home, okay?”

…

“Okay”

taglist [open]: @chaseyui @thepanadapopo @multisun @shegrewupwithoutafather @differentballooncollection @blkanimegyal @spencers-abit-weebish @hofortendou @lovinnoya @unstableye @mirukobecomingbothered @nekoma-hoe @boldygotobed @sunaswife @bakucherie @softhorts @shypuff21 @rachelexe @mariachiii @peachiikichu @angyboibakugo @lustingfor5sos @ptv-hades @helloshoutohere @kageyamauwu1 @darcytherandom @yellow-yarn @kingkagss @roastedchikin @staar-gaazing @strawhatshepard @pspspsomi @nellieleverlin @calypsokalopsia @tiredlittlegirlvt

[sweetwritertanya]

Nothing To Be Jealous About (Yoongi)

Summary: You know something is wrong with Yoongi but you can’t quite understand what or why. When you two finally discuss it, turns out is something you didn’t even realize and it leads to quite an unexpected result.

Warnings: SMUT!! This was not supposed to be a smutty fic, but I kind of had this idea and… well, I just had to write it in this installment of the series. The final two should be just fluffy one-shots! Anyway, for this one be prepared for: swearing, mention of past insecurities of reader, erotic body touching, belly kink, grinding, unprotected sex (don’t do as I write, do as I say!), pulling out, missionary position, aftercare.

Word Count: 4010

You know something is wrong. In fact, you are more than sure of it. You just couldn’t quite figure out what, or why.

Yoongi is extremely quiet. More so than usual as he drives you two back to your place, after an evening with your friends at a birthday party. Eyes set on the road, radio turned on but with no reaction from him, jaw tense and moving from side to side every other time. The last time he even spoke to you was to tell you he was leaving, just announcing it instead of asking if you were ready to go like he usually did. He knew you depended on him to drive you home, so he always made sure you were ready to leave, enduring the social gathering for a bit longer than he would if not for you.

You pressed your lips together and couldn’t help the way your eyebrows pulled together with worry. Maybe he was mad at you for convincing him to come to the birthday party when he wouldn’t know anyone there. Even with the promise of staying with him all the time, not letting him be pushed to the side and ignored, something you refused to do no matter the circumstance, maybe he still felt left out. It was the only reason you could come up with for him to be mad at you.

As your apartment building came into view after a curve down the road, your heart hammered as you weren’t sure how to procced. When he pulled by the sidewalk, without turning the car’s engine off and waiting for you to take your seatbelt off, you knew it was serious.

“Yoongi…” you start to say as the seatbelt rides up your torso.  

“Goodnight, Y/N. See you tomorrow” he dryly says, in a low voice barely audible over the radio. He still refuses to catch a glance your way.

Defeated and hurt, you just open the door and step out. You watch from the sidewalk as the car drives away, the increase of the distance only incrementing the worry in your heart. But you knew Yoongi. He needed his space and time to himself, to his own thoughts. Unfortunately, that meant all you could really do was wait.

Sure enough, the next day you woke up to a text message from him, wishing you a good morning and reminding you he would pick you up after work, before going for a long recording session at the studio. It was like nothing happened, the same old caring Yoongi. You pondered if you should just play along and let it go, but you knew it would bother you forever of you did.

Determined to get to the bottom of the issue, you sent a text back telling him you two would talk then and went on with your day.

You weren’t the only one who was nervous and just a little bit edgy about it all, and it showed. As soon as you saw Yoongi with his dark glasses on and a beanie over his straight light brown fringe, smiling awkwardly and even waving a hand from the driver’s seat, you could tell he was anxious too.

“Hi” you greet as you open the passenger’s door, returning the apprehensive smile.

“Hi, sugar cup. How was your day?”

He doesn’t lean in for a kiss, but that wasn’t unusual. Outside of the house, his affections would only go as far as holding hands or resting his hand on your waist, as well as the occasional cheek pecks. It wouldn’t be anything new for him to keep his loving welcome for when you two arrived home.

“Fine, same as always, really. How about you?” you ask back as the car starts moving, seatbelt on and leaning slightly towards him to contemplate his reactions.

“Woke up late and spent most of the morning working on a new beat. Then I went out with the guys to grab something to eat before coming here to pick you up. In about two hours I need to go back to the studio again.”

“I thought you were trying to sleep early? Get on a healthier sleep schedule?” Your concern shows on your forehead and pursued lips.

“Yeah, well…” he sighs. “I couldn’t really fall asleep last night. I was so restless and I didn’t even take a shower or nothing…”

He scratches his head beneath the grey beanie as he mentions this. You were wondering why he was wearing a beanie in the first place. Although it was getting colder, since autumn was right around the corner, it was still not nearly cold enough to wear such a warm accessory. In fact, you were even wearing a skirt and a stripped black and white t-shirt next to him, a light denim jacket on top and some white sneakers. Turns out he was only hiding his unwashed hair.

“Was it because of what happened yesterday?” you inquire softly.

“Hum? What? What are you talking about?” he avoids the subject, turning his head slightly to his window and, even with the sunglasses on, you were sure he was avoiding eye contact. His voice tone kind of raised an octave and his satoori accent came out, dragging out the vowels sluggishly, clear indications of his uneasiness.

“We should talk about it, Yoongi. What made you mad?” you continue, leaning in closer to him even as he kept squirming in his seat.

“Mad? I was never mad, I don’t know what you are talking about” he persists.

“Did… Did I do something wrong? Is that why you were angry at me?”

That seems to get a different reaction from him. His head snaps towards you, thin lips slightly open as he shakes his head, the right hand that was holding the steering wheel coming to rest on top of yours, above your knee.

“You did nothing wrong, sugar cup. Nothing wrong, I promise” he assured with absolute honesty in his clear voice.

“Talk to me?” You place your other hand on top of the one he had holding yours. “Please?”

His lips press together and he squeezes your hand before removing it since you two had arrived back at your home and he needed it to park the car.

“Let’s talk inside, okay?” he requests.

“Sure. I’ll even make you a homemade iced americano before you leave. You must be sweating in those clothes” you speculate, tugging at his beanie.

He chuckles, an honest one this time, and follows you after locking the car, up the stairs of your building to your floor and inside the small apartment.

“Let me start brewing the coffee so that is nice and fresh to drink. Go ahead and get comfortable.”

You move to the kitchen after leaving your bag and jacket on the coat rack by the front door. Turning on the coffee machine, you fill it with water before putting in the beans and pressing the button to pour into a carafe.

As you watch the dark warm liquid starting to pour, two delicate arms slowly wrap themselves around your soft middle, just beneath yours, Yoongi’s chest pressing to your back as he ducks his head into your shoulder. You smile and lean into the back hug, that comforting sense of belonging almost making you forget anything had happened at all.

“I don’t mind hanging out with your friends. I don’t mind going to parties as long as I’m with you by my side” he starts in a low whisper against the skin of your shoulder, hot breath sending tingles down your spine. “I do mind that a guy touched your belly.”

Frowning, you fight the instinct to turn around and look at him in confusion, knowing he would rather keep his expression hidden against your neck.

“What? A guy touched my belly?” the incredulity was evident in your voice, as you pulled through your memory of the day before, not quite remembering such a thing happening.

“When he accidently knocked into you. Before I could catch you, he steadied you with a hand on your stomach and kept it there while he apologized” he explained, mumbling with still a bit of resentment in the tone.

“Wait, was that it?” His words brought back the memory and you did recall the incident. It was an exchange that couldn’t have lasted longer than thirty seconds. “Is that why you said you were going home soon after? Are you…” The mere thought sounded ridiculous. “Are you jealous, Yoongi?”

He huffed and puffed in disregard of such a theory, and yet his arms grew tighter around you.

“Shush. That’s such a stupid thing to get jealous over” he murmured through his teeth. But he wasn’t quite denying it either. “I remember it took me about ten months, you know?”

You leaned your head to the side in question, to which he started pecking the newly available skin.

“For what?”

“For me to touch your belly. To see you without a shirt on” he elucidated further. “Even in bed, it took so long for me to convince you to take your top off during sex. I was denied so long of this beautiful fluffy stomach and now another man just comes around and grabs it like it’s nothing. You used to scrunch up when I did that.”

Finally understanding where he was coming from, you turn around and take his delicate round face he had been hiding in between your hands. Thick and darker eyebrows drawn together behind his long fringe, small and sharp ebony eyes looking heavy with lowered creased lids, thin dry lips pouting cutely. Even if he was not proud of it, knowing in fact it was a bit ridiculous, and even if he would never admit it, he was jealous.

He was right. It took you a long time to be comfortable enough with him to show all of your bountiful physique to him. You struggled to understand he was actually interested in dating you. You struggled with physical demonstrations of affection. You were scared of revealing too much of your body in front of him. In particular, your plush potbelly. But Yoongi was patient and kind and empathetic. He was a big part of the reason you were so much more confident in yourself now. And he was right. If this had happened last year, before you met Yoongi, you would have panicked and flinch as soon as your stomach was touched.

“Love, you have nothing to be jealous about. The only reason I’m so comfortable nowadays is you. Because of you and all of the patience you had with me. Because I love you and, for some reason, you love me. All of me, just as I am.”

The corners of his lips tug upwards in a small smile as he closes his eyes and bumps his forehead against yours, the thumbs of the hands settled at your wide hips soothing the skin over the fabric of your skirt at the same time yours soothed the skin of his cheeks.

“How about we just pretend this all thing never happened?” he proposed, more for his own sake than anything.

“Hmm, I don’ know… This was actually pretty revealing” you ponder, your hands going around his shoulders and starting to play with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “Should I take this as a lesson and be a little more protective of my stomach around other guys? I wouldn’t really give it a second though before, but you seem to be very defensive of my belly.”

“It’s one of my favorite parts of you” he confesses, bumping his nose into yours playfully, a familiar smirk coming to his lips that you recognized.

“My belly? Really?” Your eyebrows shot straight up. That was news to you.

“Why do you think…” He interrupts his own sentence to land a short peck at your lips, making you giggle. “that I always ask you…” Another smooch. “to let me sleep on your belly?”

“I thought it was just a cute thing you do” you confess, leaning into him and tilting your head for another short kiss.

“You’re the cute one” he decides.

His lips caress yours lovingly in feathering meetings, mouths coming together once, twice, the count quickly lost as the kisses grew longer, deeper, passionate. His hands are all over your back and sides, pulling your closer to him, feeling your softness envelop him. Yours are grasping at his short hairs and stroking his shoulders and neck. The taste of mint with a hint of musk overpowers any other. He smelled of pine and myrrh.

Drunk by everything that made this magnificent man him, you don’t notice how he guides you across the room, your feet falling backwards as he pushes forward unknowingly. Living in a small one-bedroom apartment did have some advantages, namely the fact that the bedroom was never too far away. Before you knew it, the back of your knees hit the mattress of your bed and you fall with your back on the bouncy item.

You have barely any time to process the evolution of the circumstances for soon Yoongi was hoovering above you with his mouth sucking and licking at your neck and shoulders, hands relishing in the expanse of your legs and hips.

“Show me, sweetums.” He whispers hotly in your ear before leaning back just enough for you to see his dark, veiled with list eyes and pinkish cheeks. “Take your clothes off and show me all. Just for me. Only me.”

Gulping, your lift yourself up enough to reach his mouth and kiss him avidly, wondrously, guiding him up with lips still attached until he was sat on the bed. You broke the kiss only to attend to his request, standing up and pulling the zipper of your skirt down and forcing the fabric down your hips until it pooled next to your feet. You had simple white cotton panties underneath, but Yoongi didn’t seem to mind. Grabbing the hem of your t-shirt with both hands, you pulled the stretchy fabric over your head in one go, letting it fall alongside the skirt on the floor. The nude bra you had on and the panties was all the clothing you had left on your curvaceous body. And Yoongi was drinking it all in.

“My beautiful Y/N…” he hums, stretching his arms in an invitation for you to come closer as he sat at the edge of the bed.

As soon as they could, hands grasp your love handles and pull your bulky frame in, Yoongi’s mouth starting a hot and wet trail of kisses on your luscious tummy. His tenderness and devotion magnify the butterflies at the pit of your stomach by a thousand, this scorching wave of affection and love enveloping your heart and hazing your brain. You hold on to Yoongi’s shoulders to keep you standing straight as he keeps the caresses over your belly, with his eyes closed in bliss and greedy hands restless. The feeling of his black t-shirt bothers you, since all you wanted was his naked skin under yours, so you pull at the fabric and he moves back with arms up just enough for you to take off his shirt for him. Your hands could now stroke his soft pale skin directly as he continued the caresses on your middle.

Open-mouthed kisses suddenly turn into raspberry kisses that tickle your skin and make you laugh and push back, only for him to pull you back to the bed, your feet dangling over the edge as he lays on top of you. You sigh with pleasure as his mouth keeps kissing at your tingling skin, feeling the way Yoongi’s finger sink in crevices between the rolls of flesh, only to then knead at the fluffiness.

His mouth bites at the bump of flesh of your lower belly and you gasp not in pain but in surprise, for he had never done that before. He soothes the denting mark he left with his tongue while his hands searched around your back for the hook of the bra. Soon that garment is gotten rid of, his mouth moving slowly but surely up your abdominal area until it reaches the valley between your breasts.

“This… This is another favorite” he says against your feverish skin, just before his hands cup your tits and his mouth envelops one of your sensitive nipples.

“Y-Yoongi!” you exhale with a shudder, a particular strong rush of lust shooting straight to your core.

The tongue is merciless against the puckered nub, swirling around it, flicking it from side to side and up and down, mouth sucking on it and tongue flattening against it. The neglected hard nub is soon joining the torturous pleasure as his hand teases it just as much, thumb brushing it constantly and fingers pulling and tweaking.

The hands you have running down his back are leaving red trails on the skin in reaction to his ministrations, your hips starting to bucker up and brushing against the slim leg he has in between yours. The white cotton was already stained with your obvious need for more.

Desperately, your hands rummage around for his belt and start undoing the clasp, soon followed by the top button of his dark jeans and, finally, the zipper. You felt it as soon as you started to undo the button, the burgeoning stiffness of his cock, constricted by the fabric of the trousers. Pulling them down, the swollen member sprung completely up, tenting his black boxers.

“So eager, my Y/N” he notices, leaving your chest to lift himself up and level his eyes with yours. “So perfect.”

Lips clamping yours, you are taken by surprise when you feel him pull his boxers down just enough to release his throbbing erection and start rubbing it against your protruding tummy. You moan and grunt with building frustration as your womb clenches around nothing, the length you so much craved for grinding over the top of where your uterus would be.

Yoongi is all pants and silent grunts as he rubs his dick alongside the rolls of flesh, hissing every time the swollen tip would get caught in between the bumps, sinking into the heavenly warm skin as if in a tight hug. His hips are snapping against your belly almost of their own will, his face now crimson red hidden in your neck, where he leaves more kissed and bites of love.

“Oh, please, Yoongi!” you breathe out, clawing at his shoulder blades.

“What do you want, sweetums?” he asks, in the softest whispers against your ear, the movement of his hips coming to an almost full stop against your stomach.

“Yoongi!” you call in irritation. He knew damn well what you wanted.

“I wanna hear you say it. Say what you want from me, spell it out” he demands, kissing and sucking at your pulsing point, aggravating your already excruciating problem.

“I want you. I want you to fuck me, want your cock in me, deep and fast, please, Yoongi!” It all comes out so fast it could barely be called a proper sentence, but he understood it well enough to smirk against the skin of your neck.

“Such a good girl” he praises.

Holding himself up with one arm and lowering himself down, Yoongi takes himself in hand and slowly grinds his tip in between your puffy folds, opening them up and revealing the sticky mess he created. You watch as his body shudders without noticing how your own trembled and how your hips twitched at the first contact. Without warning, Yoongi positions himself in line with your entrance and yanks his hips forward, a blissful sting of stretch making you hiss before a guttural moan leaves your open lips.

He stills just for a moment, just enjoying the feeling just as much as you were, before the pounding started.

Just like you asked, he was going deep and fast, leaning down and holding his weight in his forearms as he kept himself on his knees, creating enough leverage to ram into you profoundly. He filled you up perfectly with each thrust, each drag of his staff against your inner walls resulting in a release of relief that was both immensely satisfying and still not enough. He kept sliding back almost all the way out only to plunge back in with force, in and out, in and out, and every time he bottomed out his bushy pelvic bone rubbed against you and triggered that fleshy button in between your pink and glistening with arousal lips.

“Ahh!... Ahh!... I’m… I…”

You couldn’t form a sentence, you were sure you couldn’t even spell out his name or yours at that point, the fever spreading from your womb so severe it was melting your brain. Yoongi rolled forwards in his knees and somehow managed to speed up even more, repeatedly and almost continuously pushing his cock against that particularly sensitive pad of nerves inside your squelching tunnel, sending sparks all over your body and that was it.

You scream out as you cum, hips writhing against him and body convulsing as your hands scraped at his back, the tension in your core secreting to your whole body before crashing down in sharp pleasure that made you dizzy.

Yoongi as slowed down to watch as you reach your orgasm, the way your skin gleamed with a thin layer of sweat, face scrunched up, eyes shut close and delicious lips opened up always incredibly beautiful in his eyes. He wanted to follow you, the stinging kindle with each throb of his staff incredibly painful.

He started to move again, aching hard and leaking, your walls closing around him tight and snug. But still, something was holding him back.

“Fuck… Y/N, I… I need… need!” he struggles to speak, each word coming out in a heavy pant as he kept thrusting with his eyes closed.

Taking his face in hand and kissing his chopped lips, you whisper into his ear.

“Do whatever you need, Yoongi. I’m all yours to use” you allow.

That seems to do it for him. The thrusts grow sloppy and erratic, Yoongi’s jaw tense as he grunts deeply and just as you felt the first twitch of his cock inside, he pulls out, takes his length in hand and jerks himself off feverously while white strings of seed paint your belly. He moans softly as he watched his seed taint your skin.

“There” he exhales, relief evident in his voice. “Mine.”

Even though he was clearly exhausted, Yoongi doesn’t allow himself to lay down next to you just yet. You watch him disappear into the bathroom and coming out with a wet warm towel that he uses to clean up the mess he made. Careful strokes clean your stomach and the sheet beneath you, where drops had already fallen. You smile and hum with heavy eyes as you watch him, the man you love so much caring for you so deeply.

“I can’t stay with you because I’m needed in the studio. If I wasn’t, I would draw a bath for you” he explains in a matter of apologizing.

“It’s okay, love. I can do it myself” you assure. “Oh, let me get that iced coffee ready before you go!”

You try to get up and return to the kitchen, looking around for a t-shirt you could put on just around the house, but Yoongi stops you by pulling you in for a kiss. One of his hands rest on your thigh and another at your back, as you end up sited next to him.

He doesn’t say it, he always had trouble saying it on his own. But you don’t mind saying it first.

“I love you, Yoongi. I’m glad we could talk about all of this.”

He smiles and the hand on your thigh comes up to cup your cheek as he looks at you adoringly.

“I love you too.”

[adarlingwrites]

Dormouse

Summary:

After playing a game with two of The Beach's most dangerous members, the dormouse gets her tail caught by a tiger's paw.

He’ll make a wildcat out of her.

Author’s Notes:

CW: sexist language, blood, parental abuse. This is a heavy chapter, please proceed with caution.

XII

the earth will see our eyes go blank tonight / the earth will rot away go blank tonight / I, I really wish these snakes were your arms

Soft snores float from the back of the truck, and Hinata does her best not turn around and stare.

Yamaneko had fallen asleep, her body curled up next to Last Boss’. The taller militant is resting his chin on top of her head, a protective arm around her waist. Their backs are turned from the other two occupying the front seats.

The taller militant glances at them with near-murderous intent when Tatta hits a bump on the road and wakes Yamaneko up. She rubs the sleep from her eyes, glances at Last Boss, then feels an overwhelming urge to puke her breakfast out.

Pale, the militant hangs her head over the edge of the four by four, and hurls.

“Stop the car,” Last Boss tells Tatta, who hits the brakes and looks at the female militant with concern. Hinata couldn’t help but look as well, watching as the terrifying militant rubbed his girlfriend’s back.

Coughing, Yamaneko turns to the driver. “Could you drive more carefully? Shit…”

“Sorry, I’ll drive more carefully,” Tatta blurts, bowing his head low in apology. He can still feel Last Boss’ death glare burning the back of his head as he restarts the engine.

Somewhat concerned for the nicer militant’s wellbeing, Hinata tosses them a water bottle, which Last Boss catches with one hand. Drinking from the water bottle slowly, Yamaneko gives the other girl a thumbs up.

Slumping against the backseat, HInata is still coming to terms with the fact that these armed and dangerous maniacs are still people who can have attachments.

She then starts to wonder if the militants at the back were anything like who they are now. The Borderlands does seem to bring either the best or the worst out of people, after all. Was Last Boss always an eccentric guy prone to violence, and was Yamaneko always a blunt gal with no regard for social norms?

The street artist takes a sharp inhale in contemplation, and regrets doing so as soon as the damp, earthy scent hits her. Rolling down a window, Hinata pokes her head out of the car, unable to stand the smell of sex and sweat from the militants at the back, and chuckles to herself.

“What’s so funny?” Tatta asks, a hand on the steering wheel and eyes still on the road.

“The car smells like sex and now I’m wondering if I should take her advice.”

“A-ah. Well, it’s your choice,” Tatta replies, his free hand scratching the back of his head.

“What about you, Tatta? Ever thought of sleeping around in the Beach?”

A small laugh escapes his lips. “Not really my thing, sorry. I prefer spending my time fixing cars and goofing around with my friends.”

“Mm, that does sound better. I enjoyed painting that mural with you, by the way. We should-”

A voice who belongs to neither of them cuts their conversation short. “Keep it down.”

Both of them nearly jumped upon hearing Last Boss’ voice. The militant is staring at them with mild hostility, his lover’s head still resting on his shoulder. “You’re going to wake her up again.”

“Right, sorry!” Tatta blurts, then he turns away from him, cold sweat on his forehead. Hinata tries her best to stifle a giggle. There’s something she finds humorous about seeing the enigmatic and frightening Last Boss cuddling with a sleeping girl and shushing people for her sake.

The two in the front remained quiet for the rest of the drive back, their knees bumping together.

The car came to a halt as they arrived. Gently, Last Boss shakes his lover awake, who drowsily mumbles something incoherent as she stretches. The group was unloading their haul when Aguni approached them, a grim expression on his face. Niragi and another militant followed closely behind.

Hinata flinches upon seeing the man with the pierced face, who closes in on her, trapping her against the side of the four by four. Tatta glares at him with wide eyes, feet plastered to the ground and too afraid to move. Niragi whispers something inaudible to the rest of the people present, which makes Hinata shrink further into the warm metal of the car.

To the street artist’s relief, Yamaneko gets in between them and pushes Niragi off nonchalantly as she walks towards the chief. She didn’t hear the quick “thank you” that bubbled from HInata’s throat, who slinked off to the back of the vehicle to hide.

“The hell is your problem?”

“You’re rolling your tongue out like a cartoon wolf again. You look like shit,” Yamaneko replies, smirking and flipping her side fringe as she turns away from Niragi.

“You smell like shit. You smell like a damn brothel,” Niragi yells after her, and she raises a single middle finger in response.

Niragi sneered, his fun for the day ruined, and he stood next to Last Boss.

“Shit, Last Boss, you too,” Niragi remarks as he caught a whiff of Last Boss’ scent, fanning the air with his hand. “Wait, is that dried sweat I’m smelling from your face or- you fucking dog,” Niragi adds, giving him a devious grin.

The tattooed militant rolls his eyes and doesn’t dignify Niragi’s teasing with a reply. He couldn’t hide the smug look on his face, though. Aguni frowns at their juvenile exchange, and pushes past Niragi.

“Enough. Where the hell were you two?” Aguni asks, voice low and full of disappointment. The chief looks at Last Boss and Yamaneko, and one can compare him to a father scolding children who snuck away past their curfew.

“Easy, chief. We just went on a double date with those newbies,” Yamaneko replies, smiling as she motioned to Hinata and Tatta. Her smile turns to a wicked grin upon seeing Niragi’s jealous expression.

That was Tatta and Hinata’s cue to run away as far as they can from the scene.

Before Niragi can confront the two of them, Aguni gives him a glare to remind him of why they’re here, and he begrudgingly stays in place. Then, he turns back to the pair. “We thought the two of you dropped dead somewhere.”

“Dropped dead? I- chief, what happened while we were gone?”

“This isn’t something we should be talking about in the open. You two, come with us,” Aguni responds. Gulping, Yamaneko gives Last Boss a worried gaze, who stands a little closer to the shorter militant.

Dread settling in her gut, Yamaneko found herself in the makeshift morgue again, where several bodies lay on separate gurneys. Aside from the Beach executives, there were several other people in the room, including a few familiar faces. Kuina and Chishiya are present, as well as Sunohara, who acknowledges her with a nod. Ann looks at the militants with a grim frown, and takes off her shades.

“We have limited equipment here in the Beach, but thanks to Sunohara’s help, we were able to determine that the victims’ hearts, brains, and kidneys are damaged. This might be a poisoning case,” Ann announces as she walks towards them.

“Do you think this is the same killer from before?” Aguni asks, stepping towards one of the corpses. He lift’s the dead man’s arm, and sees his number tag. Seventeen; just one rank away from Yamaneko.

“It’s possible. The suspect might’ve caught up with our attempts to investigate and switched methods. Plus, I think we have a motive now.”

Yamaneko turns to the taller woman, brows furrowed.

“Is there any reason why I should be here?” she asks, heart racing.

“That’s where the motive comes in. The player numbers of the people who were killed were in the top thirty. Twenty nine, twenty three, nineteen, seventeen, and twelve. One of the victims was even a member of Aguni’s martial sect. Whoever did this is eliminating higher ranked players. If you hadn't left this afternoon, you might have been a target. From the clues we have so far, someone who’s very desperate to leave the Beach must be behind this.”

“Then we need to put an end to this, fast,” Mira finally speaks up. “It’s only a matter of time before this person targets someone on the executive board.”

“I think I know who this person is…” Niragi scoffs. “It’s definitely Yamaneko’s asshole dad.”

Head whipping towards Niragi, Yamaneko folds her arms in skepticism, about to say something, but ultimately choosing to close her mouth. Hatter uses the silence as an opportunity to impart his observations.

“Come to think of it… whenever he turns in his cards from a game, he’s often the sole survivor.”

“Are you saying that he killed the other players to receive sole credit for the card?” Kuina speaks up from her corner. Beside her, Chishiya gives the executives a knowing smirk. “It’s a possibility.”

Aguni turns to the daughter of the suspect, who’s sweating bullets. “You said it yourself that you think that the man is capable of being violent with anyone. What do you think?” he asks.

“Hm. Your father is CEO of a company that provided services to this hotel before we all ended up here, am I correct?” Ann asks, circling Yamaneko now. “What kind of goods did they manufacture?” she adds.

“Yamacorp is an industrial manufacturer with a focus on chemical manufacturing.” Yamaneko replies.

“Was your father knowledgeable about the goods his company creates, or does he only manage the business side of things?” Ann asks, the conversation effectively turning into an impromptu interrogation.

“Father oversees the factory from time to time since he has a background in chemistry.”

Ann frowns. “Then there’s a high possibility that he is involved. One of the household poisons that can cause such damage is antifreeze.”

Lips trembling and thoughts racing her head a mile a minute, Yamaneko grimaces. “Are there any other suspects?”

“The only people with access to potentially hazardous chemicals in the Beach are the supply runners, medics, or the militants.”

Niragi rolls his eyes and points his rifle at his fellow executive member. “Are you accusing us of killing one of our own, Ann?”

“No. I’m just saying that it’s a possibility. We need to test the victims’ urine for calcium oxalate crystals, gather fingerprints, gather more witness accounts-”

Niragi interrupts with sarcastic clapping. “That plan’s just perfect, but you’re not in a damn forensic lab anymore, Ann.”

“Let’s just kill him,” Last Boss pipes up. At his suggestion, Yamaneko turns to glare at him.

In the corner, Chishiya chuckles and folds his arms. “Idiots,” he mutters under his breath, earning him a sour look from Niragi. Kuina observes the two of them, then turns her attention to the Hatter, who takes a few steps across the room.

“Niragi has a point. Ann’s methods would take too much time. The Beach is well equipped, but we don’t have everything,” the number one quips.

“We need to extract information any way we can,” Aguni adds.

“Then let’s beat it out of him,” Last Boss suggests.

Yamaneko begins to stammer, unable to come up with words in response to her fellow militants’ suggestions. “I- he-”

“What’s the matter, Yamaneko? Don’t tell me you feel sorry for that piece of shit. You’re sounding like that mousy little girl we picked up again,” Niragi asks, looking cross.

“I just think that beating someone into submission would only make them admit something they didn’t do,” the shorter militant says.

“She’s right,” Ann adds, placing a hand on her hip. “We need to lure the truth out of him.”

“How troublesome,” Last Boss mutters. “Beating him up is more straightforward.”

This time, Yamaneko frowns. “That’s what he did to me, and it always ended with me confessing to things I didn’t do just for the pain to stop.” His lover’s admission made the tattooed militant pause for a moment, throat dry, and Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed his own spit.

“Then do it to get back at him. Don’t you want to?”

At that point, Yamaneko’s hands are sweating, her voice inaudible to anyone but her lover. “I want to, but…”

“We’re not going to get anywhere with this,” Chishiya speaks up, leaving his corner and stepping under the harsh lights of the room. “The suspect isn’t even in this room for interrogation, and we’re not even sure if anyone is competent enough to manipulate the truth out of him. I know I can’t be bothered with it.”

“Then the next best thing would be for a Heart specialist to manipulate him into admitting his involvement, yes?” Mira suggests, grinning as she paces to the shortest militant in the room. Yamaneko’s throat is a dry river on a hot day, and her heart hammers against her ribcage.

“I’d do it myself, but being approached by an executive member would betray our intentions to him. We need someone who can rouse strong emotions out of him… provoke him and make him irrational. Make him blurt out a confession.”

Mira gasps excitedly, making eye contact with Yamaneko. “Ah! Why don’t you try it, Miss Yamane? You know him better than anyone else in the Beach.”

“It’s Yamaneko. I’m not a heart player.”

“You give yourself too little credit,” Mira croons.

“This has gone on for too long. We’ll bring in Mr. Yamane for interrogation later.” Ann crosses her arms. “Hatter, should we adjourn?”

Unsettling feelings pool in Yamaneko’s gut, staring blankly ahead as the meeting ends. She brings her hands to her face, groaning as a wave of tension wrapped itself around her head, and feeling vaguely nauseous. Aguni approaches his underling, his frown deeper than usual, betraying the sliver of concern he feels for the girl.

“How do you plan to deal with this?”

Yamaneko shakes her head, and hangs it low. “I honestly don’t know. My relationship with father is strained, but I still can’t wrap my head around the possibility of him being a serial killer of some sort.”

“You’ve experienced his cruelty first hand, am I right? Trust your own experiences with him.”

The chief’s words make her look him in the eye, a wordless understanding forming between the two.

“I’ll seek you out when I decide what to do, chief.”

Aguni nods and leaves without another word. Lover close by, the younger militant retreats to the rooftop, where no one can bother the two of them. In silence, Takatora observes her. Across the horizon, the sun is slowly setting, and the sky is painted with hues of pinks and oranges.

“I’m going to go on a game with my father,” Yamaneko finally says, eyes fixed on the setting sun.

“I’ll come with you,” her lover replies, bumping shoulders with her. The shorter militant sighs, scratching her head. “You can’t, Tora.”

“He’ll hurt you.”

His sight doesn’t leave her as she stands up to pace around. “Father’s afraid of you, I can tell. He wouldn’t dare to interact with me if you’re around. I have to do this alone.”

“Just settle for the other solution. My method.”

“I want to hear it from his mouth. I want to see him shoot his own damn foot. I need that satisfaction, Takatora.” She sits back down, and holds his hand, fingers entwined with his spindly ones. “If my method fails, let’s use yours.”

Cold fingers touching her face, Takatora turns her head and kisses her. It was short, and uncharacteristically tender. “You’re worried,” Yamaneko breathes, the warmth of the kiss still lingering on her lips. “I’m your wildcat, tiger. A frumpy old man doesn’t stand a chance against me.”

This time, Takatora kisses her with more hunger, his hand leaving hers to cradle her neck. “I’ll come to your game venue as soon as I’m finished with mine.”

His lover breaks the kiss to whisper something in his ear, chin resting on his shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The heavens are a deep blue now, the sun gone.

“I’ll go tell the chief about the plan so he can inform the other executives,” Yamaneko mumbles, watching the clouds roll by.

Another night of games are about to begin.

As Yamaneko enters the elevator to descend to the lobby, a tan hand holds the doors open. HInata steps in, keeping a safe distance between herself and the woman armed with tactical daggers.

“Hey.” Hinata tosses something to her, and the militant catches it. “You left those in the back earlier.” Yamaneko’s body went rigid as she looked at the item; her packet of birth control.

She missed several days.

“I- thanks.”

Yamaneko couldn’t pay any attention to what the other girl is saying as paranoia gets the best of her.

“Surely, I’ve been feeling tired for the past few days because of the chief knocking me on my ass during training and not because Tora knocked me up, right? I’m nauseous during the car ride because Tatta wasn’t driving carefully, right? I’ve been feeling emotional because of the stress from the Beach serial killer case and the big possibility of father being that nutcase, right?”

“Right?”

“Hey, um, are you there?”

Hinata’s voice snaps her out of her thoughts, and she clears her throat. “What did you say again?”

“I said thanks for getting Niragi off my back.” Hinata scratches her head. “Look, um, I know you’re one of them, but you’re alright. Say, what if we work out a deal of some sort?”

“What kind of deal, newbie?”

“You keep Niragi off my ass, I’ll get you whatever the hell you want. Promise. I’ll be your personal procurement gal.”

Yamaneko chuckles. “Hm. Why the hell not? Hell, come with me in a game tonight. I’m sure I can ask the chief a favor to group you with me. I’ll show you the ropes.” In return, Hinata gives her a genuine smile. “Sure.”

As they walked together to the lobby, Hinata couldn’t help but stare at Yamaneko. She’s short, probably the shortest member of the militia, and her hair’s a mess of uneven cuts at the back. The red highlights on her bangs and fringe are somewhat faded, and her dark makeup looks pristine at the moment, unlike when she found her getting bent over a desk by her boyfriend a few hours earlier.

“If you don’t mind talking about it, how did you end up in the militia?”

“I encountered Last Boss and Niragi in a game and they took an interest in me. I dropped my wallet, they found my address, and they whisked me away.” Yamaneko pauses, looking at HInata with slight concern. “Are you sure you’re ready to hear what I’m about to say about Niragi, though?”

‘You’ve pretty much told me earlier that he’s a sleazeball now. I can take it.”

“Well, I was one of the girls he screwed upon arrival. I just… learned to tolerate it to survive. He stopped touching me after I stopped reacting to him. Or maybe because Last Boss told him that he wanted me to himself. I’m not sure anymore.”

“A-are you really suggesting I just give in and just let him have his way with me?!”

“What the- Of course not. But it’s an option if you want your life on the Beach to get easier. Or maybe you can ask that friend of yours to pretend to be your boyfriend, but I doubt he’s the type of guy Niragi will respect.”

Face contorted in anger and indignation, Hinata stammers. “I don’t know what’s more fucked, that he won’t leave a woman alone unless she’s the girlfriend of someone more dangerous than him, or that you don’t give a shit that Niragi’s-”

When Yamaneko grabs her by the shoulders and slams her against the wall, the other girl is reminded that she’s still an armed and dangerous member of the militia.

“Let’s get a few things straight here: First, I don’t fucking appreciate you putting words in my mouth. Second, I’m just telling you how I survived Niragi. The fact that I accepted your deal is me extending my help. So, don’t push your luck with me, newbie. I can still change my mind about this and throw you to the wolves.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

With that, Yamaneko lets go.

“C’mon, we have a game to play.”

As the slips of paper were being handed out, Last Boss and Yamaneko looked for each other’s eyes across the sea of people, and they gave each other one last look of longing as they went on with their respective groups for the night.

Yamaneko and Hinata receive their assignment, and the former’s face lights up when she sees Sunohara approaching. Silently, she thanks Aguni for heeding her favor of letting her choose her teammates tonight. The chief knows she has a plan. Not long after, Mr. Yamane approaches, glances at his daughter, and turns away, entering the back of the car.

Intentionally, Yamaneko sits in the back as well, while Sunohara rides shotgun, the wind tousling her chestnut bob, with Hinata on the wheel. The car ride is tense and quiet, wind howling as the car speeds through the empty streets of Tokyo.

Nervous, with beads of sweat on her forehead, Yamaneko felt nauseous again, rolling down the window to hurl.

“You alright?” the doctor asks, looking at her through the rear view mirror. Yamaneko nods and leans back on the car seat, keeping her head tilted upwards. From the corner of his eye, Mr. Yamane watches his estranged daughter, expression inscrutable.

The car screeches to a halt as they arrive at their destination: Tokyo Zoo.

Yamaneko regards the place, solemn expression on her face.

Her childhood days weren't always filled with hurtful words and beatings. On some days, on the off chance that Mr. Yamane took a day off, he’d bring her with her mother and sister here. But that all halted when he took his father’s place as CEO. Still, Yamaneko thinks the glimpses of familial happiness doesn’t outweigh the horrible things he did to little Minami, Mai, and his deceased wife.

“Of course this just had to be the fucking venue,” she thinks, slamming the car door shut.

One by one, the Beach members picked up the smartphones from the table, facial recognition registering them as participants, and followed the arrows to the game arena.

The synthetic voice most people dreaded breaks the silence. “Registration closed. There are currently four players. Difficulty: Six of Hearts.”

“Another Heart? Just my luck,” Sunohara sighs, rubbing her arms with her palms. Yamaneko inhales deeply, eyeing the new girl, then her father. “Ever played a Heart before, Hinata?” the militant asks her.

“No.”

“Then you’re in for a lesson.”

The doctor takes out a cigarette from her coat and lights it up, visibly anxious. “Heart games play with your heart and mess with your head. They’re the nastiest games out there.”

Judging the Beach veterans’ reactions, Hinata knew she was in deep shit. Mr. Yamane looks visibly distressed too, sweat beading on his balding head and soaking his dress shirt.

On a circular table are four snake tanks, the glass covered by an opaque fabric so the inside isn’t visible to the viewer, with a hole large enough for a hand to fit in on top. In the middle of the table is a syringe, a vial of unknown substance, and a scalpel.

“Game: Antidote. Rules: Two out of four boxes contain a live Gloydius blomhoffii, better known as the mamushi, one of the most venomous snakes in Japan. Each player must simultaneously stick a hand in a box and keep it in for five seconds. Players who haven’t been bitten by the snake must decide who deserves the antidote. Time limit: None.”

A hiss coming from the direction of the boxes is enough to confirm that they do indeed contain live snakes. The echo of the arena makes it hard to determine from which boxes it came from.

“Fuck. Fuck this,” Hinata mutters, legs shaking.

“Don’t tell me you’re running away,” Yamaneko quips. “You have a better chance of surviving if you stick your hand in as opposed to getting struck down by a laser.”

“Let’s get this over with,” Mr. Yamane interrupts, choosing a box of his own. “Stop stalling and get your hands in.”

Rolling her eyes, Yamaneko drags Hinata to the box beside her, and she takes her spot as well. Sunohara gets ready as hell, psyching herself up as she rolled up her coat’s sleeves.

“On three,” the doctor says. “One, two, three!”

All participants stick their respective hands in. Yamaneko chose her left arm, given how it’s in poor shape in comparison to her right one, and she tries to make her movement as slow as possible. Maybe the snake wouldn’t bite her if she doesn’t disturb it.

Unfortunately for her, Mr. Yamane exclaims as he feels fangs pierce his skin, and the snake in Yamaneko’s box gets startled as well, its teeth sinking into the flesh of her forefinger.

Heart hammering in her chest, Yamaneko pulls her hand out from the box and curses as she sees a droplet of blood on her finger. “Shit! Why the hell did you have to scream like that?!”

The ex-CEO hisses. “Shut up! You never learn your lesson, do you? Still talking to your father like that, have some respect!”

At the revelation that the two are related, Hinata’s eyes widened. “He’s your father?”

“Yes. We’re not exactly on good terms, as you can see,” Yamaneko sighs, trying to squeeze the venom from her finger. Sunohara strides to the table, retrieving the medical supplies. Then, the doctor touches the militia woman’s hand to stop her. “Don’t. Squeezing it would only make it spread. It needs to be excised, and then we need to inject you with anti-venom.”

A coarse hand grabs the doctor’s arm, causing her to gasp in pain. Mr. Yamane is giving the tall woman a furious glare. “Wait a damn minute! You sound like you’ve already decided to give her the antidote. What about me?! Huh? You’re a doctor of some sort, right? Who gives you the right to decide-”

HInata separates him from the doctor, her stance defensive. “Are you seriously going to let your own kid die so you can live? What kind of father are you?!” the tan-skinned girl exclaims in disbelief.

“Probably the type who kills people to advance his Beach tag,” Yamaneko quips, putting her own game into motion.

“Says the woman who brandishes daggers and gives her pussy away to murderers,” Mr. Yamane barked back. “You’ll be wasting the antidote if you give it to someone like her. I have a decent daughter and an infant son to come back to in the real world! Give the antidote to me!”

“Oh my God, you know you’re not helping your case at all by calling her those awful things, right?” Hinata quips, both hands on her hips.

A bitter laugh bubbles from Yamaneko’s throat, underscored with light pain as her hand starts to swell from the snake venom. “But the daughter in front of you doesn’t deserve to live? Tell me father, who else didn’t deserve to live?” Voice cracking, Yamaneko is screaming at that point. “We know it’s you. You killed those people in the Beach. You’re so desperate to go back to your cushy life as CEO, huh?!”

“You know what? Fine, it was me! You know I’d do anything to survive, Minami. That’s what I taught you as well!”

As the venom spreads through their system, the estranged father daughter pair escalates their quarrel, with the daughter striding towards the father to grab him by the collar.

“And yet you judged me for doing what I can to survive when you kicked me out. You judged me for getting caught giving men your age handjobs and blowjobs under the table. You judged me for stealing when I had nothing else.” Head spinning and tears pooling in the corner of her eyes, Yamaneko’s voice completely breaks as she utters a cry.

“You turned Mai against me. You poisoned your children against each other. You don’t deserve to be called a father.”

A slim, gentle hand pulls her away from the old man. Sunohara is giving her a sympathetic look. “We don’t have much time. Hinata and I decided you should get the antidote. You won’t be out of the woods yet after we administer the antivenom, too, so let’s move.”

The ex-heiress lets go of the Yamacorp CEO, cathartic, laughing and crying at the same time.

When she looked down as she tried to walk, however, the smile disappeared from her face. Blood stains her thighs, and the crotch of her bikini feels warm and wet. “This is embarrassing,” she croaks, and Sunohara merely chuckles at her predicament as she sits her down. Hinata stays right beside her new friend, if she can call Yamaneko that, offering her a shoulder to lean on.

Antivenom fills the syringe as Sunohara extracted it from the bottle. “Let’s administer the antidote, and I’ll get you some pads for your period when we get back on the Beach, huh? Maybe we can get help for your fa-”

Whatever Sunohara was about to say was replaced by a scream as she watched Mr. Yamane charged towards them with a dagger.

Deranged, delirious, Mr. Yamane stabbed his own daughter with her own weapon, the blade sinking in her gut. Squelching sounds and Yamaneko’s scream of agony echoed in the open space, accompanied by Hinata and Sunohara’s own shrieks of terror. Withdrawing the knife, Mr. Yamane threw it aside, and reached for the antidote.

Before the needle can plunge into his skin, a laser fires from the sky, cutting his life short in an instant.

Wide and wet with tears, Yamaneko’s eyes didn’t leave her father’s as she watched his final moments. Beside her, Hinata is shaking and covered with the militant's blood, while Sunohara is breathing heavily, still in shock.

The gravity of the situation sinks in when Sunohara hears Yamaneko whimper beside her.

“Help me.”

[yanderes-stuff]

...Michael Andersen? There's barely anything for the dude, so you can do nsfw or sfw if you want?

Yeah sure bro let's get the yandere man with jean curtains to clap cheeks because your the only one that doesn't treat him like a psycho 

P.S I saved this for Michaels birthday and it's 3:22 am right now so I'll revise this later but I wanted to post right now

Tw: dubcon (manipulation) and cussing and yandere stuff and bad grammar 

Word count: 1,725

The door to your room gently shut. as you wandered to your bed waiting for Michael to come out of the bathroom after a long day relaxing together previously he was texting you about how lately he was feeling miserable all because only a few people don't treat him like an individual and those people would usually not bother to spend time with him

So out of pity, you decided to agree to invite him over to cheer him up after all that's what friends are for. Michael seemed to be appreciative of you since you would always comfort his misery at any chance you got especially the times he would come over uninvited crying over the loneliness begging you not to leave but it's worth it just to see him at peace for once

But alas he was faking his despair for your comfort he didn't know any other way that would get your instant attention so he decided that he was going to go to desperate measures you were the only one that was there for him and he needed you for himself

Which sometimes led to him sneaking into your room uninvited when he was feeling especially unstable at nightfall though by then you were in a deep sleep however he discreetly snaps photos of you sleeping to ease his nerves later which led to him having a whole photobook of candid photos taken without your knowledge but he couldn't help it! You're the only one that makes him feel soothed from his descending sanity 

But there were times when you were together where you would mention other people to him then he'd start fussing about the flaws of the person and telling you why he doesn't like them nevertheless he was clever about exaggerating his views on people but that's a bit of an understatement 

This leads to him enacting his plan right this moment without your knowledge he's been waiting quite a while to perfect this plan without any chance of failure he'll just have to protect you from those people as you did with him

With a gentle creak of the door, you hear Michael out the bathroom "Hey [Name.] Thanks for inviting me over." He muttered gently

"You're welcome I like it when you're here." You admitted your words made his heart warm-up although he didn't show that

"So uh [Name.] I was wondering if I can ask you something." He mumbled a light pink dusting contemplating over his next selection of words

"Hit me with it." You said casually looking up to meet his eyes that were staring right back at you with a hint of uneasiness to them

He swallowed thickly and his eyes scanned the room for a moment "Could we do the thing again...I just like being seen as an equal and being taken into consideration while I please you." 

You were quiet for a second a little startled but not disgusted you had an idea of what the aforementioned "thing" was quite some time ago since you had sex with him but it began when he implored you to have sex with him to unwind from his depressed state which you hesitantly agreed just to comfort him but you quickly grew to have the ritual relatively often until you grew apart for some time busy with other friends 

You held a small smile "Oh sure I guess...it's kinda been a while since we did it hasn't it." You agreed with an awkward laugh you patted the side of the bed signaling him to come to sit down 

Once he sat down he took you in his lap and cupped his hand to your cheek admiring your face once done gazing his lips crashed with yours in a fierce kiss while he massaged your right breast over your t-shirt after a few minutes of this you took off your shirt and threw it on the ground then he switched sides and gave the other the same treatment his lips danced around your collarbone 

He started playfully rubbing his fingers against your womanhood over your shorts then he slipped his hand in and started darting his fingers in and out now you could barely think straight with the sensations he was giving you and when you took a glance at his boxers you could see his cock bulging from within the fabric 

You awkwardly slipped off your shorts to give him easier access to your lower region you were dripping wet from the feeling of euphoria he gave hitting your sweet spot with his rough digits once he was satisfied with his effort he disrobed himself and crawled over your figure lining up with your soaked genitalia 

Then he fitted his girth in you with one quick motion and sits still for a second letting you adjust once you settled he started to rock his hips gently his breathing getting slightly erratic from the pleasure coursing through him than his movements quicken with speed his hips bucking back and forth against the bedrest then he put his hands to your neck not enough to choke you but enough to feel his hands there you can feel him chasing his climax with the thrill while you reached yours for a second time but before he could cum inside you he pulled out and came on your   Inner thighs and stomach with the hot sticky liquid

He crawled beside you and snaked his arms around the top of your body in a warm and cozy embrace you grabbed a nearby towel from the side table and patted yourself off before you snuggled him back 

"Let's just go to sleep and get some rest for tomorrow, deal?" He whispered in the tip of your ear

"Deal, good night Michael I love you." You mumbled your words made Michael extremely delighted and words couldn't describe how much he hoped you were being honest

"I love you too [Name.]" He returned the sentiment and with that watched you slowly go into a deep slumber 

When he was finally certain you were asleep he quietly tiptoed outside whilst grabbing a large kitchen knife on his way and when he strolled to your vehicle in your driveway and in one swift motion jabbed the knife into the rubber tire glancing around to make sure nobody saw quietly chuckling to himself 

As he was ensured there were no witnesses he walked away from the harsh hiss of the tire slash and came back inside and started once again to hold you close to him later in the morning when you both woke up and you cooked breakfast fluffy pancakes for Michael as well as yourself and told Michael you'll be right back to get mail

When you wandered outside to collect your mail from your mailbox when you discovered that your car had a flat tire noting this in your mind you went back inside your house and notified Michael while he was still at the kitchen table eating the food you made for him

"Hey Michael can you do me a favor." You implored him with a straight face standing next to the doorway

"Yeah, sure what" Michael answered back already knowing what you're going to ask him trying to hold back his excitement cupping his own chin with his elbow propped up on the table 

"Could you take me to the auto shop? I need a new tire. I think I might've cut it on a rock or something." You pleaded and continued "I'll pay you back somehow." A small frown on your face you didn't want to send Michael to get it by himself because you knew he didn't like being left alone 

"Yeah sure I'll take you but you don't need to pay me back." He told you casually he already knew how you would pay him back…

When you two got into Michael's car there was an uncomfortable silence you two tried to make small talk in the meantime but there was something off about Michael his eyes seemed to be more dilated lost in thought while still navigating through the strangely empty roads 

After a while more uncomfortable small talk there's another thing you noticed was a bottle of pills presumably medication and in addition to that some heavy-duty rope maybe it was for camping was a thought that cropped in your head but that thought was interrupted from the sight of the repair shop in the distance

Until…Michael passed it "Uh Michael you passed the shop buddy." You said trying to snap him out of his supposed trance but he just hesitated to answer until finally

"I know." He confessed giving you a side-eye while driving you can now make out the fact that his breathing is slightly more unstable 

"Sorry, but I can't let you go...love" he emphasized the last word in his sentence while you heard the click of Michael locking the car door before you could open the door to escape

Michael turned on an unfamiliar path that was secluded in a forest then he turned to you 

"Look, this is for the best. You don't understand now but your will." He growled he scrambled to you pinning your body between his legs as his figure loomed over you

Then he took your throat in his hands and started to crush it harshly still with that labored breathing and dilated eyes focused on you, but you tried to struggle but to no avail, your world was fading, and the last thing you saw before passing out was Michael leaning in to gently kiss you

You awoke chained to a bed presumably Michaels you squirmed trying to get up but you quickly realized that Michaels's arms were latched over yours in a tight grip and you could feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back 

"I love you so much, you have no idea what lengths I'd go to prove that or more so what lengths I'm going to prove that." 

[oskea93]

My Heart Has a History (1)

Sleeping was starting to become impossible.

I tossed and turn all night, having to get up 20 times or more to use the bathroom. It was starting to get so bad that Matthew opted to start sleeping in the guest room just to get some sleep himself. The only bad thing about it was that I would be up all night and by 5:30 in the morning, I would finally pass out for a few hours and be late for whatever it was I had to do that day. 

Case in point, dropping my son off to his father.

I had been up all night, tossing and turning, I don’t even remember falling asleep. The only reason I finally woke up was because my cell phone started to vibrate against the table. I lazily reached my arm over to the table and unhooked it from the charger.

"Lo?" I answered.

I had no idea who was calling since I didn't bother to look at the screen. "It's about time you answered." Jax's voice sounded through the speaker. "I've been texting you for the past hour." I slowly began to wake up and looked over to the alarm to see that it was almost ten in the morning. I started to slightly panic since I had to be at the bakery in 45 minutes. "Why didn't anyone wake me up?" I slightly yelled. I could hear Jax laugh on the other end as I tried my best to get out of bed. Getting out of bed while pregnant hadn’t gotten any easier as my second pregnancy moved further along. When I was pregnant with Wyatt, Jax had to help me up all the time. The first couple months were fine but it got harder and harder each month.

"Like I said, I tried texting you but your phone must've been on silent or something." I ran my fingers through my hair as I finally reached the side of the bed. "I was playing a game last night since I couldn't sleep and I put it on silent so I wouldn't wake up Matthew. I guess I just forgot to put the ringer back on." I explained myself. Jax stayed silent as I struggled to get off the bed. "I have to stop by the bank real quick and then I’ll be able to drop him off. You can meet me at the bank if you want?" I suggested. Usually, I would drop Wyatt off at the garage or Jax's house. It just depended on how early in the morning it was going to be. "Yeah, that'll work." I let out a sigh of relief once he agreed. "Gemma's having dinner tonight; why don't you stop by when you pick up Wyatt?" I stayed silent for a moment before answering him, "I'll have to see." Dinner at Gemma's either went two ways: okay or terrible. Every dinner that I’ve attended at the Morrow house was filled with screaming and accusations. It was either between Clay and Jax or Gemma and Jax. That family had no idea how to have a decent dinner. The last time I had dinner with everyone was the night Jax and I decided to call it quits. We didn't plan on telling anyone of our plans but our body language said it all. We were cold towards one another and the most telling part was that we decided not to sit next to each other. Gemma was the first to point this out and basically turned the whole evening into a hell storm. I had to end up leaving early because I couldn't take it. "Okay, well I guess I’ll see you when you get here." And with that, he hung up.

I couldn't help but feel a bit sad about telling him that I was more than likely not going to attend Gemma's dinner. Jax and I weren't together anymore; what would be the use of going? I was all for Wyatt staying and having dinner with them but I feel like I would just be an unwanted guest. Plus, Gemma wasn't my biggest fan. "Mommy?" Wyatt's little voice sounded as he walked into the room. He was already dressed and ready to go. "Mommy, when are we going to daddy's?" I watched as he walked into the room and jumped on the bed. He looked just like his father. Blonde hair, green eyes, and that smile was contagious. He was the spitting image of Jackson Teller. "Real soon, baby." I gave him a smile as I wrapped my arms around him. "Did you get dressed all by yourself?" I looked down at him as he nodded his head. "I wanted to look like daddy." I just nodded my head as I looked at his attire. A plain white shirt, jeans, and his little work boots. I wouldn't personally put him in this type of outfit but I give him points for dressing himself for the day. Plus, he was going to be in a garage where he was bound to get messy. "How about you go and watch TV while I get ready and then we'll go see daddy? Does that sound like a plan?" He just nodded his little head, pressing a kiss to my cheek before jumping off the bed. I waited until I heard the TV turn on before I waddled towards the bathroom. I had told Jax that I would be there as soon as I could but I had to get ready for the day and there was no way I was going into the bakery without looking my best. If I could get Wyatt to him in under an hour, then that would be an accomplishment… I looked at the clock as I frantically moved around the kitchen. It was already after 11 and I had told Jax that I was on my way 20 minutes ago. "Mommy, I couldn't find them in the living room." Wyatt ran up to where I was. "I even looked in Nettie's house." I continued to claw my way through different boxes that I knew my keys wouldn't be in but I was desperate to find them. The last time I saw them was last night when I contemplated if I wanted to make a McDonald's run since I was practically starving. I must have stared at the damn things for almost an hour before I decided to go back to bed. The only thing was that I couldn’t remember where I put them after I decided not to go. I decided to just forgo the search and take Matthew’s car instead. Luckily, a friend of his picked him up this morning, leaving the BMW sitting in the driveway. I watched as Wyatt gathered up his little backpack, making sure to put his jean jacket on first since it was a bit cool out. We were out the door and on the road within 5 minutes. I knew that Jax was probably pissed since I had told him that I was on my way almost 30 minutes ago. I'm surprised he didn't send one of the guys to come look for me. It wouldn't be the first time.

The often 25-minute drive turned into a 15 minute one as I pulled into the parking lot to find Jax's truck sitting near the entrance. I had told him numerous times that I didn't like Wyatt riding on the back of his motorcycle and I’m glad he finally decided to listen. When I was with Jax, I didn't even like riding on the back of that thing. It scared me to no end and seeing as Wyatt’s still young, I didn't feel comfortable with him riding either. 

"Daddy!" Wyatt cheered from the backseat. As soon as I put the car in park, he was out and bolting towards the truck. I watched as Jax removed his sunglasses before exiting the truck and wrapping Wyatt in his arms. "Hey bud." Jax whispered in his hair as he held onto him. Instead of just waiting around for him to start yelling at me for being late, I decided to speak first. "So, I packed his lunch since Gemma lets him eat anything he wants and I made sure to put an extra outfit in there as well in case he gets dirty or something. I also don't want you smoking near him or using words that aren't friendly to anyone's ears." I rambled. "It might be late before I can come get him but please have him in his pajamas when I come and pick him up." Jax just rolled his eyes as I gave him the same instructions that I’ve told him for the past year. I was only being the good mom that everyone praised me for being. To me, being a good mother was something that I prided myself for. I wanted to be able to give my son and future daughter the love and care that my mother gave me. I didn't come from a broken family. My parents had been together since high school and I hardly ever heard them argue. If they did in fact argue, they must have been awfully quiet about it. I was supposed to follow in their footsteps but that changed when I met Jax. My parents tried to remain calm and optimistic about mine and Jax's relationship but I could see the disappointment in their eyes. I was supposed to marry someone like Matthew and remain married to that man for the rest of my life. I guess you could say they were overjoyed and embarrassed at the same time when I decided to leave Jax. It was what they had been hoping for but that left me a single mother and that wasn't supposed to happen either. "You act like I’ve never taken care of a kid before, Pres." Jax chuckled as he readjusted Wyatt in his arms. "I know the whole routine babe." My heart fluttered a tad at the mention of that pet name.    "Gemma's gonna take him home with her when she leaves for the day. I have a few things to take care of before the dinner tonight but I should be back before you get there." I shifted slightly at the mention of Gemma's dinner. I knew he wanted an answer but I didn't want to tell him no in front of Wyatt. "Have you decided if you're coming or not?" 

I narrowed my eyes at him. "I told you that I would have to see." He just looked at me with those green eyes as a smirk played on his face. "Well you can tell that to Gemma today when she stops by to get the deserts." My face instantly fell. Gemma never came to my shop unless she wanted to be nosey. "Excuse me?" I tried to keep a small smile on my face in front of Wyatt. "I didn't get an order from Gemma for today?" Jax just shrugged his shoulders. "Mommy makes good desert." Wyatt decided to announce. Jax and I both laughed at his statement. "Thank you baby." I said as I gave him a kiss on the cheek. I was extremely close to Jax at that point since he was holding Wyatt. I think at one point, my stomach accidentally hit against his side. I quickly backed up as Jax just stared at me and then to the ground. "Well-" I began. "I think it's time I get to work." I brushed the hair out of my face. "Seems that I will have some needy customers today after all." "Wyatt-" Jax spoke as he set our son back on the ground. "Give mommy a kiss goodbye." I looked up at Jax briefly but my attention quickly snapped back to the toddler that brushed up against my legs. "Bye, mommy." I bent down the best I could and wrapped my arms around his little body. "Bye, baby. You be good for daddy and grandma, okay?" He just nodded his head and ran back to Jax, grabbing his extended hand. "I'll call you later." Jax spoke. I just nodded my head, giving him a small smile. "Sounds good." I watched as two of three most important men in my life walked back to the awaiting truck. I waited until they left before I jammed myself back into my vehicle. The whole way to the bakery was filled with questions. I was questioning myself a lot lately. I don't know whether it was baby brain or the hormones that were all out of control, but I was starting to develop feelings for Jax again. It wasn't anything major but just seeing him made my heart skip a beat. I felt like a teenager that had a crush on the upperclassman but knew she had no chance with him. I don't even know why I was having these feelings. I was happily married to Matthew. I think a part of me would always love Jax but we could never be a couple again. It didn't work out the first time, there wouldn't be any chance at a second go-around. Jax and I lived very different lives, even when we were married. I was never into the whole SAMCRO party scene. If the club had a party, I would either stay in the back room or at Jax's house. I didn't feel comfortable being around that kind of environment. Don't even get me started on the women that hung around there. I'm not gonna say that I was little miss perfect but I would never walk around in the clothing or lack-thereof like those girls. I don't know whether the girls had bad childhoods or just wanted the attention of a man, but it was an awful sight to see. My first SAMCRO party consisted of watching a group of girls take turns with a member. I can't even remember the guy's name but it was not a pleasant sight. Jax and his friends didn't even bat an eye to the situation and here I was standing there like I was in the middle of a horror movie. That was the first and last party I ever attended and I was okay with that. That was the way Jax was brought up and I wasn't going to forbid him from attending those parties. To Jax, those parties represented who he was. He was a member of the Sons of Anarchy and he deserved to let loose and drink a little beer after a stressful week. The one thing I did not approve of was the fact that Jax and his club were associated with a porn business and its stars. Some of the girls were as normal as you and I but there were a certain few that made me feel embarrassed to be a woman. Ima Tite was one of those girls. She was the cause of Jax and I's problems starting out. I would go to the clubhouse and find her all over Jax and not even caring that I had just walked into the room. Ima was the type of girl that needed attention and it was Jax's attention that she craved. He was the Vice President of a powerful club and she hated the fact that I was his old lady and all she could ever get out of him was a random fuck in the sheets. I knew that he had slept with her on a couple occasions, I wasn't stupid. I also knew that Ima wasn't the only girl that Jax had sex with. Gemma and the other old ladies tried to assure me that the boys were doing no wrong when they went out on runs but I knew better than to believe that. Jax was a very attractive guy and he could get any girl he wanted just by looking at them. I mean that's how I ended up in Reno during the biggest snowstorm they've had in years…. When I arrived at the bakery, there was no sign of Gemma's car. I let out a sigh of relief as I gathered my things and starting walking across the street. I slowly opened the door and made a quick glance to see if anyone was there. A couple of the girls that worked for me were setting out freshly baked cookies while a few random customers made their orders for the day. I was just thankful that Gemma hadn't arrived yet, if she was gonna come at all. 

"Oh thank goodness you're here-" One of my employees came running over. "Gemma Teller has been calling all morning looking for you. She even set one of those guys from the club over here to see where you were and why you weren't answering." She was a bit frantic but who could blame her. "She said that she wants you to call her as soon as you get in."

I let out a sigh and nodded my head. "I'll be in my office if you need me." 

She looked at me with sympathetic eyes as I passed her the tray of coffees that I had gotten everyone. I slowly walked towards my office and threw my stuff down on the couch. I wasn't in the mood to talk to Gemma. She was probably the worst customer to have and I’ve had some winners in my day. I decided to call her back on my cell phone since the number was already programed. It only took two rings for her to pick up, meaning that she was sitting by the phone. "It's about time, Presley." She sneered. "I've tried calling you all morning and that little tart that works for you kept saying that you weren't in yet." I let out an annoyed sigh as I listened to her ramble on. "I was starting to get worried but Jax told me that you overslept." I just made a noise, not caring to reply. "I'm sure Jax told you that I’m having a dinner tonight and I need two cakes and tray of Chocolate Cookies." What kind of person orders two cakes and a tray full of cookies to be delivered the same day? I think Gemma honestly thought that she was my only customer.    "Gem, I can't just drop everything I have to do today to make your two cakes and dozens of cookies. Baking takes time you know." I heard her let out a sigh but I wasn't going to back down. "I'll see what I can do but I’m not gonna guarantee anything." Most girls would never speak to Gemma the way I have in the past. There had been times where curse words were flying out of my mouth before I even knew what I was saying. Gemma would just stand there and take it but I knew deep down that she wanted to tear me to shreds. I may have looked meek and small but I wasn't going to take someone barking orders at me when they had no right to do so. "Now, if you would excuse me, I have to get to work." Before she even had a time to respond, I ended the call and placed my phone back in my bag. I sat there for a second, rubbing my protruding stomach. Both Gemma and Jax would get me so worked up about things but I slowly learned not to let them get to me. I sat for a couple more minutes before I got up and went back into the showroom. I had so many orders to fill and Gemma's was the least of my worries at this point. Maybe if she had called in an order, I would have gotten them done and over with. Maybe when she realizes that she's not gonna have any desserts for her dinner tonight, then she'll see that the world of Presley's Sweets and Treats doesn't revolve around her either…. Jax's POV "Hand me that wrench, son." I spoke from underneath the Toyota I was working on. Business was going on an usual at the garage, probably the busiest it's been in days. "Here you go, daddy." Wyatt's little hand handed me the tool. "Thanks bud." I muttered as I took it out of his hand. I could see from the corner of my eye as his little legs swung from the stool he was sitting on. I can't even begin to tell you how much I loved bringing Wyatt to work with me. I could teach him things that the pencil neck that Presley married couldn't. I was able to teach him all about fixing cars, tools, and how to become a future member of SAMCRO. He was my mini-me, the club life ran in his blood. If Presley knew I allowed him to hear about the club, she would probably kick my ass but it was his birthright. He was Wyatt Jackson Teller, not Wyatt Jackson Abbott. I had no problem with Presley's husband, but I knew he had a big problem with me. He hated the fact that Pres dropped Wyatt off to me every morning. He wanted Wyatt to go this little prep school so he could start his education. Hell, he had all the education he needed here at the garage. It's not like I put him in a corner and had him do nothing all day. He helped me and the guys with everything he could. He knew what tools were which and what types of cars we were working on. Gemma would even take him in the office and he would help her with accounting and stuff like that. My kid wasn't stupid! He didn't need to be in a classroom yet. He needed to be with the people he loved and cared about. I didn't go to daycare and I ended up just fine. I'm pretty sure Presley didn't go to daycare either and she's fucking brilliant. I guess you could say that I didn't really like the guy either. I hated the fact that Presley decided that Matthew was the guy that completed her. I hated that Matthew was the one that gave her the life that she wanted and deserved. I hated that Matthew turned Presley into a Stepford Wife. Lastly, I hated the fact that Presley was pregnant and it wasn't mine. That girl was my heart and soul. I knew from the first day I had seen her that I was meant to be with her. There were no other girls that could compete with her and I had to have her. I had to put up a fight that's for sure but I could tell that she liked me as well. To be honest, I can still see it in her eyes….

[weightlessau]

adorable and soft [ateez; jongho]

Warnings: mentions of guns and a few curse words

part two of cute and squishy

summary: the weekly meet up didn’t go quite as you expected (well, maybe you did expect it a little bit)

requested (yay!!), it’s maybe a little more actioney than they wanted but i swear it’s fluffy!

Unfortunately that date Jongho mentioned never panned out. Just after lunch Sunhi and you only had a few minutes to exchange numbers before the whole group made their way home again, because of a 'sudden emergency'. Days after them you went home as well.

Sunhi and you are practically best friends at this point, even if she does keep quite a few secrets from you. Like why there's always one of the other men shadowing behind her when you meet up or where all her money comes from, but you never press on for more information. You're smart enough to guess that whatever her and her group is involved in, you probably don't want to be a part of that.

Today is one of those meet ups Sunhi and you have at least once a week.

'What should we do today?' Sunhi texts you in the morning to which you already have an answer to.

'There's this bar that I've wanted to check out. Do you want to go tonight?'

'Sure! I'll come pick you up at 8'

'Who are you coming with today?' you ask her. You secretly hope that it's Jongho, even though you're still embarrassed that you called him 'squishy', you have to admit that he is quite cute. After some contemplation you have also decided that a date with him may not be a bad idea, but you don't want to be the one to contact him. You're still unsure of his motives, if he really asked you out on a date or if he just said that to fluster you. He didn't have the chance to ask you again. Apparently he's 'out of the city for work'. You didn't want to know what kind of 'work' considering the answer you got after you called Jongho cute. A thinly veiled death threat.

A couple minutes later, Sunhi gives you an answer to your previous question and you think that maybe luck is on your side, 'Joong said that Jongho is free today ;)'

'Stop with the winking,' you whine over text. Of course everyone noticed the conversation Jongho and you had at the lunch table and Sunhi teases you constantly because of that. You're not alone in your suffering, though; you heard that Jongho is only referred to as 'squishy' by the other men.

';)))))' she sends you back and ends the conversation.

At exactly eight o'clock that night a black car pulls up in front of your home. Although you can't see who is sitting inside the car due to the darkened windows, you can be sure that Sunhi and Jongho are waiting for you.

Before you reach the car, Jongho has already hopped out and swung open the backdoor for you.

"My lady," he greets you.

"Thank you, Jongho." He closes the door when you're seated inside and gets into the driver's seat.

"You're still calling me Jongho?" he asks cheekily from the front while Sunhi just laughs at your flustered face.

"That's your name, isn't it?" you say with a smile and a roll of your eyes. He's still flirting with you, maybe you'll have a date by the end of the night, you hope.

Before Jongho can continue your little banter, Sunhi cuts in and you two start a conversation, completely ignoring Jongho at the the front.

When the three of you get into the bar Sunhi and you immediately sit down at a table and order some drinks for you and of course food. Jongho sits down a few tables down, body turned towards your table to see when you're potentially in danger.

Minutes of laughter turn into hours and soon Sunhi and you just slur the whole talk and lean on the table between you heavily while Jongho laughs at you behind his third meal (he has to pass the time sober somehow and what better way than trying the whole menu one by one?). The laugh is wiped off of his face when he sees a man approaching your table and striking up a conversation. He doesn't intervene in any way, before Sunhi or you show any signs of discomfort. But that thought is thrown out when three more men join that Jongho knows closely.

"Aren't you Hongjoong's little bitch?" Jongho hears as he quickly sends a message to his leader and makes his way to your table.

'Rival gang at bar'

'At least four of them'

'Need backup'

Jongho just presses send on his messages and doesn't wait for an answer. He has to get you two out of here before the situation escalades and innocent people get injured.

Turns out that won't be as easy as planned.

"Well if that isn't Choi Jongho." The man nudges a friend standing next to him.

Jongho swallows the insults that are crawling up to his mouth and instead says, "I don't want any stress here, so just leave it." Quietly he adds a quick, "you bastards" as he tries to usher a drunk you and an equally drunk Sunhi out of the bar. Thankfully the bill was already paid when you ordered.

"What did you just say?" A gun is whipped out and the customers of the bar start screaming the second they notice what is happening.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath.

Now the other men have also drawn their guns, pointing them all towards your group. No one says a word now, the whole bar has fallen quiet out of fear. Even you can feel yourself sobering up.

The doors to the bar slam open and Hongjoong marches in, with his gun drawn, closely followed by Wooyoung and San.

"Drop your fucking guns or you'll be in big trouble," Hongjoong threatens, "you're in our territory right now. You don't want me to contact your leader, do you?" He keeps his voice controlled and low, almost like he's having the most boring conversation, making him seem even more threatening.

Your blurry eyes see one of the rival gang's men raise his gun slightly, but before he can go any further a gun shot echoes through the bar before the customers scream out. The man drops down to his knees and clutches his left thigh where blood is oozing out.

"Wooyoung!" Jongho shouts out to the shooter.

"What?" Wooyoung shrugs, "he was about to do something."

The rival's grab the armpits of the injured member and drag him to the exit, where Hongjoong, San and Wooyoung are standing.

"This isn't over," the injured one spits at Hongjoong as they pass him and flee.

Hongjoong lets out a sigh while he looks around at the terrified faces meeting him, including yours. He walks over to his wife and throws his arm over her shoulder, hugging her intoxicated form to him.

"We'll go home now," he announces to the boys. "Jongho, you take [y/n] home." You see the small smirk decorating his face.

"Okay," Jongho agrees and ushers you towards the exit.

As you pass, you could swear that you heard San snicker and say, "good night, squishy."

Outside you are greeted by the biting cold, washing away your drunkenness, when you hurry towards the car.

The car ride is quiet with you trying to process what just happened. But you weren't all that surprised. After all, you expected them to be a part of shady business and that just got confirmed.

"Can you stop when you see a convenience store?" You break the tense silence.

"What would you need at this time?" Jongho asks, confused as he glances over to you shortly.

"I want to drink some more. I can't deal with this shit semi-sober right now. Either I'm completely sober or completely smashed, or I'll go crazy tonight," you explain your sudden plan to him and coincidentally a 24/7 open store appears on the side of the road, making Jongho pull over and park the car.

A few cups of beer and soju later, you're slurring again, leaning against Jongho's broad frame. Your drunken state lets you let loose a little bit. Or more than a little. You even go as far as hugging him, pressing your cheek onto his chest and squeezing him tightly.

"You're so squishy." There's nothing in you that thinks talking to Jongho is a bad thing right now. You drowned all those thoughts with alcohol.

"So soft," you slur and snuggle closer, closing your eyes in bliss.

"Alright, [y/n], I think it's time for you to go home," Jongho laughs and tries to peel you off carefully, but you only tighten your grip and pout up at him, with your chin propped onto his chest.

"No," you look into his eyes firmly to refuse and then press your cheek onto his chest again, closing your eyes.

You feel the rumble of Jongho's laugh vibrating his chest and then feel strong arms embracing you.

"Step on my feet," Jongho tells you and you follow his order, stepping your right foot onto his left and your left onto his right, still clinging onto him but this time with him securing you onto his body as he walks you two to the car. He helps you into your seat and your head immediately lulls to the side, half asleep, as Jongho reaches over you and puts on your belt for you. Before he can duck out of the car to get into the drivers seat, you grab his arm and look up at him with your eyes as pleading as possible.

"I want a good dream," you mumble.

"And why are you telling me that?"

"I want you to-," you pause, "I don't know. I forgot." You cross your arms over your chest and pout again as you look straight ahead, facing away from the still hunched Jongho as if it's his fault that you forgot.

Jongho doesn't try to make you remember and just closes the door and gets in on the other side.

A few minutes of driving pass when suddenly you scream out, "squishy!" making Jongho swerve the wheel.

"That's what I forgot!"

"What the hell, [y/n]!" he slightly raises his voice out of panic. "What does that even have to do with a good dream?"

You shrug, happy that you now know what you forgot, "I don't know."

Jongho has to resist rubbing his face in frustration, a defeated smile taking over his lips. "How about we're quiet the rest of the ride, [y/n]?" Jongho phrases it like a question, but doesn't want an answer from you, which he doesn't get.

You just stare at his side profile for the rest of the ride, admiring his features and his cute little smile. A dreamy smile graces your face as you prop your elbow onto the armrest and your chin onto your hand.

"You're really pretty," you whisper, not even realizing that you're talking. Jongho doesn't show any more reaction than his smile broadening slightly, the action pushing his cheeks up and making them appear more full.

"So soft." As if in a trance, you reach out towards his hypnotizing cheek and quickly grab it between your fingers before Jongho can even react in any way.

"Ow! [y/n]!" he warns you, "let go of my cheek!"

You laugh loudly, "no."

A sigh leaves him and he gives up, trying to rip his face away from your grasp while driving.

Thankfully you arrive just a few minutes later. Jongho helps you walk into your home. Already having a routine for when you come home drunk, you lead him to your kitchen and sit down on the counter.

"I'm thirsty," you slur out, looking at Jongho with half opened eyes.

When he hands you your glass of water after opening every possible drawer and cupboard, you sulk, "and hungry."

A slice of bread and two more glasses of water later, you get ready for bed and Jongho tucks you in for the night. He can't get off the bed though, because you have his arm cuddled against your chest.

"Stay," you hum and pull his arm further to you, making him stumble onto the bed completely, landing beside you. You let go of his arm then and open your arms, "come here, squishy," you pet your chest, "let me cuddle you."

Having given up resisting the drunk you, he lays his head onto your chest and lets you squeeze him, "why do you only call me squishy when you're drunk?" he teases you. There is no point in him feeling embarrassed when he's actually feeling very comfortable in this position, pulling you to him as well.

"Do you not want to be my squishy?"

"Only if you go on a date with me."

"Ask me in the morning."

And with that Jongho can feel you tight grip on him softening. He stays lying next to you until the next morning when he asks you the question properly this time.

"Do you want to go out on a date with me?"

bonus

You accept.

Even though you're together, you still only call him 'squishy' when you're drunk, but he gets reminded of the nickname often enough by his friends.

p.s. thank you so much for 100 followers 🥰

[jenmyeons]

Crush Culture

moodboard credit to crush culture’s biggest fan @kyungseokie​ <3 

Pairing: kyungsoo x female reader Summary: Turns out drunk-dialing your crush in the middle of the night isn’t as bad as you initially thought.

Word count: 1620

Author’s note: what was supposed to be a drabble turned into a lot a little more but this is hopefully the fluffiness you were seeking jae! can’t believe i’m taking a fluff request from the queen of fluff herself @j-pping​ this is wild 

A dragged out ‘Kyungsoo~’ greets him over the line when he in his disoriented sleepy state answers the phone with a grumble.

The sound of your voice with the unmistakable drunken slur immediately has him perking up as he leans in squinting, trying to make sense of what ungodly hour of the night or morning it is. In the end, Kyungsoo gives up and instead asks why he’s the one at the receiving end of your drunk dialing. 

“I- I just-” you hiccup while trying to get the words out. “I just missed you so, so, so, so, so much. Why didn’t you come with me and the tall ones out for drinks, Kyungsoo~?” 

Kyungsoo’s brows draw together in confusion. “The tall ones… do you mean Chanyeol and Sehun?” 

The answer he receives is an almost incomprehensible one but he thinks he makes out a yes. Relief. At least you’re in somewhat good hands, Kyungsoo thinks to himself.

“Where are you? Are you still with the idiots?” He asks, worry lacing his still sleep-heavy voice. 

“No, no, no!” You interject. “They left for this… this… I don’t know,” you relent at last and Kyungsoo can feel his stomach sinking at the thought of you out by yourself without a sober cell in your body.

“I wanna go home” There are sniffles heard now and Kyungsoo sighs with defeat, you always were an emotional drunk. 

“Tell me where you are and I’ll pick you up,” there is no hesitation in his statement and before you’ve even replied with a vague description of your whereabouts, Kyungsoo already has a pair of sweats on, heading for the door without bothering with a jacket. He quickly slips his shoes on and walks out of the apartment with determination in his step.

The drive from Kyungsoo’s home isn’t very far from your location and he is relieved to see that you followed his simple instructions to stay where you are while he makes the drive to pick you up. 

You’re seated at the sidewalk with your high heeled shoes taken off and discarded to the side, forgotten, as your knight in shining armor pulls up with his sleek car a few meters away. In the time since Kyungsoo ended the call with you in order to concentrate on his driving, you’d managed to at least somewhat sober up the slightest bit. The lack of alcohol fogging your brain quickly reminds you of the predicament you’ve put yourself in; drunk dialing long time friend and crush in the middle of the night, forcing him to come save you from what could otherwise end in disaster, had you actually stayed out in the middle of the night all alone.

The door of the driver’s side opens and a disheveled and unfairly good looking Kyungsoo appears in your line of sight. Looking good despite being rudely awakened at an ungodly hour should be illegal, you think to yourself. 

Without much more than a greeting and a ‘how are you feeling?’, to which you answer with an unconvincing ‘fine’, Kyungsoo pulls you up from the sidewalk and steers you over to his car. 

The vehicle smells like him is all you can think as you buckle your seatbelt in silence. As if every little thing doesn’t already remind you of him. His own natural scent along with the faint hint of his cologne feels like it will consume you and you can’t wait for this drive to soon be over. Streetlights pass by in a blur and Kyungsoo’s soft humming to whatever tune is playing on the radio and fatigue takes you over. The alcohol starts wearing off and with Kyungsoo’s angelic voice, you’re quickly lulled to sleep. 

Your soft snoring reaches Kyungsoo’s ears and he steals a quick glance at your sleeping state, head resting against the window, passing street lamps fleetingly lighting up your features and he thinks you look a lot younger while you’re sleeping. As quickly as he takes his eyes off the road to look at you, Kyungsoo tears his gaze away from you to focus on the task at hand. He contemplates for a while if he should make the long drive to your own place across town but decide against it as he feels a yawn separating his lips. Blinking away the fatigue which starts to once again cloud his eyes behind his thick rimmed glasses. His right hand itches to release the steering wheel and instead grab your left one which rests on your thigh. Not wanting to cross any boundaries, Kyungsoo grips the wheel a little stronger and tries thinking about something else. Anything other than how your fingers would feel intertwined with his.

The car coming to a halt in front of the familiar building of Kyungsoo’s apartment and the gentle shaking of your shoulder pulls you into consciousness. It takes a minute or two for your disoriented brain to connect the dots of your whereabouts and you send Kyungsoo a questioning look.

“I don’t trust that I can drive you all the way home without falling asleep at the wheel,” he explains softly and you know deep down that he probably doesn’t mind, he wouldn’t have picked you up otherwise, yet the need to apologize still takes over.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him sincerely and feel the warmth of a blush spreading through your cheeks. “I shouldn’t have called you this late.”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’d rather you wake me up in the middle of the night than going home all by yourself.”

Not sure what to say so you just nod and open the car door. The chill of the night air making you shiver while still being refreshing in contrast to the stuffy air inside the car.

“I’ll make you a cup of tea once we get inside,” Kyungsoo states casually, walking around the car to lead you towards the entrance of the building. Your feet slightly unsteady from a night of drinking and wearing heels.

True to his words, the first thing he does when the two of you get inside is turn the kettle on while you settle on one of the stools by the kitchen counter. Kyungsoo works in silence, only asking what kind of tea you want and you feel strangely out of place in your friend’s home. Unsure whether it’s due to the embarrassment of drunk calling your crush or the suffocating quietness but the atmosphere is making your brain malfunction. You observe how he with a familiar comfort shuffles around the kitchen, heart thumping against your rib cage as you imagine how it would be to see this on a daily basis. How lucky you would be. 

Then Kyungsoo looks at you as he places the teacup in front of you and the last bit of liquid courage leaves your system in five daunting words.

“I’m in love with you.” 

Your right hand instantly flies up to cover your mouth as soon as the words that have haunted you for years are spoken into existence. You watch with dread as Kyungsoo’s round eyes widen in shock, his mouth falling agape and the regret of your confession comes creeping, burning your cheeks and neck. 

After an eternity of regret and furious blushing on your part, Kyungsoo finally breaks the quiet.

“Come again?” 

“Please don’t make me say it again,” you plead with tears of embarrassment threatening to spill as well as a thickness building in your throat, awaiting the rejection which you’re sure will come.

In a weak attempt at gathering yourself, turn away from the intense stare of Kyungsoo’s gaze - needing to focus on anything other than the man holding your heart. 

Kyungsoo, normally calm and collected can feel both his mind and heart racing from the words of the confession which still hang in the air. Waiting for him to say something - anything really. However, all words have left him and he stays rooted in his spot. The moment he has been dreaming of finally arrives and like a dumbass, he can’t even tell you he loves you too. He is so deeply in love to the point where he wonders if anyone has ever sparked such feelings in him before you. Probably not. 

Your stressed out state and the way you turn your head to look away from him seems to do the trick as his hands move to cup your face at their own accord, forcing you to look back at him. There’s a fragment of a moment where Kyungsoo hesitates as he leans in before his lips lock with yours. 

Instinctively, your hands find purchase at his waist - pulling him closer by the fabric of the worn out t-shirt you’re sure he only ever wears to bed. The kiss deepens at the slight tilt of Kyungsoo’s head and your mouth works against his until the lack of air becomes overbearing. As you pull apart, his hands stay firmly where your neck meets your ears, rough thumbs stroking gently at your cheeks.

“We’ll talk more about this in the morning,” he manages to make out breathily after several moments of silence. His gaze then flickering down to your forgotten teacup on the counter. “For now, just drink your tea then let’s go to bed.”

How he manages to keep up a cool exterior is beyond him and the smile playing at your lips makes his heart race wildly, making him steal a chaste kiss before settling down beside you, playing with your free hand as the two of you chat about anything other than the elephant in the room while you drink your tea. 

You can definitely get used to this.

[for-when-i-have-an-idea]

A Lonely Figure

Dimitri/Reader

It was on a particularly cold night for the season that Dimitri found himself wandering the grounds of the old Officers Academy. It was not uncommon for him to do this when he found sleep particularly difficult, and tonight finding respite was impossible. Too many thoughts were running through his head: some simply about tasks he would need to accomplish once the sun rose and the others awoke; others were more… troubling, but he’d sworn never to let the voices control him again.

The warm glimmer of candlelight stopped both thoughts and footsteps, and Dimitri found himself undeniably drawn to the warm flickering glow. It came from the classroom that once belonged to the Blue Lions, the once bold banners now faded and tattered. Five years of neglect took its toll on all things, it seemed. A figure stood silhouetted in the room and the blond prince knew exactly who it was – even if their outline had changed somewhat – though part of him still scarcely believed it. They… had been dead, their body disappeared, but a moon ago, yet here they stood, hale and hearty though isolated from the rest of their group.

Seeing (Y/n) again in the streets of Derdriu had been such a jarring moment that Dimitri had originally thought himself hallucinating once more. But when he saw the rest of the former Lions reacting to their presence he knew that what he was seeing was not a ghost, but more a miracle. They had been dead, another voice in his mind. But they had not been of the vengeful kind; they had spoken gentle reassurances, hummed melodies of their people that he had not heard since he was a child. Yet, in some ways, these things had made their ghost the worst of them all.

It had been their and Rodrigue’s deaths combined that had finally broken down what little of him that remained. The two of them were what had allowed for a warm hand to reach out to him in a cold rainstorm, and help him take the last step on one long road and the first onto a new one: the road to redemption. (Y/n)’s plans for the recapturing of both Fhirdiad and Arianrhod – hidden away in the desk of their old room – had been the final push he needed in his decision to return to his people, to save them from Imperial tyranny. He… owed them so much, more than they were willing to take credit for.

Dimitri approached as quietly as he could manage, not wanting to startle (Y/n) from their no doubt contemplative state. They had been far quieter since returning, more solemn. They did not speak as often as he remembered, nor with the same strength or confidence that had always been their hallmarks. But he knew why, he could recognise that look in their eyes anywhere: a deep rooted feeling of unworthiness. Dimitri could, in fact, recall one other time where his former classmate had been driven to a similar silence, and he suppressed a shudder at the memory of watching the Death Knight’s scythe tear into the flesh of their shoulder with far too much ease. Back then it had not been him to bring them out of their melancholy, but this time he would do all he could to help. Just as they had done for him.

As his steps continued to take him ever closer to the former classroom his ears picked up on a sound that he had not heard in years, perhaps even in a decade. The quiet tune was familiar to him, one of the gentle songs that the elders among (Y/n)’s people had sung to children they wished to lay to sleep. Back then, he had not understood a word of what they were saying, seeing as they spoke a language separate from that of Fódlan, but the melody had lulled him and his friends to sleep many nights, regardless. Tonight, however, he heard everything, felt every syllable in his soul. This had always been one of (Y/n)’s talents: when they spoke, people listened and felt.

“You shouldn’t be awake at these late hours, Dimitri,” their spoken word cut through the silence left by what they had sung, and the prince’s attention turned very poignantly back to them, though they remained facing away from him, hands clasped together at the small of their back. “You have too much you need to accomplish tomorrow for such late nights.”

His heart stung a little at hearing them call him by his name. Though he wished so dearly that all of his comrades would call him by it, he was not used to hearing it from (Y/n). He couldn’t remember a time where he hadn’t simply been ‘Mitya’ to them, except for these last several moons. He supposed he deserved far worse for the way he had been acting, so though his heart was heavy at the distance between them, he would take the mercy they were willing to give him.

“I find it difficult to fall asleep this night,” Dimitri replied, finally setting foot into the gently lit room, still attempting to stay as quiet as possible, not wanting to break this spell. “And besides, I could say the same to you.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that there will be much for me to do.” And there it was, that veiled tone of bitterness that had been plaguing (Y/n)’s words since they returned. “Perhaps lay a few plans for the army’s future movements, though I do not think that they will be taken into much consideration.”

“Why would you say such a thing?” Dimitri found himself exclaiming, unable to hold back his own thoughts in the face of their dejectedness. “You have always been one of our greatest tactical minds. Together, you and the professor have devised strategy upon strategy that have not only assured our victories but have kept us alive. Kept me alive, even when I wished that I was not.”

They did not respond to him, simply remained stoically facing towards the old teacher’s desk, shoulders rising and falling with their steady breaths. He could see nothing of their face and it bothered him endlessly in this moment.

“We all owe you so many thanks. I most of all.”

“You owe me nothing, Dimitri,” (Y/n) responded with a speed that caught the prince entirely off guard, their head finally turning to allow him to see the corner of one of their eyes; still, they would not look at him. “I have done nothing that warrants your thanks.”

“That is not the truth, my friend.” A tentative step forward and thankfully they did not move to shy away from him. “You helped me return from the abyss that I had fallen into over the last five years. Your words as you laid there… dying still linger in my mind, and each day you were gone I did my utmost to recall what you and Rodrigue said in your final moments and live by your words.”

“I should have been here!” Finally the nomad spun around to face the prince, face hardened and (e/c) eyes glassy. “I should have been here to support you in your state, not throwing myself into death at your feet! What I did was no more than the actions of a coward that could not stand to see their friends continue down the path they were on! So I took action in the only way I could think. A calculated risk that I had no way of guaranteeing whether would work as I intended or would simply drive you further away from reality. Such actions are not worthy of thanks! They are cowardice…”

And then they broke, the sheen in their eyes spilling over into fat tears that rolled down their cheeks as steadily as the rain had poured down following the battle at Gronder. Dimitri felt his own heart break at the sight before him and before he could stop himself he crossed what distance that remained between the two of them and enveloped his old friend in as gentle a hug as he could manage. His form hid them completely, cloak obscuring them both from any unwanted eyes that might find them. (Y/n) heaved a heavy, broken breath into their lungs and their own arms found their place around his middle. Dimitri said nothing as they stood together in the classroom, the world around them just as silent. 

For a long while all that existed between them were the sounds of sorrow – sobs and shuddered breaths – but eventually (Y/n) calmed enough to speak but three words: “I’m sorry, Mishka.”

Dimitri’s own breathing broke at the nickname and for but a moment he was once again ten years old, sitting outside the tent of one of the nomadic families with Ingrid, Sylvain, Felix and (Y/n) by his side, listening to an older woman as she vividly recounted a tale that he had never heard before. The woman – Tanja, he thought he remembered – had called him Mishka for the first time that day. ‘Someday you will be as big and fierce as one, but also just as warm and gentle. I can tell.’ He had never learned what the word meant.

Instead of responding to (Y/n)’s words with ones of his own, Dimitri felt tears gently trace their way down his own face and after allowing himself a single, hiccuped breath, let his face fall onto their shoulder.

And the two of them stayed like that, though neither knew for how long, until exhaustion both mental and physical, came to claim them both. Finally, they slept well for the remainder of that night.

[bangtan-sonyeonddaeng]

Namjoon Scenario| He overworks himself while on holiday

“I can’t believe Namjoon is still working on our break.” Jin has been having a difficult time fully enjoying his time off knowing that his best friend has been working almost all throughout their break.

“Trust me I feel the same way. Last night he was up until 3 in the morning working on songs, answering emails. I swear it’s like he never really takes a break.” Yoongi says with a long drawn out sigh. 

“If y/n knew about this oh gosh she’d have a fit. She’d make him put his phone away and take an actual vacation or something.” Suddenly Hoseok perks up at Jin’s idea.

“That’s a great idea hyung! Let’s call her right now.” 

“Wait wait no! We can’t rat out our leader.. can we?”

“It’s for his own good.” Hoseok pulls his phone out and calls you. 

You hear your phone ringing and glance down at the caller ID. You smile when you see it's Hoseok. 

“Hey Hobi!”

“Hello sunshine! What are you doing today?”

“Oh nothing really. Just hanging around the apartment watching movies. Why?”

“Can you come over? It’s about Namjoon.” You turn the TV off and stand up to collect your things, thinking something is wrong. 

“Is he okay?! Did something happen?”

“No no! Everything is fine he just.. well he’s not really taking a proper break if you understand what I’m saying.”

“Is he still working on his songs and answering company emails?! I told him not to do that and put his electronics away.”

“Yeah we know. Trust me we tried to do the same but he won’t listen. Maybe you could uh, I don’t know. Kidnap him or something for a few days?” 

“Gladly. I’ll be there soon.” You sigh and shake your head, scrolling through your contacts to find Namjoon's.

You’re in trouble mister. A little birdie told me you haven’t been taking time off like you were told. Now I’m coming to kidnap you for the weekend so pack up some things. I’ll be there in a little bit. 

You are about to put your phone in your pocket when your phone chimes with a new message.

Does that little birdie’s name stark with a H and end with obi? 

I will not reveal my sources. 

Y/n I appreciate the thought really. But I have so much stuff to do I don’t think I can afford to take time off. 

Namjoon your manager gave you guys time off because they knew they could handle things while you were gone. You need to just enjoy your time off and live like a normal human for a few days. So! Leave your phone at home, pack up your bag, and get ready to go. 

Where are we even going? 

Do you trust me?

Of course. 

Then just pack some warm clothing, for a few days. Maybe some durable shoes. You’ll see where we’re going. I think you’ll really like it. 

Alright fine, you win.

And there’s no cellphone service or wifi so don’t even think about being sneaky and trying to bring your phone or laptop you hear me?

Namjoon was about to put his phone in a compartment in his suitcase when he sees your message. He shakes his head and sighs with a fond smile on his face. 

“Alright y/n. We’ll do things your way.” He says to himself. He packs up his things and goes out into the living room where he sees Hoseok and Jin still sitting on the couch.

“I can’t believe you guys told on me like a bunch of children.” 

“Well you wouldn’t listen to us but we know you’ll listen to y/n. Your little crush on her is extremely obvious you know?” Hoseok replies with a shrug. Namjoon’s face goes red at that. 

“Well now I’m going to be going somewhere with her for a few days. Apparently it’s some big secret I don’t get to know about. There’s no cell service or wifi so I will be unreachable for a few days. Maybe longer if she’s about to lure me to my death.” Jin laughs loudly at that and shakes his head.

“It’s fine Namjoonie! We can hold down the fort while you’re gone. Go enjoy your few days off with the love of your life.” Jin makes kissy faces at Namjoon and he grabs a pillow off the couch and throws it in retaliation, hitting him square in the face. 

“Rude! Is that anyway to thank the person who is responsible for your little getaway with y/n?”

“Hey! Don’t you take credit it was my idea to call her!” Hoseok interjects. 

“Eh, details details.” Jin waives him off with his hand. It’s a little while longe before he hears you knocking on the door.

“Guess I better get going then. See you guys in a few days.” 

Namjoon answers the door and sees you standing there, looking as cute as ever. He smiles his dimpled smile at you. 

“Hey y/n. Good to see you again.” 

“You too! Now where’s your phone?” Jin holds it up from the couch. 

“Right here! Don’t worry he has no electronics with him we checked before you got here.” 

“You don’t trust me y/n? I’m hurt.” You playfully smack his shoulder and laugh. 

“Obviously I don’t have reason to since you lied to me when you promised you would relax on this break.” He looks at you sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. “Alright enough talking. We got about a 3 hour drive ahead of us so.. we should get going. Bye Jin! Bye Hobi!”

“Bye y/n! Take good care of our leader!” 

After you pack up the car you begin the drive. Your family owned a small cabin in the mountains that you liked to go to for little getaways from all the chaos in life. And you decided it would be the perfect place to take Namjoon. He must not have had much sleep last night because the moment you turned on some music you could hear quiet snores escaping his lips. You look over and smile fondly at him, having the urge to kiss him but you quickly bury the thought. You knew he liked you. He wasn’t exactly good at hiding his feelings for you but you didn’t want to call him out on it. Not yet anyway.

You drive in relative silence save for the music playing and Namjoon’s snoring. You’re almost there when one of the songs’ from his mixtape comes on. You start softly singing along to it, not realizing he had woken up. When you finish the song he perks up and looks at you.

“You have a really beautiful voice. You should do a song with me someday.” You jump, not aware that he was listening to you. 

“Um.. T-thank you. Maybe someday. I don’t know if I could handle being the spotlight though. I like being you secret best friend for now.” He stretches and lets out a groan and you try to keep your eyes fixated on the road and not where a patch of his stomach is showing from his shirt riding up. 

“Are we almost there?” His voice snaps you out of your thoughts. 

“Yeah actually. Just a few more minutes.” 

You pull onto the dirt road which leads you up to the cabin. Namjoon takes in the sight of everything with a smile on his face. 

“This is amazing. It’s so beautiful up here! What is this place?”

“It’s our family cabin. We used to come where all the time when I was a kid. I still come here when I need to get away for a little while. I figured it would be good for you too.” You step out of the car as does he, grabbing your bags from the back and heading into the cabin. You had bought groceries and supplies before picking up Namjoon so you two could stay at the cabin undisturbed for a few days. 

“Oh there’s a lake too!” Namjoon drops his bags in the living room and runs out to the porch doors to admire the view. “This is amazing. I never would have imagined you’d bring me to some place like this.”

“Well, I know how much you appreciate nature so...” Your voice trials off and you look down at your hands when you feel his gaze on you. 

“This is really thoughtful of you. Thank you y/n. Truly from the bottom of my heart.” 

“You’re welcome. You want to go fishing so we can catch us dinner?”

“Ah, fishing is Jin and Yoongi’s specialty..”

“It’s okay. I’ll show you.” 

The next few hours are spent fishing. Namjoon accidentally throws the fishing pole into the lake the first time he casts it, forgetting to keep a good grip on it. He’s embarrassed but you can’t help but burst out laughing. You assure him it’s okay and give him another fishing pole to try again. You end up catching enough for the two of you. And Namjoon did catch one fish, although it was too small to eat. He decided to keep in a bucket for a little while claiming it was his new buddy. 

The days goes on and it’s right before bed. You are preparing to light the fire place as it’s going to get quite cold at night. 

“Need any help with that?”

“You threw the fishing pole into the lake I don’t need you setting my cabin on fire too.” He looks at you wide eyed and you chuckle. “I’m just messing with you Namjoon. Of course you can help. Can you grab me the firewood from the side of the house?” 

“Sure.” He comes back in moments with a disgruntled look on his face.

“Did you have me do that because you knew the wood was going to be covered in bugs?” You laugh at that loudly having been read so easily. 

“Maybe! You know I hate spiders.” A deep chuckle escapes his lips and you love the sound of it.  He hands you the firewood. You light it and within moments you have a nice cozy fire for the two of you. He sits down next to you, letting your shoulders barely brush up against one another. 

“So what are the sleeping arrangements going to be like? You only have one bed. I don’t mind taking the couch.”

“That’s not necessary we can sleep in the bed together.”

“B-but.. I don’t know won’t you be uncomfortable?”

“No? Unless you’re a blanket hog then we might have problems.” 

“I’m definitely not. But I just-”

“Hey, Joonie it’s fine. I am more than okay with this.” He’s internally panicking, worrying he’s going to do something stupid like cuddle up to you while he’s asleep. Or talk in his slleep. Oh god what if he confesses to you or something while he’s half asleep because he isn’t thinking clearly.

“... Or if you aren’t comfortable with it we can sleep separately.”

“No!” He yells a little to eagerly. “I mean no. That’s okay. It’s fine. This is fine.” You hold in the giggle that is threatening to erupt from your lips at how flustered he is. You contemplate maybe confessing to him first to put him out of his misery. You stand up from the floor and walk over to the bed to lay down. Namjoon follows shortly after and settles in next to you. You lay there quietly for a few moments, the only sound being the crackle of the fireplace.

“Namjoon-”

“Y/n-.” You both start at the same time. 

“You first.” 

“Just.. I wanted to say thank you for doing this for me. I know I gave you a hard time at first but I really am grateful for you caring enough about my wellbeing to drop everything and bring me here.”

“Of course. You work so hard and you deserve a break. The other members were worried you were going to overwork yourself into the ground and I couldn’t let that happen. I care about you too much.” You see a slight blush forming on his cheeks. 

“So um, what were you going to say?”

“Well, I hope I haven’t been reading things wrong the past few months we’ve known each other otherwise this is going to be really awkward.” The words get choked up in your throat as you are suddenly nervous. He turns on his side to face you and you do the same. Before you can take anything back you lean in and peck a kiss to his forehead. Namjoon stares at you in shock, mouth hanging open and eyes remaining wide and unblinking. 

“Y-you.. you kissed me.”

“I did.” 

“Why did... Do it again.” You laugh and lean in to kiss his forehead again, then to his cheek, and then a quick peck to his lips. You go to pull away but he holds you firmly in place, lacing his fingers through your hair and pulling you closer to him. You remain that way for a few moments before he pulls away. 

“Wow.. I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

“You should have then! Why did you make me make the first move?”

“Because I was too chicken to say anything.” 

“Fair enough.” Namjoon smiles and pulls you closer to him, one hand resting on the small of your back and the other placed gently on the back of your head. You bury your face in his chest, breathing in the comforting scent that is him. Within moments you are asleep. You don’t have to put a label on anything right now. You both know your feelings from one another, and you have the rest of the week to figure everything out while you make sure Namjoon has the best holiday he’s ever had, because in your mind he deserves that and so much more. 

[seouledbysisi]

Something New

Chapter 20

Jaehyun

He slid in behind Sasha on the bed. He knew she wasn’t asleep yet but he didn’t say a work or make a sound. He just needed to hold her and let her feel the love that he had always held for her. She was the only woman that he could ever see himself with. He knew kids were a big deal but what they had was even bigger. His life without her would be a train-wreck and he knew from experience. The entire time that he was in Korea without her, he could barely function. His members would constantly ask him what was wrong and the only one who know what the problem was was Johnny and Taeil. Hell, Taeil was in his own turmoil during that time too so he knew from experience as well. 

Sasha turned over and cradled her head into Jaehyun’s chest. “I absolutely shouldn’t have told you that the way i did. I’m sorry.” She whispered without looking at him. 

“We don’t have to talk about it right now.” He kissed the top of her head. 

“But I want to. You deserve pure honesty.” She sighed. “I was experiencing heavy bleeding so I got checked out and they did a ultra-sound and my uterus was abnormal.”

Jaehyun rubbed up and down her hip softly as he listened. “Why wouldn’t you tell me that you were having problems? Haven’t I always been here for you?” 

“Yes but I didn’t know how to deal with this so I kept it to myself hoping that it would just go away but it’s not. It’s real and I might not be able to give you the things in life that I know you need.” She began to cry softly into his shirt. 

Jaehyun raised her face off of him and stared deeply at her. “The only thing I’ll ever need is you. We could have a million kids and it wouldn’t change the fact that you are my world.” 

She stared at him with innocent eyes. “You’ll eventually regret saying that.” 

“Stop telling me how I should feel and what I will do. I’m telling you right now and I’ll always feel like this. I want you for the rest of my life.” He rose off the bed and began searching through his suitcase for God knows what. 

She stared at him with her eyebrow risen. “What are you doing?” She giggled a bit. He was so random. 

He kept quiet and focused on the contents of his bag. “Found it!” He exclaimed and walked over to her side of the bed and kneeled down on one knee.

Her body froze as she stared at what was in his hand. 

He cleared his throat. “When I said I wanted you for the rest of my life, I meant it. I don’t care what that contract says. In my eyes you’re already my wife anyway, so let’s make it official while we’re back in your hometown. Marry me?” He flashed her a cocky grin as if he knew she couldn’t resist. 

“How long have you been planning this?” She asked with eyes as wide as a sea. 

He chuckled. “Can I have a answer first?”

“Oh of course!” She fell into his embrace and kissed on his neck. Things began to get heated as she pulled him off the floor and on top of her. 

He pulled back from her as he caught his breath. “Hold on, let me put the ring on you.” He slid it on. “And I’ve had this ring for over a year, contemplating on whether I should just forget about the contract or not. I guess you had more power over me.” 

She smirked as she licked her lips. “As I should, now make love to me!” 

Brianne

“By the way we’re not hanging with those people tonight.” Her boyfriend spoke nonchalantly to her.

She looked over at him as he drove. “Why would you even have a choice in that matter?” 

“Because we already have plans with our friends. Those people are from your past and I’m sorry that it didn’t work out but you’ve moved on and your life is fine without them. You’ve survived!”

She giggled a bit from irritation. “This isn’t working.” 

He stomped on the breaks quickly and swerved to the side of the road and grabbed her arm roughly. “If you think you’re going to break up with me, you’re wrong. You’re mine until I say so.” He stared at her with so much anger built up. 

She snatched her arm away from him. “You asshole! You bruised my arm.” 

“If you don’t watch your tone, you’ll get worse.” He started back driving.

She forced back tears. He had always been verbally abusive but never physically. This was the last straw. She felt like God was punishing her for what she did to Taeil. She would’ve been much happier had she stayed with him. Her life would be so much different and she wouldn’t be staring at that damn bruise on her arm. “Take me home.” 

“Babe, I’m sorry gosh. Don’t ruin this day for us.” He responded with a smile on his face. 

She shook her head. “I said take me home. If you don’t I swear I will call the police on you.” She spoke with a bit more force. She was finally taking her voice back from him. She didn’t know why she felt like she didn’t deserve love but she was making a change and letting this bum go was the start. 

He stopped his car. “Get the fuck out my car. You can walk for all I care since you want to go home so bad.” 

She grabbed her purse and snatched his car door open and slammed it closed. He drove off so fast that she nearly caught whiplash just from watching him zoom off. 

She was right around the corner from her house anyway and she could use some fresh air. She stared at her phone for a moment. She pulled up her contacts and let her finger linger over Taeil’s name. She wondered was his number still the same. What would she even say? The damage was done. He was gone. She was sure he had moved on, but had she? 

She took a deep breath and allowed her finger to press the call button. The phoen rang and rang till she thought he wouldn’t answer. 

“Hello?” He spoke into the phone with an unsure voice. “Brianne?” 

she held the phone, shaken up that he had answered. She didn’t think she could talk. Hearing his voice in all these years seemed so foreign yet so right. 

“Hello?” He spoke again. 

She hung up as she began to freak out in her head. Tear streamed down her face. She sat on the sidewalk in front of her house. 

Her phone began to ring. She took a deep breath. She couldn’t figure out why she had called him just to hang up in his face.  

Taeil. 

She stared at his name.

Johnny

He watched Ivy as she tried to calm Hendrix down. He was a ball of energy, especially at nighttime. She looked exhausted, which was how she looked most of the time but she insisted on not having a nanny. 

He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. He grabbed the little boy up and sat him on his leg. “Mommy is tired so can you please settle down?” He smiled as he rubbed the boy’s long wavy hair. 

Henny pouted. “i wanna play.” He spoke in his small voice. 

Johnny shook his head. “No, we’ve been playing all day. You sleep. Now!” 

Hendrix began to cry a little. 

“And if you cry, we won’t be able to buy treats for tomorrow.” Johnny pouted back at the kid. 

The toddler simply laid his head on his dad and eventually fell asleep. 

Johnny quickly took him to Jaehyun’s little brother’s old room and laid him down. He left the door open just in case he woke up. 

When he came back, Ivy was brushing her hair up into a bun. “How does it always work for you?” 

“I guess I just have the magic touch.” He smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and stared at her in the mirror. 

She simply sighed and closed her eyes. His embrace was what she needed because she felt like she was losing touch with herself. She adored being a mother but it was hard not having a lot of help. 

“I think it’s time for you to go back to work. You’re not happy and I know it was your decision to be a stay-at-home-mom but I don’t like seeing you like this.” He admitted. 

She shook her head. “I’m fine, I swear.” 

“You lie. You’re not fine. I miss the old you. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t pursue your own dreams because we have a kid. You’re entitled to a life outside of Hendrix too.” He squeezed her. “We need a nanny.” 

“I just don’t want Hendrix to feel like we’re both deserting him.” She sighed.

Johnny gave her a small smile. “I want him to learn from experience that it’s okay to follow your inhibitions. We’re doing this for him as much as for us.” 

She thought for a moment. She knew he was right but she hate giving him that type of credit cause he would make such a big deal over it. “Whatever you say, babe.” She smiled. 

“Also, me and Jae had a idea and I think you’re going to love it.” He added with a smirk. 

She knew he was up to something. “Oh gosh, I’m scared.” 

“You remember that penthouse that we saw online that was for rent a couple weeks ago?” 

She raised an eyebrow. “Mhm?” 

“Well me and Jae were thinking that we could rent it.” 

“Why would Jae need to help you make that type of decision?” She was clearly confused. 

Johnny laughed and turned her around to face him. “No babe, me and Jae are going to get the penthouse for all of us to live in. You’ll be happier and you’ll have more help with Hendrix.” 

“I mean I love the idea but what about Sasha? She’s super attached to Jae’s siblings. That might be a problem.” 

“I’m sure he’ll find a way to get her to say yes.” He kissed her lips softly. “I’m just trying to make you feel better.” 

She smiled. He always had a way of solving all her problems even when she had never even voiced the problems. He was always waiting to save her. “I love you so much.” 

“I know. Who wouldn’t?” He chuckled. 

She slapped his arm. “You always find a way to ruin the moment.” 

[5sospank]

clean - calum one shot

word count: 6,883

rating: NSFW

keywords: smut, songfic, angst

request: “do you think you could write a calum smut where he lives across the street but you never really talked to him but then you guys get really close because you drive him home from a party or something and you just go to each other’s houses in the middle of the night” - Anonymous

A/N: as always, i tweaked the anon’s prompt, but i ended up really liking what i wrote. i combined the request with bits and pieces of ideas i came up with while listening to clean by the japanese house. but basically, calum - your former childhood best friend and current kindhearted neighbor - picks you up from a house party after your (ex)boyfriend cheats on you. maybe i got a bit carried away.

Your throat was raw from the alcohol and dark eyeliner was smudged beneath your eyes. You could feel the coldness from the concrete below seeping into your skin through the thick denim material of your jeans, making you shiver as you sat on the front steps of some stranger’s place, contemplating what your next move should be.

In all honestly, you could’ve called up your best friend, or your parents, or even your older brother. But you didn’t want to be questioned about the reason behind your tears or the shake of your hands or why you had locked yourself in an unfamiliar bathroom and screamed your lungs out while a house party was in full swing just downstairs. You wanted the comfort of being with someone who knew nothing about you, who had no clue as to why the girl who was always perfectly put together had seemingly fallen apart.

So you pulled your phone from the pocket of your coat, your fingers trembling as you scrolled through your contacts and clicked on his name. Part of you thought he wouldn’t even pick up. It was nearing three in the morning, and you rarely ever spoke to him anymore - only a text here and there regarding the science homework. The boy across the street was probably fast asleep, completely dead to the superficial little world that you had been immersed in for the night.

However, when Calum answered the phone, his voice thick with exhaust, you managed to smile, despite the recent events that you had endured.

“Y/N?” He said your name in confusion.

“Calum,” you breathed out immediately. “I need a favor. Please.”

There was a slight pause on the other line. Low noises were heard in the background, but then the phone was seemingly held to Calum’s ear again. He released an audible sigh, then cleared his throat. “Uh, okay. Anything. What do you need? Are you all right?”

You opened your mouth to reply instantly, but then shut it once you felt a familiar lump form in your chest. Whenever someone asked how you were, there was always the usual easy answer: “I’m good, thanks. How are you?” But now, you knew you weren’t all right. You were crouched down on the front steps, the cold air biting at your skin as tears dried on your cheeks and your body shook with shivers. You weren’t all right in the slightest, and all you wanted was to go home, to get away from the party and what you had just seen.

You bit your lip to keep from crying again. “Just - can you just come get me?”

There was no hesitation this time. “Okay. Where are you?”

And then you felt it - your shoulders sinking with relief, the lump in your chest dissipating at the sound of Calum’s earnest tone that you recalled from when the two of you were kids, from a few years ago, even. After all this time, he would still jump at the chance to do you a favor in the ugly hours of the night. You and him had definitely grown apart since those days when you two were inseparable, but it was clear that Calum would still be there for you no matter what.

So you told him the address and hung up. He said he would be there in a few minutes - the two of you lived closeby, thankfully - but still, the waiting was eating at you. You could hear the party going on at full swing inside, and you could only imagine what your boyfriend was doing now. Was he still with her? Did he even know that you had shown up to the party at all? You had not a clue, and frankly, you wanted to stop thinking about it. Analyzing the poor situation at hand would only tug at the hole forming in your heart.

You kept your eyes trained on the toes of your boots on the concrete in front of you. People were in and out of the house, disregarding your figure slumped over on the steps as they frequented from their cars to inside the house. You felt invisible, and strangely, it was a nice sensation.

Finally, Calum’s car rolled up to the curb. It was his mother’s old minivan. You had seen him pulling out of the driveway across the street a few times, always with those boys that he used to hang around with when he was young. Calum never ventured away from the people that he knew and was comfortable around, unlike you. And that was why the two of you had drifted apart once high school started.

Now, however, you had never been happier to see him in your life. It had been so long since you had breathed in his scent or even met his eyes for longer than a few sparing moments at a time. He was familiar, but he didn’t know you - not anymore. And that was exactly what you needed, what you craved.

You swung open the passenger door, your breathing still uneven as you sank into the leather seat beside him, pulling your seat belt over your chest. Your vision was still slightly hazy and you knew your head wasn’t in the best place. “Hi, Calum.” You mumbled.

“Are you okay?” He questioned, not bothering with a standard greeting. The minivan was still in park and when you finally brought yourself to look at him, you saw that he was in his pajamas. Flannel pants and an oversized black hoodie, his hair disheveled and eyelids hooded from sleep.

You tore your gaze away and looked out the window toward the lively house that you had just emerged from. It was still flooded with people, and your thoughts drifted back to your now-ex-boyfriend, but you quickly shrugged them away. It all felt so far away now that you were here in the quiet with Calum. You could practically feel the concern radiating off of him, blanketing the air between the two of you.

“Bad night.” You waved him off, running your fingers through your frizzy hair. “Thanks for picking me up, though.”

Calum didn’t move. He kept the car in park, his eyes still boring into your side profile. “You - you can’t just do that, Y/N. You can’t just wake me up in the middle of the night after not speaking to me for years and not expect me to worry.”

You felt yourself getting sad again at the desperate tone of his voice. Calum was completely right - it wasn’t fair at all, not one bit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to explain. You didn’t want to even validate the fact that you had been cheated on. Your life that had been perfectly built up, sealed with happiness, was just damaged only slightly, but it was still enough to set you off.

“Please, Calum, just take me home.” You sighed impatiently.

You could see him shaking his head in your peripheral vision, mumbling something under his breath as he began to drive the car, except he was going in the wrong direction. Still, you said nothing about it. You just wanted silence.

But Calum wasn’t willing to give you that. “You’re so drunk.” He observed lowly, running his fingers over his jawline, at the tiny hint of stubble that was lingering on his chin. “How much did you even drink?”

“I’m fine now.” You mumbled wistfully, grimacing at his judgemental tone.

He glanced at you passively once more before looking at the road again, driving slowly through the local suburban streets, masked by the darkness of the night. It was past three in the morning now, and you could feel your eyelids drooping, but you knew you wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight. Your mind would betray you and keep you awake, surely.

“Can you just tell me if you’re hurt or something? Or if you got into any trouble?” Calum spoke up after another moment of quiet. He was practically sputtering, the words leaving from behind his teeth in fast precision.

You let your head rest back on the seat and rolled your eyes. It felt good to be near him again, there was no questioning that, but you were growing irritated by his inquisitions. You wanted a distraction, not the usual nosiness that you found in school on a daily basis.

So, finally, you snapped. “He fucking cheated on me, Calum. Is that what you needed to hear? He cheated on me.”

You looked over to see the surprised look on his face, how his eyes widened and his lips parted with shock. He hadn’t expected that, to say the least, but you didn’t think he would be so affected by your confession. He even pulled over on the road, in front of an old foreclosed house with an overgrown lawn, staring at you with pity, now. “Y/N, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t -”

“It’s fine.” You interrupted, your voice cold and detached. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to do anything.”

“Okay, that’s fine. That’s fine.” He muttered, blinking furiously. You stared at the way he grasped the steering wheel, his slender fingers curling around its curvature as the silence began to envelope the two of you once again. “But...why did you call me? Of all people?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, letting out an exaggerated breath. The darkness was disguising your discomfort, tricking you, making words fall to your tongue despite your earlier predisposition of deciding against speaking what was on your mind. And you knew Calum would ask this - he was always curious, it was in his nature, and you knew the answer. You had one prepared - a lie, a basic deceit, but now, while he was looking at you with a certain hopeful expression etched into his features, you wanted to speak the truth. It was bubbling inside of you, begging to be released, itching at your skin and fogging up your brain.

“I...I wanted a distraction.” You stuttered out, almost blurting the words, ridding them from your tongue. “We never talk anymore. We were friends growing up, you know? But now...you barely know anything about me.”

Calum’s lips turned upward at the corners, though you had no idea why. You were practically a mess, with makeup smudged down your face and your hair ratty from running your fingers through it. You could barely talk, your mouth was so dry, and despite your earlier denial, you were still drunk.

“You’re wrong.” Calum deadpanned.

“What?”

“You’re wrong,” he echoed. “I’m not some sort of stranger, Y/N. I know that you still hate vegetables and your bedroom walls are painted pink and your favorite movie is and always will be Lilo and Stitch. And I know that you aren’t much different from who you were when we were kids.”

You shook your head, letting out an empty chuckle. “Calum -”

“Just because we barely talk anymore doesn’t mean I don’t remember all of that about you.” He interrupted. His voice was quiet and nervous, his words hesitant as they left his lips. “I also know that your boyfriend is an asshole for cheating on you. And I’m glad you called me, of all people.”

You couldn’t find the words to speak anymore. You were staring at him in awe, unable to fathom that he could materialize everything he knew about you as a kid. And you could see it in his eyes - he understood you, despite the gap years of miscommunication, despite the fact that you thought him to be a stranger, he understood you. His gaze was dropping down your face, drinking in the sight of you, of your raw and honest look of sadness, and he just knew.

In that moment, you were good. You were finally able to silence the demons that were spiraling around in your head. It was only possible with Calum’s presence engulfing you, his scent noticeable in every inch of the air, sobering you. It was clean, you were understood, and you were good.

And when you leaned over the gearshift, placing your hand gently on Calum’s shoulder, your lips brushing over his in the ghost of a gesture, you had never felt more content in your life. You knew it wouldn’t last - he was your distraction, a diversion from the current distress that you felt, but somehow, you were still okay with that fact. There was something in his gaze and it was tasted on his tongue, the way it melted against yours in fluid, methodical motions, his hands snaking up your waist, resting on your back as he pulled you closer, closer.

Your fingers entangled themselves in his messy hair, feeling the strands as you tugged on them, noting the way that his lips parted with the sensation. You kissed him harder, wondering why you had never seen him in this light before. Calum was lovely in all ways: in his appearance and his words and the way that he looked at you the way no one else ever had. And suddenly, you thought yourself to be foolish for ever thinking that he could be a stranger who wouldn’t question you. Calum would always know you.

His hands were cupping your face, the pads of his thumbs brushing over the flushed skin on your cheeks in soothing, soft motions. You were surprised that he hadn’t pushed you away just yet. Calum was sensible. He had a good head on his shoulders, anyone knew that. But you supposed that maybe he was tossing aside his inhibitions because he, too knew tonight wasn’t ever going to last. In fact, you doubted that the two of you would speak again after this.

So you picked up the pace. You let him pull you over the console after he turned the keys in the ignition, shutting off the car. You swung your leg over so that you were sat in his lap, able to feel him more closely, to see him better. Even though it was dark, you could make out every detail of his face - how it had changed over the years, how his eyes stayed the same. How he was looking at you. And God, it was killing you, making your knees buckle from weakness, your stomach swarm with fleeting butterflies.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since we were seven.” Calum spoke after a moment of simply gazing at you, his hands still cradling your face gently. “I never thought it would be like this, though.”

You frowned. “Is it bad?”

“No, no,” he shook his head, his nature hesitant. “Just - don’t worry. You’re perfect. You’re fine, okay?”

You were confused by his words, by the subtle disappointment making an appearance in his features, but you ignored any doubts that began to surface in your mind. Instead of pressing him for a further explanation, you pulled him closer to you again, leaning down to connect your lips to his. The kiss was slower this time around, more delicate and deliberate as you tasted him, the familiar flavor of mint lingering on his teeth.

Calum’s palms slid from your cheeks, down your neck slowly, resting on your shoulders respectively. You got the feeling that he wasn’t sure of what exactly to do with his hands, so you took them in your own, placing them on your waist as you pulled away from him momentarily, eyes flashing open to meet his. “Don’t be nervous, Calum. It’s just me.”

“Not nervous,” he grumbled. “You’re drunk. I don’t want you to -”

“I won’t regret this.” You finished his sentence. “And I hope you won’t either.”

He swallowed thickly, gaze scanning your face. He was blatantly fighting an internal battle with himself, against his own morals and instincts, but it was so hard to do what was right when you were sat in his lap, your fingertips tracing the sharp angle of his jaw line, your lips swollen from his kisses. He had thought about this a lot - kissing you, touching you, feeling your skin. And regarding what he had said earlier...he thought it would happen because you genuinely wanted to do be with him. Not because you were sad, feeling rejected and looking for some sort of emotional out.

But as you leaned in again, your breaths mixing with his own, smelling strongly of vodka, he decided that he would take what he could get.

You felt his grip tighten on your waist just slightly, desperate to feel you without the interruption of your tight sweater. He tentatively hiked up the hem, sliding his hands beneath it, feeling the goosebumps that littered your skin, but his touch warmed you.

Your tongue glided across his bottom lip, your body still as you were perched in his lap. The space was cramped in the car, but you were thankful for it, how it increased your proximity to him. You were focused only on his scent and how it engulfed you completely, how you were lost in this little moment with Calum, worried about nothing but him anymore.

He broke away from you, his lips brushing against yours briefly before he let out a short breath. You could tell he wanted to say something, but he was quiet, only looking at you. His mouth curved into a soft smile as you reached up and combed your fingers through his dark hair, pushing it off of his forehead, entranced by the way he was completely allured by everything that you were doing.

You saw the way his eyes widened slightly when you leaned back, your fingers pulling at the hem of your sweater before you tugged it up and over your head. Calum’s hands were still stationed on your hips, gripping your plentiful flesh even more harshly as his stare raked over your chest, your breasts pushed up in the lacey bra that you had put on before you made the mistake of heading to the party.

“You can touch me, Cal.” You whispered lowly, encouragingly.

He was already one step ahead of you, though, his touch sliding up the curve of your waist until his fingertips skimmed over your ribcage. His bottom lip was between his teeth as he traced the outline of your bra, snapping the strap against your skin before his large hands were cupping your breasts, his breaths falling from his lips rapidly.

You then reached behind your back, seeing Calum’s face become illuminated by the headlights of a car passing on the opposite side of the road, though neither one of you cared enough to worry about being seen. He was already hypnotized by your fluid movements, watching as you unclasped your bra, letting it fall from your chest carelessly, tossing it to the passenger seat where your sweater had previously been ditched.

Goosebumps rose on your skin once more as the cold air hit you. Calum leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours in a heated kiss as his hands felt at your breasts, fingertips brushing over your nipples until they hardened from the sensation. He was utterly speechless, unable to formulate any words as he kissed you sporadically, pausing every now and then to gape at the way you looked before him.

He craned his neck forward again, though this time, he was dragging his lips over your jaw until they were level with your ear. “So pretty.” He mumbled. The way his voice sounded made you shiver as you snaked your hands around his frame, feeling the broadness of his back over the thick material of his sweatshirt.

His palms were still placed over your breasts as he kissed gently at your neck, the gesture lingering against your skin, making your mouth fall agape due to how subtle his movements were. He was so attentive, tenderly kissing your throat until he stopped just above your collarbone, sucking a hickey into your skin, teeth grazing over the blossoming bruise and tongue following suit.

And really, you never thought you would be in this position. Just a few hours ago you had a boyfriend who you thought was head over heels for you, but then you saw him with her and discovered that it was almost funny how fast things could change. There you were, now sat in Calum’s lap, the silence of his car bridged by the heavy breaths you expelled as he continued to kiss at your neck.

You wound your fingers through his hair and tugged again as you tilted your head, allowing him better access to your skin, feeling his hands all over. Your heart was racing from the sensation, how good it felt as Calum left hickeys in a jagged line down your throat. He was taking his time to memorize the way you felt beneath his lips, the way your back would arch just slightly when he would exhale a deep breath over the lovebites he left in his wake.

But you couldn’t help yourself. You wanted more. You wanted to feel him in the way that he was feeling you. You wanted to understand him in the way that he seemed to get you. You wanted to return whatever he was offering, to make him sense that same security that you were experiencing with his arms wrapped around your figure.

So you nudged him just gently, your fingers fumbling with holding onto the hem of his sweatshirt as you began to tug it up. Calum aided your motions, pulling it off before tossing it into the backseat, leaving him in a thin gray tank top that hugged his slender torso. You let your palms drag over his bare shoulders, traveling down the expanse of his arms, feeling the way his muscles tensed at the sensation. He was so warm.

You liked his body, the way that it harmonized with yours. If you moved, he moved. Everything fit together perfectly - so perfectly that you had trouble pinpointing the reason why you had ever left Calum in your past, abandoning him once high school started.

But it was difficult to think otherwise when he was looking at you with those eyes. Of course you were wondering how you were ever able to live without him - your mind was not in the right place, you were drunk, and you had just endured one of the worst nights of your life. Anything other than crying on the front steps of a stranger’s house seemed magnificent.

At least you told yourself that, just to justify your actions, to make yourself feel better about practically using the boy. And you weren’t unaware of the fact that he was gazing at you like he dreamed about this moment his entire life, because in actuality, Calum really had thought about having you like this - many times before. But it had never even crossed your mind until now, until he saw you and who you really were when you thought that no one could ever uncoil your twisted ends.

Your hands outreached toward his figure again as you removed his tank top, clutching it in your grasp before tossing it to the side along with your other clothing. His shirtless chest was almost glowing in the dark due to the bright moonlight that had emerged from behind thick clouds. You ran your touch over his pectoral muscles, down his abdomen, noting the way that it clenched as he held his breath, eyes boring into yours.

“Do you want me to touch you?” You questioned in undertone. Your voice was so quiet, sultry as you cocked an eyebrow in his direction, unable to compose yourself. You were past the point of overwhelmed by both your hormones and your emotions, but right then, you decided which facet was easier to focus on - the dampness between your thighs and the hunger that was erupting inside of you just by the sight of him.

Calum nodded eagerly, licking his lips as his hands retreated from your hips to the seat’s armrests beside him. He held them tightly as you continued to caress his naked skin, gauging his reaction to every miniscule move you made, every twist of your wrist and subtle scratch of your fingernails. He was so responsive, already squirming although you hadn’t done anything just yet.

You started by inching yourself backward, leaving a lingering kiss on his lips, though you could sense his distraction as his tongue rolled over yours languidly. He was already worked up by your question, and that thought was almost endearing.

You were still in his lap, your back against the car’s steering wheel as you blinked at him. Your head was light from the alcohol, but you were able to think coherently, to make sure that your movements weren’t too sloppy or disjointed. For some reason, you wanted this moment to be special - more special than it already was, even if you were denying that fact.

Your fingertips outlined the waistband of his flannel pants, your eyes observing the tent that had already formed there from when the two of you were kissing and touching and exploring. Calum was breathing heavily, watching as you began to pull at the pajama pants. He raised his lower half so that you could get them most of the way down his legs, so that you could see the black briefs that hugged his hips so nicely. His thighs were firm and muscular, smooth beneath your palms as you ran your palms up and down his skin, feeling him. His gaze continuously flickered from the movements of your hands up to your face, watching as you parted your lips and gaped at his body, at how beautiful the boy in front of you was.

Finally, you guided your touch upward, fingertips grazing over his erection that was straining against his boxers. You could make out every inch of him through the tight material, practically see him pulsing as you teased him, pressing the heel of your palm over his shaft, causing Calum to release a short whimper. You looked up at him once he made the sound, your movements unwavering as you watched the way his jaw went slack and his eyes screwed shut as the pleasurable feeling. He looked so good like this, with his cheeks flushed just gently, his stomach tensing, his biceps bulging.

“Feel good?” You asked, swallowing thickly. The vision of him already appearing so wrecked was enough to make your mouth dry, your insides churning with desperation.

Calum nodded. “So damn good.” He groaned out, his hips bucking up as you continued to touch him more deliberately, your fingers practically curling around his erection.

You almost smiled, nearly proud of yourself that you were able to make him feel like this and you hadn’t even gotten his boxers off yet. It went to show how much time Calum spent with members of the opposite sex. You knew he was a quiet kid - he always was, even when you two were children - but you never thought his luck with girls was that indecent.

You continued feeling him through his boxers, teasing him as you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his jaw, then one to the corner of his mouth. He barely noticed your gestures, his grip tightening on the armrests on each side of him, quiet whimpers repeatedly leaving his lips. You wanted to remember how those noises sounded as they filled the silence of the car, how pretty they were and how they encouraged you.

Finally, you dipped your hand beneath the waistband of his briefs, feeling his erection flush against your palm. He was so hard, virtually throbbing as you wrapped your fingers around his base, slowly grasping his length as you stroked him in sparing, slow motions. Your face was still level with his as you watched the way his brow furrowed, his bottom lip taken between his teeth before he released it, cursing under his breath.

“Open up your eyes, Cal,” you urged in a whisper. “Look at me, baby.”

He sucked in a short breath before blinking his eyes open, immediately meeting your gaze. There was a certain desperation pooling in his dark irises, and the notion was confirmed once he reached out and finally touched you, brushing your hair out of your face to tuck it behind your ear. You were almost flattered by the affectionate gesture, your movements halting completely as you stared at him. He cared about you, and it was apparent in every single move he made.

That fact almost made you pull away from him completely, almost made you put on all your clothes and call your brother to come pick you up at the side of the road. You and Calum were touching each other for two different reasons and it made you feel guilty.

But he distracted you, seeing the wistful expression form on your face instantly. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours, cupping your face, kissing you so intensely. He was silently letting you know that he didn’t want you to stop, so you didn’t. You kept touching him, kept thriving off of his quiet whimpers and attentive kisses, wondering how the hell you never noticed that this boy was so in love with you. Wondering why wasted your time on someone else when Calum was right there, remembering how you were as a child, coming out in the middle of the night to pick you up when you needed him again.

You felt horrible.

But still, you continued kissing him, swallowing back the lump in your throat for what felt like the thousandth time that night. You only pulled away to let Calum press his lips against your neck again, creating hickey after hickey, as if he was claiming you as his for just one night. You let him, you let him do whatever he wanted, because you liked the way it felt and because you felt bad for using him.

Finally, you pulled back for just a moment, attempting to detach your body from your brain. The whole reason you called Calum was so that you could stop thinking, so that you could be distracted. So you reminded yourself of that, pulling Calum’s boxers down his thighs all the way, noting the shiver that traveled down his spine and the way it made your stomach flip.

You were bent at an awkward angle before him, though the positioning didn’t bother either one of you. Your breaths were shallow in your chest as you kept your grip grasped around his base, your face lowering until you were able to kitten-lick his head, eyes flickering up to watch the way Calum threw his head back at the sensation. You wrapped your lips around his tip fully, sucking harshly until your cheeks were hollowed and his knuckles were turning white from holding onto the armrests so tightly.

You lowered your mouth on his length, feeling it flat on your tongue as you breathed through your nose. You tried to take as much of him as you could, your eyes watering until you screwed them shut to keep them from tearing up. You almost let a gag escape your throat before you pulled off just slightly, bobbing your head at a steady pace as your hand pumped what you couldn’t fit into your mouth.

“Fuck, baby.” Calum gritted out. The way the pet name fell from his tongue made your heart skip a beat, and when he extended his hand outward to entangle his fingers in your hair, you lowered yourself even more.

He was already sweating, a thin sheen blanketing his tanned skin. He held your hair out of your face, watching with parted lips as you hollowed your cheeks on his length, your free hand clutching his tensed thigh now. You tuned in only to the sounds he made, how he looked above you as you pleasured him, how you knew he was enjoying every minute of this, and you were, too.

But you pulled off after another moment, your hand absently stroking his length as you looked up at him, measuring out your breaths. There was an unspoken agreement that occurred when you locked eyes with him again - he wanted you, there was no questioning that, and you wanted him, too. So you straddled him again, your legs on either side of his as he pulled you in for another kiss, hands smoothing over your chest and landing on your waist once again. “You’re fuckin’ amazing.” He mumbled against your lips.

You only pulled away, feeling a small smile on your face - one that you couldn’t bother to even try and suppress. With every passing second, he was taking you away from the messy place that you had been in just an hour ago, completely hypnotizing you with every glance, every kiss, every touch. It wouldn’t last forever - you knew that when you climbed into his stupid minivan, but for now, it was enough.

Hesitantly, Calum’s fingers fumbled with the button of your jeans. It took a moment for you to realize that his hands were shaking, so gently, you nudged him away, pulling down the zipper and shimmying the denim down your thighs. “It’s just me.” You reminded him.

“And that’s exactly it,” Calum breathed out. “It’s you, and I lied before. I’m nervous.”

You laughed softly, grinning at him in the darkness of the car, running your fingers through his hair again as you observed the sheepish smile grow on his face. “I knew you were lying, Calum.”

His gaze dropped from yours, watching his own movements as he took your hands from his hair,

holding them in his own, squeezing your palms. “Can you just promise me something? Please?”

“Anything.” You nodded, beginning to grow worried.

“Just...promise me things will be different after this. That you won’t get back together with that douchebag boyfriend of yours. That we’ll be friends, maybe.”

Even though you knew how uncertain everything was, even though you really couldn’t promise the boy anything, even though you knew things wouldn’t be different at all, you looked Calum straight in the eye and lied. “I promise.”

And maybe you lied because you knew that he would’ve stopped everything and drove you home right then and there if he knew you weren’t planning on speaking to him ever again. Maybe you lied because you couldn’t possibly think of hurting the boy’s feelings. Maybe you lied because you knew that tomorrow, when this night was over and done with, you knew that your feelings for Calum couldn’t possibly measure up to his feelings for you.

So you lied, the words escaping from behind your teeth as you leaned forward and kissed him again, completely losing yourself in him, in your dishonesty and in the confusing place that your mental state seemed to be in. You lied, and you did it to protect him.

Calum’s kisses were ignited with passion after he believed your deceit. His tongue was tracing the outline of your bottom lips gently, his touch running up and down your bare body until he was breaking away from you to reach into his wallet that was tossed into the car’s console. He pulled out a single condom, his breathing ragged as he ripped open the foil, glancing at you before you inched away from him so that he could roll the latex over his length.

And time resumed again. You pressed your lips to Calum’s once more before raising your hips over him, your hand wrapped around his base as you lined his tip up with your entrance, lowering yourself onto his shaft until you were bottomed out, overwhelmed by the depth and the sensation of your walls constricting around his girth.

“Fuck,” Calum hissed out, teeth gritted and jaw clenched.

You were silent, though your mouth was agape and you wanted to cry out at the intensity of the feeling. Your fingernails dug into Calum’s shoulder as you lowered yourself again, and again, and again, developing a slow but pleasurable pace that was powerful enough to make you shake in euphoria. Your eyes were screwed shut, and still, you could feel Calum staring at you, watching the way your face contorted and scrunched up involuntarily.

“You look so good,” Calum murmured. “So good.”

The honesty in his tone made you blink your eyes open. Your proximity was so close, you could feel his breaths fanning over you in short pants, but you couldn’t bring yourself to lean in and kiss him again. You were too overwhelmed by the way your body fit together perfectly with his, how you were almost made to be with him like this.

Calum lifted his hands from your waist to curl around the nape of your neck as you continued to lower yourself up and down. Your thighs were already burning but the slight discomfort was overshadowed by the intense pleasure, how Calum’s tip brushed against your g-spot each time you bottomed out, how his palms moved down again as he squeezed your breasts, eyes watching the way you looked on top of him. He was so inundated by your appearance and by how he was feeling, all words disappearing from his head as he whimpered lowly, letting you take the reins.

And really, you were fine with that. You knew he was nervous and you knew what this moment mean to Calum. You were mesmerized by the way he was looking at you like you were the most beautiful girl in the world, and you were sure that he thought that, too. You were sure that he wanted to say it, that he wanted to shower you in compliments and tell you just how he was feeling, but his words were caught in his throat and he knew that you didn’t feel the same.

So nothing was said as you moved on top of him, the sound of skin on skin filling the air combined with the noises that Calum made, followed by the quiet moans that left your lips. You couldn’t help yourself - it felt too good, the mixture of the overbearing feeling in your stomach each time you sunk down onto his length and the way that his hands gravitated from your breasts down to your ass, kneading your skin and guiding your movements.

Finally, Calum spoke, though his words were minimal and his voice was wrecked. “Keep going, baby, just like that.”

And he was talking nonsense but the sound of his verbal encouragements were enough to spur you on, to get you moving even faster, your hands now flat on his chest as you bounced up and down. You could feel his heartbeat and how it was hammering, pounding. You knew your heartbeat was the exact same, maybe even faster.

Calum then began to meet your thrusts, raising his hips upward just slightly, but it was still enough to make you cry out in surprise and pleasure. You could feel yourself slowly starting to lose momentum, completely engulfed in the way that he was making you feel and how your body was reacting to it. You were shaking, trembling as Calum fucked up into you, hands holding your waist and keeping you steady, his bottom lip between his teeth in determination.

“I - Calum, fuck.” You stuttered out, unable to formulate a coherent sentence. Your mouth was dry and you were sweating, feeling a hot flash come on as you began to unravel, your body spasming as Calum’s movements continued relentlessly.

“Go on, pretty girl.” He groaned, and you knew that he was losing it too, overwhelmed by the feeling of your walls clenching around him as you came.

Calum’s hips stunted as he released into the condom, your body collapsing against his as you panted. He grunted, lips at your ear as his muscles tensed, his grip on your waist so tight that you presumed bruises would be left in his wake. You didn’t mind, it didn’t hurt, and the way that he looked at you afterward was the same way that he was looking at you before.

He understood. And for tonight, it was enough.

[gukyi]

start anew | ksj

⇒ summary: it’s been five years since you left your hometown, vowing never to return, but a simple invitation to a christmas party and a yearning to know whether or not you’re truly over the heartbreak you left behind has you wondering if, maybe, the christmas spirit and promise of a new beginning can change your mind.

⇒ christmas!au, exes!au

⇒ pairing: kim seokjin x female reader

⇒ word count: 11k

⇒ genre: soft angst and fluff (everything is just melancholy, alright?)

⇒ warnings: alcohol consumption

⇒ a/n: for @sonnenfuchs, from your secret santa!! here it is luce, i tried to make it as not angsty as possible but it looks like i didn’t try hard enough. this does have a happy ending though, if that’s any consolation!! merry (late) christmas and happy new year!! i wish u and the rest of the gc all the best ���

When the train pulls into the run-down station, cement littered with trash and paint on the walls chipping, you feel sick to your stomach.

The sight of this poor old thing, empty and dilapidated, leaves you nauseous as the train pulls in, screeching as it comes to a stop. You’re the only one getting off at this stop, one out of the four other people that are taking this sad little train on a journey to nowhere, stepping onto the platform with your suitcase by your side and vow echoing in your mind, one that swore you’d never return.

Looks like Christmas brings out the optimist in all of us.

Even though it’s been nearly five years since you’ve ever looked back, took that first step onto the midnight train going anywhere—to the airport, actually—on the path to a life that doesn’t leave you wallowing in sorrow, you remember this place like the back of your hand. Remember the way that the sign above your head shook when a train pulled into the station too quickly. Remember how the gate on the way out would get stuck sometimes, and would only take a hard kick to come loose.

You look down at the faded pink bench waiting on the platform, and you remember how he used to kiss you on that. How he used to press his fingers into your skin and his mouth onto yours as you kissed and kissed and kissed in the dim light of an empty train station in the early hours of the morning. Remember how you would hop onto any train that came by, together, letting it take you wherever the wind blows. Remember how he would press you into the dirty wall of the train station, whispering sweet nothings into your ear and your cheek and your neck, promises in the form of hickeys on your collarbones.

People always ask you why you left, but the thing is that he did first.

You give a soft kick to the gate on your way out, feeling it dislodge beneath the toe of your boot as you press it open. It’s nearly ten at night. The roads that surround you are quiet, cars whizzing by every once in awhile, headlights flickering in the darkness. No taxis in this town.

Pulling out your phone, only then are you reminded of the shitty cell service in the area, the bars on your phone phasing in and out of existence as you try to scrounge up enough reception to make a call. With enough effort (it seems as though you still know all of the tricks to getting service in this town), your phone musters up two measly bars. You press call.

“Y/N?”

“Yoongi?” You breathe out into the phone, feeling this foreign sense of comfort at the sound of your once-best friend’s voice. It’s been too long, but at the same time, it hasn’t been long enough.

“Why are you calling me? Did your train just pull in?” He asks, and his voice is groggy and soft, almost too quiet for you to be able to hear him. If it weren’t for the deafening silence that surrounds you, you probably wouldn’t even be able to make him out.

“Yeah,” you answer, and you wonder if this sad chatter warrants you asking him a favor. Even if you were best friends once, back when you found joy in being holed up in this small town with people you loved (not anymore), you haven’t spoken in five years. Things have changed. So have you. “Could—could you come and pick me up? You know where.”

“Aw, Y/N, I would, but I don’t have a car with me. My buddy Namjoon borrowed it for the weekend. You remember Namjoon, right? Lanky kid from college. I can send him to pick you up, if that’s alright?” Yoongi says into the phone, and there’s so many memories laced in the words that leave his lips. Memories of you and him taking his beat-up Cadillac for a midnight drive to McDonald’s, nearly crashing it into the lake at the local park after you took a wrong turn. Memories from the college years you spent in this little town, at the local university that deserves a lot more credit than it’s given. Memories of Namjoon and Yoongi and you and him, together as friends.

“No, that’s okay. I don’t want to be an inconvenience for anybody,” you say, swiftly declining the offer as you put others’ needs over your own. How typical of you. Guess some things will never change, no matter how much you want them to.

“Are you kidding? I know for a fact he only goes to sleep at three in the morning. Here, I’m gonna text him,” Yoongi says, and you know him well enough, even after five years, to know that once he says he’ll do something, he’ll do it.

“Yoongi, you really don’t have to—”

“Done. He’ll be there in ten,” Yoongi says happily. “Don’t worry about inconveniencing us, Y/N. We all want you back.”

Not all of you do, you think to yourself bitterly.

“Thanks, Yoongi. Sorry for calling you so late at night,” you say, unable to stop the apology from spilling from your lips. You already know Yoongi’s going to berate you for it.

“Stop apologizing, Y/N. You know I don’t mind. I was awake, anyway. What, did you think that after college, I turned my life around and started to go to bed at reasonable hours?” Yoongi jokes, making a smile force its way onto your lips, even if only a little. Always the jester. “Wow, you really don’t know me.”

“Yoongi, I—”

“I’m glad you’re back, Y/N. I really am,” Yoongi tells you, voice a hushed whisper. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Yoongi,” you finally admit, letting the words tumble out. If nothing else, you always regretted leaving him when you took that step onto the metal flooring of the train. He was the one person worth staying for.

“See you, hey? Don’t forget about me,” Yoongi says, and it’s a promise you know you’ll end up keeping, one of only a few. With that, he hangs up, leaving you standing in the silence, letting the crickets soothe your racing mind and aching heart.

There’s not a twig in this town that hasn’t been tainted with the memory of him.

A car pulls up in front of you after another five minutes of you contemplating to yourself, wondering why on Earth you came back after you swore you never would, wondering what could possibly have drawn you here yet again. It certainly isn’t him.

The window of Yoongi’s Cadillac rolls down, and in the hazy light of the street lamp above your head, you make out the grinning, albeit tired, face of Kim Namjoon. He still looks the same, only, he’s dyed his hair. It looks nice on him.

“Y/N? Is that really you?” Namjoon says, leaning his head out of the window as he squints. “Damn, I almost didn’t recognize you. You look so different.”

“Hey, Namjoon,” you say sheepishly.

“Long time no see. Hey, jump in! Yoongi sent me to come and fetch you, so your honored and esteemed chauffeur waits for you,” Namjoon says, tipping his head to emulate a full-body bow as he points to the backseat.

You wheel yourself and your baggage up to the car, and Namjoon, ever the gentleman, hops out of the car to help you stuff your single suitcase into Yoongi’s ridiculously small boot. You’d always teased him for having such a tiny storage space. Told him he’d be a shitty murderer since he wouldn’t be able to hide a body in the back of his car.

You climb into the passenger seat of Yoongi’s car, and everything feels uncomfortably familiar. You had always dreaded returning, promising to yourself that you never would, for that feeling of nostalgia crawling up your skin is simply too taxing on you. The dice that hang from Yoongi’s front mirror haven’t changed, though they’re definitely a bit browner than they used to be. His seats are the same level of worn, feel loved and familiar under your fingertips as you run them across the leather. One look in the backseat and you can still make out the stain from when Yoongi decided to drink five bottles of RedBull in one sitting, spot the missing lever in the backseat that prevents the back right window from being rolled down. One look in the backseat and images flash across your mind, images of the two of you giggling as you secretly made love in the backseat of his car, images of you falling asleep on his shoulder during one of your many road trips.

“Been a while, hey?” Namjoon asks, breaking the silence and catching your attention. “Where do you want me to drop you off? Your parents live around here, don’t they…?”

“Not my parents’. I don’t want to bother them,” you say quickly. “Yoongi’s, if that’s alright.”

“Fine and dandy by me,” Namjoon says. He gives your shoulder a nudge, warm smile on his face. “Hey, cheer up a bit, will you? You’re back, it’s nearly Christmas, and everyone’s feeling festive as fuck. No need to be all sad and mopey, alright?”

You muster up a tense smile at his words just to get him to politely shut up, not wanting to hear another word about you being back. You’re well aware that you’re here.

“It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen you, you know,” Namjoon says. “Not since you graduated and flew off to God-knows-where. Bet you’re making millions now, hey? CEO of some high-tech company that I’ve never heard of.”

You chuckle, appreciative of the effort Namjoon is making to keep you engaged. This mindless chatter thing, it’s kind of nice. A bit redundant, but nice. “I wish.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re doing much better than you’re letting on. I mean, you left, and we’re all still stuck here, working menial jobs as we live our everyday lives. Did college disappoint you that much?”

“No,” you say, answers short and quick. Namjoon can be the one doing all of the talking. That, you’re fine with.

“I should hope so. God, those were the best years of my damn life. We had so much fun. I still remember that time that you and Yoongi played beer-pong half-naked at that one party. That was so hilarious. The two of you kept complaining about how the splash from the ball was getting you guys all wet,” Namjoon reminisces, laughing at the memory. “Man, Seokjin was livid when he saw the two of you doing that together. Nearly flipped the whole damn table over.”

The mention of his name renders you speechless as a terrible taste enters your mouth, one your tongue can’t get rid of. You’ve done so well at repressing the memories of him, tainted with love and loss, but all it takes is one mention from Namjoon’s big mouth to have them all coming back up again, like vomit.

Your knee-jerk reaction to the sound of his name as the picture of Seokjin in all of his glory flashes through your mind is to cough. Violently, too. Namjoon immediately slows down as he pats your back through your dry-heaving.

“Whoa, you okay? Don’t die on me now, you just got here. What will Yoongi say if I arrive at his house with your dead body?” Namjoon asks, alarmed. “Was it something I said?”

You shake your head furiously, still recovering, not wanting him to think it was his fault. It’s yours, really. Yours for coming back. Yours for not knowing what to do when you did. Yours for thinking about him when you know he’s not thinking about you. Not anymore.

“It wasn’t you, no. Just… some spit went down the wrong tube, that’s all,” you lie.

“Man, I hate when shit like that happens,” Namjoon says, shaking his head. “It’s such a pain. I feel like I’m dying when really, my body’s just playing a mean prank on me.”

You chuckle helplessly, unable to respond as thoughts of him plague your mind. God, what’s wrong with you? Why are you still thinking about him? It’s been five years, five years of repressed memories and vows that you would never make the same mistakes. Five years of a new life, new friends, new home, one where you don’t have to dwell on the past, where you can finally start living in the moment.

But being back here, it’s like living in the past. It’s like being trapped in a world you no longer control. You used to rule everything here, crown on your head and him by your side, but now, you’re just a bystander.

You never saw Yoongi’s house before you left. He had an apartment all throughout university, right near campus, one that you knew like the back of your hand from how often you were over there. But then you graduated, packed your bags and never looked back, and you never got to see Yoongi’s house. He was so proud of it, too, when he scored a lease right after commencement. Told you all about it. You remember him being particularly excited about finally being allowed a pet. Kid’s wanted a dog all of his life.

Even in the darkness, Yoongi’s house emanates an aura that closely resembles the person residing within it. It’s a small building, fake black shutters on the sides of each of the white-rimmed windows. Small, a little lopsided, but it looks more like a home than a house, even from the outside. Yoongi’s done well. You know he has, because even though this house isn’t the biggest, isn’t the most expensive, it’s pretty and quaint and cozy, all things that a house should be. That a home should be.

“You’ve reached your destination,” Namjoon says in his best automated-female-robot voice, breaking as he reaches Yoongi’s driveway. “Here we are. Nerd Central, as I like to call it.”

You allow yourself to chuckle at Namjoon’s words as you get out, the outside lights your only source of illumination as you make your way to the back of the car, where your lone suitcase is. Namjoon gets out too, just to help you yank it out of the tiny boot of the car.

“Wish I could stay with you guys, but you know what they say. Three’s a crowd. Also, I have a dog at home that needs feeding. So, gotta blast,” Namjoon says as he bids you not a goodbye, but a see you later, instead. “You’re hanging around for Hoseok’s Christmas party, right? I’m sure we’ll see each other before then, but just in case, I’ll see you there, too.”

Namjoon sends you a warm smile as you tentatively approach Yoongi’s front door. Once he sees you taking that first step, he’s revving up the engine of that beat-up Cadillac and zooming off into the night.

You raise your fist to the wood, letting it hover in front of the door. You pause. What if Yoongi’s asleep? He didn’t know that you were going to show up at his front door, lost and dazed. Maybe, he doesn’t want you here. That’s fine. You don’t want to be here either. You’re a phone call away from calling a lonely Uber and going back to the city, where you think you belong. You don’t need to be here. Why should you?

But then, before you can panic and run, all of the lights inside turn on, and the door opens.

“Y/N?” Yoongi asks when he sees you, but it’s not in disappointment at your sudden arrival. He looks surprised. Almost happy.

“Hey,” you reply, sheepish. “Sorry I didn’t warn you beforehand that I would show up at your door. I just didn’t want to bother my parents this late at night and I had nowhere else to go—”

Yoongi says nothing, just envelopes you into this bone-crushing hug that lets the warmth of his body seep into yours. It’s been too long since you’ve hugged somebody like this. Too long since you’ve seen Yoongi, relished in the company that you treasured for years on end. You almost thought you might have forgotten him.

“I missed you,” Yoongi breathes into your skin before he lets you go. “Never apologize for being here. Ever.”

“I just—I don’t want to intrude—”

“You’ll never be an intruder in my life, Y/N. You’re family,” Yoongi promises as he looks you dead in the eyes, hands firmly planted on your shoulders. “I’ll never be bothered by you.”

You force out a smile—the only thing you can do under Yoongi’s piercing gaze, full of love and concern. “I’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow, I promise. I can stay with my parents.”

Yoongi shakes his head, tugging you inside, suitcase skipping on the doorframe. “You can stay here for as long as you like, Y/N. I got room.”

Breathing out a sigh of relief, you send Yoongi a thankful smile as you take in the sight of his home. Just like you thought, it’s cozy, reeking of Yoongi’s ever-constant presence. The beige paint on the walls is chipping away at the corners, and his rug is covered in what you assume to be dog fur, judging by the sleeping creature taking up residence on Yoongi’s sofa as you pass by the living room. You never met Yoongi’s dog before you left.

“Don’t worry about Holly,” Yoongi says casually when he notices how she catches your eye. “She’ll go right back to sleep if you wake her up because she’s lazy as hell.”

“She reminds me of you,” you muse thoughtfully, making Yoongi chuckle. It’s always so uncanny, how dogs and their owners mirror each other’s personalities without them even trying. The dog picks you, not the other way around.

Yoongi brings you into his kitchen, recently renovated (the stainless steel oven glows in the fluorescence of the light above your heads, and everything just smells new), marching over to his fridge and whipping out a Cherry Coke. Old habits die hard, and Min Yoongi stocks up on so many Cherry Cokes that his dentist is probably crying themselves to sleep.

“Want? I remember you used to love these, back in the day,” Yoongi asks, shaking the can slightly as he offers it to you.

You started liking them because of Yoongi, in school. He discovered them one day in the vending machine outside of the building and instantly fell in love, easily wasting away dozens of dollars just to grab a can before class. And then suddenly, he had everyone hooked on them by college. Everyone who stayed, at least. You would dare each other to shake up the cans vigorously before drinking them, drop Mentos into the bottles and watch them explode. Seokjin used to order them for you at the local 50’s themed diner, ask for two straws so you could share the beverage over the booth.

Isn’t it strange how the smallest things can bring back the biggest memories?

Isn’t it strange how even if you leave, you’re never really gone, and how even if you forget, you’ll always end up remembering?

Dwelling on the past holds you back from seeing the future, but seeing the future makes you want to stay in the past.

“Sure,” you say, nodding as Yoongi holds it out for you, grabbing himself one while you take the can from his hand. Before opening it up, you tap on the top with your nail, three times in quick succession.

“You still do that? God, you’re weird,” Yoongi says when he notices, shaking his head fondly as he leads you to the living room and sits down on the couch, you following his actions. “I swear, you’re like the only person on Earth who taps their soda can before opening it. Actually, you and Seokjin both—”

And then Yoongi pauses as he looks up at you, apology written all over his face as he realizes what words just left his mouth. You see how his eyebrows drops, concern and regret washing over his face like a tidal wave as his lips part, unable to speak.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says, a hand resting on top of yours as you shake your head. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine, Yoongi,” you promise, the mention of his name less like a stab wound to the heart and more like a pinprick. Not enough to make you bleed, but just enough to let the pain reenter. “I’m over it, I swear.”

You’re a liar. You know that much.

“I’m going to have to see him here anyway, aren’t I?” You continue helpfully, not wanting your best friend to feel too bad about a slip of the tongue. “No point in trying to avoid it.”

“But I know that it’s still a sensitive topic, Y/N,” Yoongi says, and goddamn him for being your best friend, because it’s so easy for him to see right through you. “If it wasn’t, you’d have come back sooner.”

“I’m getting better,” you insist. It’s a lie, and you and Yoongi both know it. If you really were getting better, then why couldn’t you let it go? You haven’t forgiven yourself yet, and you haven’t forgotten him, either.

Just then, the creature between your bodies stirs, and a small dog lifts her head up in wonder and confusion. Through her hazy eyes, she meets yours, tilts her head, unable to recognize the face in front of her, and goes right back to sleep.

“Holly!” Yoongi says, but she doesn’t budge. “Holly!” He calls again. “Oh, fuck it, she won’t wake up. Here, you finished with that?” He motions to your Coke can, now empty. “Cool. I can take it and show you up to your room.”

Yoongi snatches it from your hand before you can protest him doing everything for you, tossing it casually into the trash can in his hallway (the high school basketball skills never left him, it seems) before leading you up his creaking stairs.

When you set foot on his second floor, it occurs to you how much you don’t know about him anymore.

Min Yoongi is a music producer, but you only figure that out now, after a quick peek into the office beside his bedroom. Littered along the walls inside are old vinyls, hot pink Post-Its with reminders and lyrics and chords. Three keyboards, at least, and an impressive display of some hefty desktops. Min Yoongi always liked music, but he studied business in university. You never knew what he dreamed of doing.

“That? Oh, it’s a fuckin’ mess in there,” Yoongi says, grimacing. “I really need to clean it up one of these days.”

“Is this what you do?” You ask, in awe.

“Yeah,” Yoongi shrugs. “It’s kind of nice, actually. Real cozy, and I get to work from home and it keeps my financially stable. Still in debt though, hashtag college.”

You laugh to yourself as Yoongi drags you out of what is easily your favorite room in the house, shows you to his single guest bedroom. It’s drab but comfortable, and easily more than what you could ever ask for.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you say as he leaves you to it, bidding you goodnight. “For all of this.”

Yoongi meets your eyes and you’ve never been too good at reading through the haze in his own, but you can make out the love he holds in his heart for you, the appreciation for the friendship that never left his side. He nods softly, so faintly that you almost can’t make it out, before closing the door behind him.

Maybe this trip won’t be so bad after all.

The first thing that you do on your first official day back is go grocery shopping. Yoongi wrangles you out of bed surprisingly early for a guy who used to sleep right until his 2PM classes in college with little to no effort. He stands over your bed, tired eyes blinking away the sleep left in them as he comes into focus.

“What, did you think you’d just get to dissociate and stay holed up in my guest room?” Is the first thing he asks you, hands on his hips as he looks down at you. “Come on, lazy. I need to go grocery shopping and get some sort of host gift for Hoseok, since that’s a thing that you’re supposed to do when you go to a party.”

You groan, wrenching the covers from where they’re tucked in at the foot of the bed just so you can hide under them, shield your face from Yoongi’s leering gaze. Five more minutes, you mentally beg. Being back requires a lot of energy to face the horrors that each day brings forth.

You hear Yoongi’s footsteps as they get farther and farther away from you. “I’m leaving in thirty and I’m taking you with me, whether you like it or not. No makeup necessary. We’re going to the supermarket.” With that, the door slams shut, and you roll over onto your back and sigh.

Thirty minutes later you’re trudging outside and waiting on the step of Yoongi’s front porch as he bickers with Namjoon to get his car back. You don’t understand why you can’t just go grocery shopping later.

Eventually, Namjoon shows up outside Yoongi’s door in that poor old Cadillac, and Yoongi’s tugging on your arm to get you to stand up so you can actually start going places instead of lounging in the hermitage that is Yoongi’s house.

“Knew we’d see each other again, Y/N,” Namjoon says happily as you climb into the backseat of the car. “Are you guys dropping me back off at home first or do I get to third-wheel your platonic get-together?”

“I’m gonna drop you off at the curb and you can walk home, fucker,” Yoongi says, and Namjoon just laughs. He knows Yoongi too well. Yoongi’d never do that to him.

You end up swinging by Namjoon’s little flat in the center of town, dropping him off right outside the lobby with a goodbye and a “see you at Hoseok’s party tomorrow!” He waves happily as you drive off, and you realize that it’s been a while since you’ve seen people so full of love and light in this town. It’s been a while since you believed there was any of that in this place.

The grocery store is the same one that was there five years ago, down to the flickering sign that they never bothered to replace. It smells the same, reeks of cigarette smoke and metal, and it’s the strangest scent that feels like home thus far. You never thought this lone, run-down supermarket would mean so much to you. It’s decently packed, unsurprisingly so since it’s so close to the holidays—even people in this small little town have shit to do before Christmas is upon them. You manage to snatch the last small-sized grocery cart from the rack and wheel it back to Yoongi, who grins as he drops a full carton of apple cider into it, snagged from the display shelf in the entrance.

“You want anything while we’re here, Y/N?” Yoongi asks as you wheel into the store.

“No thank you,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m only going to be here for a few days—no point in buying me anything nice.”

Yoongi chuckles. “That’s exactly the point, you dumbass. You’re here and staying with me and as your proud best friend-slash-host, I feel morally obligated to buy you some nice things while we’re here. You can’t say no. That’s not allowed.”

“But I don’t want you to waste your money on anything for me,” you insist. Yoongi’s hardly paying attention to you, too busy inspecting a box of clementines. He shrugs and drops the entire thing into the cart.

“It’s not a waste if it’s on you,” Yoongi says, not even meeting your pleading eyes. “Come on, man,” he nudges your shoulder, “don’t you miss those shitty store-brand fake Doritos that taste like spray cheese on a corn chip? I know you do.”

Before you can protest, Yoongi’s tugging you and the cart towards the chips aisle and grabbing a family-size packet of those generic cheese chips that taste like cardboard and Cheetos. He cuts off all your indignant cries without any qualms, insisting that he can spare some spare change worth of shitty chips. If you won’t accept anything else from him, you’re forced to accept this.

You suppose it isn’t that bad that he’s buying you some of the chips that you lived off of during your college years, reaching down into the cart and opening the packet, allowing yourself to indulge in a few. Eating these chips is like eating garbage, but it’s garbage that’s strangely addicting. You don’t want to know what kinds of drugs are in these chips. Ignorance is bliss.

You and Yoongi parade around the grocery store happily as you finally learn what it’s like to let loose again, the tension from being back in the one place you swore you’d never return to leaving your shoulders. Being back here is finally starting to remind you of the good times rather than the bad ones, memories of you running down the aisles at midnight with your futures bright and your eyes brighter.

There’s not a place in this town that doesn’t remind you of him but that’s okay, because the memories you have of you and him together are better kept as dreams than nightmares.

“Which holiday cake says ‘Thanks for hosting this party even though we all drew straws and yours was the shortest so you had no choice’ best?” Yoongi asks when the two of you are staring over the mildly-refrigerated display of desserts and pastries. You had told Yoongi that cakes were foolproof host gifts, so here you are.

“You drew straws?” You ask in confusion. “I thought you guys liked hosting holiday parties.”

“We did,” Yoongi admits. “But that was before you left. You made hosting the holiday parties so easy, helping us with all of the invitations and decorations and planning. But then you left, and all of us realized that we didn’t really know how to uphold the tradition without you.”

Yoongi’s words leave you in a stunned silence as they sink in. When you left, you thought that you were doing everyone a favor. When you left, you didn’t think anyone would want you to stay, other than Yoongi and your parents, really. You thought that leaving would be best for you, for Seokjin, and for everyone else. You didn’t see a point in staying.

You didn’t realize that they would miss you.

You don’t realize that they miss you until you come back and they tell you that they do.

“Oh,” you say, speechless. “I didn’t think that you guys would miss me like that.”

“Y/N?”

You thought you’d be prepared to face him. You really did, because you wouldn’t have come back if you thought you weren’t. But when you make eye contact, meet his fluttering brown irises, and realize that even though your mind told you it was ready, your heart knows that it isn’t, and your heart knows better than anything else. Even the sound of his voice is enough to have sirens blare in your brain as the memories come flooding back.

He looks good. That might be the one of the worst parts of this whole thing, how fucking good he looks and how much of a mess you are in comparison. Seokjin is wearing a suit that fits him impossibly well, navy blue tailored in all of the right places, a red tie around his neck that compliments his skin tone impeccably well. It doesn’t look like he’s missed you a single bit, not from the way he holds his head high and radiates confidence.

You, on the other hand, are makeup-less, wearing the slouchiest clothes you packed—you thought you were just going grocery shopping, for fuck’s sake—and, quite frankly, look awful. You know you do. The past five years haven’t been kind to you, and it shows, from your slightly crooked haircut to the bags under your eyes.

It’s evident to see how much of a toll your relationship (or lack thereof) has taken on the both of you.

“How about this chocolate one, Y/N?” Yoongi’s voice interrupts your whirring brain. “Y/N?” His words trail off when he sees who’s in front of you.

“Seokjin?” You ask, as if your eyes are deceiving you, like he’s not really there, in all of his glory.

He looks just as beautiful as the day he left you. And that’s the worst part.

“When did—when did—you came back?” Seokjin says, unable to form much of a coherent sentence as the sight of you registers.

“Believe me, I didn’t think I would either,” you joke, unsure on how to break the block of ice that’s formed between the two of you.

“I just…” Seokjin says, trailing off. “I didn’t know you were coming back.”

“You don’t know a lot of things about me, Seokjin,” you say, and sure, it’s bitter and petty and biting, but it’s the truth. Seokjin deserves to take at least some of the blame for how you’ve been moping about for the past five years. It’s only fair.

Clearly, your words catch Seokjin off guard. His mouth parts to say something but nothing can come out, and the sight makes you feel a little bolder.

“I—”

“Y/N? Is everything okay?” Yoongi asks, coming up behind you with a frozen chocolate cake in hand. Seokjin’s bright expression immediately dims when he sees him approaching, standing next to you protectively. “Oh, hey, Seokjin.”

“Hey, Yoongi. Are the two of you—?”

“I invited Y/N back for Hoseok’s Christmas party, but I didn’t think she’d actually come,” Yoongi jokes, earning an indignant nudge in his shoulder from your elbow.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Seokjin comments mindlessly, words stiff. “I didn’t know that you had invited her.”

“I know.” Yoongi nods.

“Oh,” Seokjin says, taken aback by Yoongi’s bluntness. You’ve always loved that about him. “Well, it’s nice to have you back, Y/N. Are you—”

“We’re staying together,” you say, knowing fully well that it’ll tick Seokjin off even though he has no right to be pissed. “If that’s what you wanted to know.”

Seokjin’s entire body stiffens. “Okay, then. I’ll see you both at Hoseok’s party tomorrow night, then?”

“Looking forward to it,” Yoongi says, nodding his head. Seokjin sends the two of you a tight smile, grin forced, before turning around and walking the other way.

You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in when he’s out of sight, sighing deeply as you mentally calm your racing heart. No matter how long it will be, it will always be too soon to see him again.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Yoongi asks, voice laced with concern as he carefully places the cake in the cart, his other hand resting soothingly on your shoulder. “I didn’t know he’d be here. I’m sorry.”

“I’m okay,” you respond. “Thanks for talking to him for me.”

“You know I’d do anything for you,” Yoongi promises. “But I’m glad you’re feeling alright. It’s good practice for tomorrow, since you’ll have to see him there anyway.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Yoongi,” you assure him. “I’m not a snowflake. I won’t melt under his touch.”

“I know,” Yoongi says, sighing. “I just don’t want him to break your heart again.”

The last time you went to a Christmas party hosted by one of your friends, you were a senior in college, on your way to getting your fucking Bachelor’s, and a little bit drunk off of a couple of beers you had had prior to arriving. Being mildly buzzed is really the only way to show up to a Christmas party, when you think about it.

This time, there’s no alcohol in your system, though you may as well chug a glass of wine or two anyway with all of the jitters running through your body. You could do with something ease your worries.

You don’t know why you’re so nervous. You really don’t. You’ve been psyching yourself up for this single event ever since you hit ‘Checkout’ on the airline website, confirming your plane ticket. This Christmas party is, essentially, the only reason why you’re back. A chance to briefly reconnect with everyone before flying off to the city you now come home, unable to tolerate being here any more than you absolutely have to.

The mere thought of having to face Seokjin again makes you want to stay at home.

But you’ll never get over it if you can’t learn to deal with it, and you’ll never learn to deal with it if you can’t will yourself to. Fear is but a word, and you are but a girl.

So, you pull your makeup out of your single suitcase, put on your nicest dress, and decide that maybe, if all goes well, you’ll be able to go back to your anonymous city life in peace. You’ll be able to leave this all behind without the regrets you left after you moved, find peace in new beginnings outside of the town that’s caged you in.

“Ready to go?” Yoongi asks as he knocks on the doorframe of his guest bedroom, alerting you of his presence. You look up, mascara finished on only one eye, and see him standing happily outside your room in what is the ugliest Christmas sweater you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Oh, right. You forgot that these parties involved a running tradition of ugly Christmas sweaters.

You got rid of all of yours when you left.

“Clearly not,” Yoongi comments to himself, answering his own question as you raise a brow in objection. “You actually look nice. The fuck?”

“Am I not allowed to look nice for a Christmas party?” You cry as you apply the rest of your mascara, trying not to blink so you don’t go smudging it everywhere.

“No,” Yoongi says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Jesus, it’s been five years and already you forget what is easily the most important tradition of our annual Christmas bashes? Leaving really did change you.”

You pout in protest to your words, setting your makeup aside and standing up. You dust off your dress just to make a show of how nice you look. Yoongi rolls his eyes in what can only be interpreted as an absolute fondness, shaking his head as he taps his fingers on your doorframe on his way downstairs. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, and for a second, you think you might actually look like you belong here.

---

“Move out the way, people! Please get out of my way! I have a delicacy in my hand!” Yoongi shrieks as he walks into Hoseok’s house, making periodic beeping noises, just in case he needs to alert anyone further of his presence. He’s carrying the store-bought cake in both hands and treating it like it’s the world’s most precious diamond. In a way, shitty, high-calorie store-bought cake kind of is.

The first thing that you hear when you step inside behind Yoongi, not wanting to prevent him from getting the cake in his hands to its designated spot, is Hoseok’s boisterous laugh. It’s been five years but even you can’t forget the sound of it ringing through your ears like jingle bells. He must be on the floor at the sight of Yoongi in all of his glory, parading through his house with a cake in his hands, ugly Christmas sweater and Santa hat proudly on. You’d be laughing, too.

It’s so strange, being back. It feels like something of an out-of-body experience, where you’re watching everything happen but can’t picture yourself in the scenario. Like you’re watching a movie play out right before your eyes, only you’re one of extras. In books, they always talk about time freezing but the two main characters continue on, kissing and all of that nonsense as the world stops for them. But when you’re here, and you’re standing in the middle of Hoseok’s living room, surrounded by people who don’t have nearly as many regrets as you do, it feels like you’re the frozen one. Like you’re stuck in this awful suspended animation as everything around you keeps going, as the world turns but leaves you behind.

“Y/N!” Hoseok shouts, breaking you out of your trance. “Is that really you? My God, you haven’t changed a bit!”

Seeing Hoseok may very well be the most refreshing breath of air you’ve taken this entire trip. You only have good memories with him, thoughts of only laughter and light when you think back to university with him. Hoseok was the one person you knew you’d end up missing when you left.

“Hey, Hoseok,” you say, though you doubt he hears you over the sound of terrible karaoke to Mariah Carey on his television and the crushing of your bones as he envelopes you in a hug. “It’s been a while.”

“What?” Hoseok shouts.

“It’s been a while!” You repeat yourself, a little louder. It looks like you’ll be doing that a lot this evening.

“Sure has!” Hoseok says, swishing the glass of champagne in his hand. “Wow, adult life is really treating you well! You’ve never looked better, you know!”

“Thanks! You look nice, too!” You reply back, already getting tired of shouting.

“I know! Hey, where’s your ugly Christmas sweater? Come on, you invented that tradition!” Hoseok asks, nudging you when he finally takes in your outfit of the night.

You shrug helplessly, unable to produce a good enough excuse for your attire. You’re about to make something up when Hoseok bids you goodbye, trampling off to someone else.

Turning the corner, you enter Hoseok’s crowded kitchen, filled with people you recognize and people you don’t as they help themselves to the monster of a buffet Hoseok has on his counter. It looks like you could probably have a three-course meal just from picking one thing from each plate, but suddenly your appetite is gone and all you feel is a craving for something to drink.

Some alcohol could really do you good, you think as you help yourself to a beer. You have the slightest feeling that you might need to loosen up for tonight, just so you can survive. You don’t remember these parties being this overwhelming, but then again, being back has never been that overwhelming either. Not until now.

With a full bottle of beer in your stomach, you feel a little better. A little safer, really, knowing that now you can blame the words that leave your mouth on the alcohol rather than on you.

Seokjin’s here, somewhere, but you haven’t seen him yet and if you get lucky, you won’t have to see him at all. You’ll distract yourself with mindless chatter, hide in Hoseok’s bathroom until he leaves. If you’re lucky, he’ll swing in and out of this party in an hour or so, busy with some business thing he’s probably keeping himself occupied with. If you’re lucky, you’ll come to this Christmas party, celebrate with your old friends, and leave with no intent on returning. If you’re lucky, all will go as planned.

Somehow, someway, Namjoon manages to convince you to join in on an awful cover of something by Michael Bublé—you can’t really make out much over the sound of everyone else’s screaming, or maybe it’s all just noise from your unyielding mind—on Hoseok’s karaoke machine with some guy named Jungkook. You’ve never met him before, but he seems nice enough and clearly enjoys giving it all to Christmas-flavored karaoke. They sing at the top of their lungs and you hide behind their booming voices, loud enough for them to hear you but nobody else.

It may as well be the most fun you’ve had in a long while, terrifyingly so. Having fun is fine, but ever since you left, you’ve developed a fear of attachment. A fear of commitment, to a person, to a place, to a thing. With fun comes memories, and with memories comes a promise to stay. And that’s a promise you don’t think you can keep.

A clearly drunk Yoongi wraps his arm around you halfway through the night, when it may as well already be Christmas Eve with how late it’s getting. He’s swinging an empty wine glass in his hand and has a loopy smile on his face, one you’re far too familiar with to think that it could be anything else but the face of pure haziness. He turns his head to look at you, eyes crinkling up in delight.

“Enjoying yourself so far, Y/N?” He asks, slurring his words slightly.

“Doing swell,” you say, laughing at the sight of your best friend in front of you. “You okay there, hot stuff?”

Yoongi nods but then has to grab onto you for balance, and so you take the liberty to leading him to the somehow empty couch in Hoseok’s living room so you can set him down. Drunk Yoongi was mildly fun to take care of during your college years, but now that you’re older, you find that it’s just more of a hassle.

“Come on, big guy,” you say, encouraging him as he collapses onto Hoseok’s couch cushions. As you’re leaning over him, making sure he’s not too drunk, you finally meet eyes.

Seokjin looks like a fish out of water in this place, the only other person in the entire vicinity who deigned not to wear an ugly Christmas sweater, staring at you with his pupils dilated and eyes blown wide. Even in the dim light of the fairy lights that Hoseok’s strung up and the flickering bulbs of his lamps, he glows.

You turn away first, not wanting to pay him too much attention as you turn your focus on Yoongi, who’s weakly clawing at your shoulder. You call Namjoon over and ask him to help deal with the hammered mess that is Min Yoongi, and dash outside, desperate for a breath of fresh air.

You knew this was a bad idea,. You get outside and heave, exhaling heavily as you trip over your own feet on the way down to Hoseok’s lawn. Eventually, you settle down in the grass, allowing yourself to decompress. You should have known being back wouldn’t be good for you. It’s all still too much, too much thought and too much regret and too much fear. Repression is only as strong as you are, and you’ve never been very strong.

You tilt your head up, allowing the cool winter breeze to send goosebumps along your skin as you stare up into the night sky. At least there’s one thing in your life that’s constant.

You don’t know how long you’re out here, immune to what most others would call the biting cold of December nights, staring up at the stars like a hopeless romantic, wishing for something more. You? You’re just hopeless.

“Too crowded?”

You turn your head to the source of the voice, and see Seokjin stepping outside as well, softly closing Hoseok’s front door behind him.

“I guess,” you say, turning back to face the road. “I just needed to clear my mind, that’s all.”

“I noticed that you were gone,” Seokjin says, sitting down in the grass a safe distance away from you. The two of you are no longer on the basis where you can sit together and act like everything’s fine. It’s not. Not between the two of you. “I don’t know if it was because of me, but I wanted to come check on you.”

“I appreciate that,” you say, and for once, you actually mean it.

“Are you and Yoongi a thing?” Seokjin asks, and your heart breaks, because even five years ago you knew that this was always his biggest fear. His worst nightmare.

“We’re not,” you tell him. “We never have been.”

It’s an answer to the question he should have asked you five years ago, a response to what he should have told you instead of deciding that enough was enough. Relationships end because people don’t communicate, and the biggest flaw that the two of you share is that neither of you have ever been good at expressing yourselves.

“I’m sorry,” Seokjin says. “I shouldn’t have doubted that.”

“I wish you would have listened to me,” you admit, and oh God, the words feel like vomit coming up your throat. Like one wrong move, and it’ll all come spilling out. You knew you shouldn’t have come back. You should have known the night would end like this, end with you crying about what-ifs and could-haves and wishing that you’d have never returned.

“Me too.”

Silence settles upon you, like dust after a storm. You welcome it with open arms, because sometimes silence is all you need to hear. In the right moments, it’s so much louder than noise.

“How long are you staying?” Seokjin asks you, still avoiding your gaze. One small turn to face him, and you see that he’s staring up at the stars, thumbs twiddling in his lap. He’s always looked at the same sky that you have. You just didn’t notice.

“I’m leaving in two days,” you say, already looking forward to your December 26th ticket back home.

Is the city really a home if the people that make one aren’t there?

“Oh,” Seokjin says, somewhat dejectedly. “I was hoping you’d stick around for a bit longer.”

“Why?” You ask, finally turning to him. “Why now? Why are you asking me to stay, five years too late?”

Seokjin meets your eyes, and it doesn’t look like he’s crying now but it looks like he has before. He’s got the same pain that you do, visible in his chocolate irises. You just never took the time to see it.

“Because five years too late, I have things that I want to say to you. That I should have said, but didn’t. You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. You can leave. I won’t hold you back, like I did before. I won’t make the same mistakes,” he says, and it sounds like a swear, a vow, a promise. It’s frightening, because it makes your heart skip a beat as the hopeless romantic in you think that he means it.

He didn’t mean it last time.

“I can’t stay, Seokjin,” you tell him. “It’s too painful for me here. Everything reminds me of you.”

“Everything here reminds me of you, too,” he admits, and the words catch you off-guard, take you aback. Suddenly, the stars aren’t as important anymore.

Everything seems to pale in comparison to the thought that he might have missed you too.

“Don’t stay for me,” Seokjin says, changing his mind. “Just… just meet me? At the diner. Tomorrow, for lunch. I’ll be there at noon. You don’t have to come,” he says, standing up. “Don’t feel obligated to show. I know that—I know that you feel a lot of pressure to please others, but I want you to think about yourself. Just this once.”

His footsteps crinkle in the frozen grass as he heads back inside, leaving you left with nothing but yourself, your thoughts, and the stars.

When you tell Yoongi that you’re going out at 11:45 in the morning of Christmas Eve, he looks at you with his eyebrows raised, bewilderment riddling his features. But you’re already running late and you’ll chicken out if you think too hard about this, so you bid him a goodbye and run down to the nearest bus stop, leaving him speechless in his own doorway.

You still remember the bus route like the back of your hand. Five years and not a damn thing has changed, same stops, same creak of the wheels. Being on this bus, sitting alone in the back corner (nobody wants to travel on Christmas Eve), you almost feel like yourself again. Like you’re back in college, and the world that surrounds you is warm and bright. Like anything is possible.

You wish it were the same now. But the town that you’re in brings back only memories you wish would go away. Even during Christmas, the lights are dim and the sky is dull and nothing really feels worth celebrating anymore.

It’s muscle memory that tells you to ring the bell so you can get off. Nothing else, not when your mind is cloudy and fogged over with worry and regret. Your brain just barely recognizes the buildings the bus passes by, telling your hand to press the button when it realizes you’re at your stop. That’s what most things are these days, really. Muscle memory that just tells you to do things you already remember. That’s what these past five years have been.

You get off at the stop, staring right at the glowing 50’s diner in front of you. It’s all lit up like a Christmas tree, holiday lights dancing to the beat of the corny Christmas music that you can hear coming from inside. It’s so festive, so cheerful, a beacon of happiness in this dreary town, bleak without the smiles of rambunctious college teens to cheer it up.

Almost. Almost is such a shitty word because it’s never enough. Almost is what almost stops you from reaching out to open the door, what makes you pause right outside, unsure if it’s worth taking another step. You don’t know what lies on the other side of the door, what future awaits you in the booth that used to be yours. It’s 12:06 and Seokjin is definitely there, definitely waiting for a girl that won’t come for him.

You almost leave out of spite, out of revenge. It’s high time he get a taste of his own medicine.

But you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to step backwards, turn around and get on a bus ride home. Can’t bring yourself to leave him sitting there, alone on Christmas Eve of all days, hopeless and hopeful all at the same time. Because if you run from this then you’ll never stop. All you know how to do is run, run away from the problems that plague you, the memories that weigh you down. When was the last time you faced something head on? When was the last time that you decided that you were stronger than your weaknesses?

You take that first step, and it almost feels like a new beginning. Almost.

He sits in the same booth that you always sat in. Old habits die hard and these are some of the oldest. Some things that you just can’t let go of, no matter how hard you try. You walk over to him, positive that it’s your legs, not your heart that draws you towards him.

“Hey,” you say softly, sitting down across from him.

Seokjin’s expression lights up at the sight of you. “Hey,” he says, keeping his eyes glued to the menu. You already know what he’s going to order. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Me neither,” you admit helplessly. The only thing you can do these days is lie, but perhaps for today, it’d be worth it to tell the truth.

The waitress swings by to ask for you drink orders, and without thinking, Seokjin orders two Cherry Cokes. Muscle memory.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Seokjin says immediately afterwards. “I didn’t know if you wanted something different. I shouldn’t have just—”

He’s starting to sound like you, apologetic and worrisome and concerned.

“It’s fine, Seokjin,” you say. “Cherry Cokes are still my favorite.”

“Mine too,” Seokjin replies, breathing out a sigh of relief.

It’s so strange to see him like this, so hesitant and tentative when all your life, you’ve known him as confident and boisterous and unabashedly himself. Like your mere presence sends him spinning back into uncertainty, akin to something of a first date.

In a way, this kind of is one.

“Do you, uh—do you still get the same stuff here? Menu hasn’t changed,” he asks you, chipping away at the ice that’s settled between the two of you with a toothpick. This is so fucking sad.

“I guess,” you say, and you tell your heart not to skip a beat at the thought of him still remembering your exact order, like these five years haven’t happened and everything is back to the way it was. “Do you?”

“I haven’t been here in five years,” Seokjin admits. “But I do.”

“Seokjin, I—”

“I missed you,” Seokjin interrupts, voice soft and shaky. It’s so quiet you almost don’t hear him over the sound of the traffic outside. “I know you think I didn’t, but I did.”

He renders you almost entirely speechless, brain unable to process his sentences as it comes up with blanks, response empty.

“It hasn’t been the same here, since you left. For any of us,” he tells you, and the sincerity in his voice is such a change from the way you last heard it, five years ago when he was screaming his head off at you and telling you that your relationship was useless.

The waitress arrives at the most inopportune (or opportune) time with your Cherry Cokes, two cans beside two ice-filled cups. She places them down on your table and Seokjin orders for the both of you, request rolling off his tongue like nothing’s changed. When she leaves, you’re stuck in silence again as the two of you grab your respective drinks, tapping on the lid with your fingernails, out of habit.

You do it at the exact same time.

Old habits die hard.

If Seokjin notices he makes no mention of it, just pours the beverage into his cup and begins drinking.

“I wasn’t going to come back,” you tell him honestly, because it’s high time that you started being truthful to yourself. “I didn’t want to run the risk of seeing you again.”

“I don’t blame you,” Seokjin says, chuckling to himself. It’s like looking back on the past five years of your life through the lens of an older, wiser version of yourself. One that recognizes that things aren’t always as they seem, and that just because something ends doesn’t mean it’s gone. “I broke your heart.”

Hearing the words from him almost make it feel like it never happened. Like your heart never shattered in his palms a week before graduation. Like he didn’t know how delicate it was to begin with, how one wrong move and it would all come crashing down.

“I wish you hadn’t.”

“Me too.”

“What did you want to talk to me about?” You ask, hoping to change the somber mood, though you doubt anything either of you say could make so much as a dent in it.

“I’m sorry,” Seokjin says again, and oh God, you’re getting sick of hearing him apologize. Hearing the words tumble off of his tongue again and again because he feels like he can’t say it enough. “I’m sorry for being jealous and untrusting and unloving. I’m sorry for not treating you with the respect you deserved. You could have done so much better.”

“But you were the best I could have done,” you say before you can stop yourself from spiraling back down into a hole of regret, love and loss. “You were all I ever asked for.”

“And I couldn’t even give you that,” Seokjin says.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Seokjin,” you tell him. “I’m over it.” And for once, you finally believe yourself when the words spill out. You finally think that you’re right.

“I’ll always worry about you, Y/N,” Seokjin responds. “I love you.”

Sirens go off as your entire heart halts. “Seokjin?”

“I love you,” he repeats. “And it’s okay if you don’t love me back, because I don’t deserve your love after the way I treated you. I’m not saying this to make you stay, because you should do what’s best for you. Not for me. You’re so kind to others, Y/N. I want you to be kind to yourself, too.”

Blinking furiously, you will yourself to make the tears go away, because goddamnit. Goddamn Kim Seokjin, who will always make you swoon and fall in love with him, even after five years of solitude, of separation. Goddamn Kim Seokjin who is warm and bright and owns up to his mistakes, cares more about you than you probably care about yourself. Goddamn it, because even after five years worth of a broken heart all it takes is one phrase to begin to patch it up.

“You can’t just say things like that,” you whisper to yourself. “How do you think it makes me feel?”

“I shouldn’t have told you, I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”

“Seokjin, I—”

Your food arrives, a welcome interruption in an afternoon that feels like it’s just getting worse and worse. You drown yourself in the meal in front of you, food the only thing that can take your mind off of the thumping of your own heart and the unadulterated sadness that leaves your mouth. There are so many what-ifs and could-haves in this world, but dwelling on the past makes you scared of the future. And you don’t want to be scared anymore.

“Thanks for doing this for me,” Seokjin says when the meal is over, the bill is paid. He walks you out of the diner, staying a safe distance away to make you as comfortable as possible. You come to the realization that you’re only comfortable when you’re near him. “You’ve always been so selfless.”

“Seokjin, I just wanted to thank you,” you say as you reach the bus stop. “For all of this. For still loving me after I thought you stopped.”

“I’ll never stop,” he says. “I don’t—I don’t know if you’ll come back again once you leave in a few days, but I want you to know that seeing you again has made me truly happy, even if our old memories bring us only sadness.”

“I’m working on that,” you tell him, and you finally fucking meet his eyes. For the first time in a long time, there is hope and wonder laced in gold among his irises, promises that you know he will give his life to keep. “I don’t think our old memories bring me sadness anymore. I think I’m finally starting to see the happiness within them.”

December 26th rolls around and there’s a whole party sending you off, bringing you to the train station so that everyone can say their goodbyes.

What’s different this time is that you’ve promised to come back, something that three days ago, you could have never imagined. This time, you look forward to the day where you step off of the platform and see Yoongi waiting for you, gummy smile wide on his face as he sees you. Maybe you’ll see Seokjin, instead, and he’ll be waiting to pick you up in his fancy car and take you anywhere you want to go.

Yoongi pulls you in for a bone-crushing hug, makes you swear that it’ll be less than five years he’ll have to wait for your return. You promise to call him more, write to him often, keep in touch as much as possible. That was one mistake you made, cutting yourself off from your old life entirely. Sometimes memories are worth remembering, after all.

When you wrap your arms around Seokjin, the world finally starts to feel like home beneath your fingertips. You begin to believe that one day, you’ll rule the world again, with him by your side just like how it was always supposed to be.

“I love you,” Seokjin murmurs into your ear before you let go. “When you get back, we can do whatever you want to do. I’ll show you the whole world, if you ask me to.”

You love him too, you just haven’t said it yet. You don’t need to. He already knows, from the way you’ve promised to return, from how you nod happily when he says he’ll see you again.

The train arrives and you look back on your farewell party, stepping off of the run-down station and into the car. One look through the window and they’re waving to you, and as you wave back, you know that no matter how far you go, you’ll always come back home.

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