#or little hand.... however much distrubing you want to paint it....

[hauntingblue]

NAMI NEEDS TO GO UP THERE AND FIGHT BIG MOM I AM SO SERIOUS!!! THIS IS A BATTLE FOR THE ROMANCE DOWN TRIO!! SANJI DO NOT DARE TAKE HER SPOT!!!

[inkedtae]

rupture; rapture ⇾ kth. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ ex-boyfriend!taehyung x reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾  one shot, angst, smut, f2l(?), e2l(?), ex lovers au, rekindled lovers(?), sculptor au, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾  responding to a late night call for help forces you to revisit truths you so skillfully ignored. was it always meant to fall apart to fall back into place?

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 13.2k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ slight upsetting themes, mentions of a new relationship, mentions of infidelity (tae thinks reader used him to each on her date), vague mention of consuming alcohol, switch!Taehyung, mullet!taehyung, sub!reader, unprotected sex, rough sex, clay/paint/art sex(?), hate-love sex(?), makeup sex(?), size kink, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms (f.), creampie, overstimulation, a lil degradation, a lil face-licking, body worshipping, clit worshipping, a lil clit biting, choking, spanking, motorboating, begging, teasing, swearing, breath play, breast play

anon asked: taehyung19angst asghjkll. U have a prompt list ? So for that. Maybe. If u want to. WOW. Ur awesome. The bestest. Okay. Bye. Love. Me.

#19 ⇝ “You said you knew how to do this.”

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾  i am aware this is supposed to be a drabble but that never seems to be even for taehyung so here’s a one shot instead. also sorry for writing this so late 

☾ banner by ⇾ @editingverse​ (thank you so so so much dear~ please go give her all your love!! this banner is beautiful!!)

☾ beta’d by ⇾ @kkulmoon​ (luff you, my soulmate crackhead~)

☾ le playlist

◖send me a prompt from dabble drabble. i will try to get to it as soon as i can. please note that i have the right to refuse any request i find uncomfortable.◗

Navigating to the chipped yellow door is second nature. Four months of distance does not change how easy it is for you to find your way to his place from across town. Your most haunting regret, however, is accepting his call. You sat around your apartment for months, fantasizing about how powerful you’d feel when your phone rings and you see his name flash only to decline the call. You told yourself that is how you will regain your dignity, how you will reclaim your life. He’s been a big part of it since freshman year. Best friends instantly, lovers only a year down the line. Clicking that red button, rejecting his apologies is how you believed you’d be able to move on and fully erase him from your life for good.

But, in the midst of a drink with someone else’s company, he calls and you do not refuse. Your heart flips only to fall and shatter in the pit of your stomach. You press the green button without much thought and bring the phone to your ear. He sounds so unsure, so nervous. A relieved sigh you didn’t realize you were holding escapes you. Eyes watering, you whisper his name.

The shame creeps upon you, condescendingly soothing your ego. Where’s your dignity now? It’s as nonexistent as when you stormed out of this very door and swore never to return. You can hear the fates snickering, watching your pathetic self stand outside of the door. Shaking out a shiver, you gather up the scattered pieces of your courage and knock on the door.

The screech of metal on metal echoes as he unlocks the door. The sound is more comforting than you expected it to be. You can’t remember the amount of times you’ve nagged him to replace the damned thing. It’s old, rusted, and the scratches of the metal make you cringe as though your bones are rotting. It used to make your jaw ache, now it only comforts you. Little things already undress your confidence. What will seeing him again do? What emotions will it beckon?

Misery leaks from your bones and into your bloodstream. The door opens to a vision of grace. In his clay-smeared jumpsuit, the sleeves wrapped around his waist and his bare chest exposed, he stares back at you. Though frozen from the winter air, you feel your face grow hot. Eyes shaking, you don’t know where to look. You’re not even sure if you can meet his gaze. It intensifies with every ticking second his long bangs fall over his lashes. He let it grow out? You’ve begged him to do so for months and once you’re apart he finally gives in? You knew he’d look good, maybe even better than his shorter cut.

The sight only confirms that you’ll never understand him. But, you suppose, you don’t have to. He’s not yours to understand anymore, not even as a friend. That statement should give you a sense of relief, but it only resurfaces the loneliness you’ve been ignoring for months.

Shakily sighing, you plaster a polite smile and greet, “Hey Tae.”

Taehyung parts his lips, but his voice catches. He stares back at you, gaze dancing up and down your frame. He drinks in the way your black dress pants hug your curves, and how you dare to wear a tube-top under your coat in the freezing weather. Gulping, Taehyung flashes you a kind, tight lipped smile and moves aside to welcome you in. His chain looped earring dangles with his movements. It’s such a simple antic, but you cannot fight off the familiar comfort in your chest upon catching it.

Each step back into his apartment fogs your mind with memories of joy and despair alike. Sometimes, those emotions rise in tandem during the same memory, within the same five minute time span. But other times, those memories are saturated with one emotion or the other. You two could never find that balance; not as lovers anyway, not as you thought.

“Make yourself at hom-” he cuts himself off just as the door shuts.

You turn to face him, raising a brow at his slip up. Funny how things circle back no matter how much either of you try to suppress them. This place has always felt like home to you. In fact, revisiting it proves that it still does. He just never let you make it official.

The gloom of four months ago has followed you back in here as well, it would seem. You gulp down the little scratch in your throat and try your best to flash a smile. His brows raise at the gesture. You assume a teeth braced wince paints your features instead.

Clearing his throat, Taehyung corrects himself, “Comfortable. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab you a hot drink to warm you up.” His gaze shifts to the slanted window over his little studio sectioned in the corner of his apartment. “It’s really coming down out there.”

Setting your clutch down on his work table, you nod. He glares at your action before looking back at you. You are fully aware of his distaste for you to dump your things near his work, even if it happens to be your own sculpting supplies. However, he distrubed your date tonight and that little slip up of his recalls more anger than you care to accept right now. Playing into his pet peeves is the very least you can do to show him that you’re not here for anything else but fixing his sculpture.

With a pleasant smile plastered on your lips, you peel your jacket off and set it down on the table as well. Taehyung sarcastically smirks then makes his way to the kitchen. You know you shouldn’t but you let your eyes linger on his frame and follow him around the kitchen while he prepares something for you. His shoulder blades flex as he reaches for a mug from the top shelf - a detail you always found makes you anxious because the cups can easily slip out of his hand from such a height and break.

He must feel your gaze as he glances back at you. “You must be freezing,” he comments.

Looking down at your half top, you shrug. “Not really. That’s what a jacket is for.” You shouldn’t sass. It always gets on his nerves. But, the way he regards you with such tamed hostility and smirks all knowingly, switches something in you. You cannot hold yourself back and he cannot expect to call you over here in the dead of night for help only to glare and sneer at you.

Out of sheer spite, you sit on one of the stools by the table and bend down to untie your thick heeled boots. He absolutely hates this. Sloppy and messy, is what he tells you when you come into the apartment with your shoes on and take them off near his studio. Taehyung stirs the contents of your mug, tossing daggers at you in his stares.

It is only now, in the thick silence, do you hear the soft voice of Sinatra through the vinyl player. Glancing over at the source, you recognize the album cover immediately. It’s the same one you gifted him for his birthday last year. His next one is in a couple of weeks. The realization unexpectedly twinges your heart with guilt. You feel as though you should have already bought his gift, and planned his party. It’s not your responsibility to do that anymore, but you want to and that’s enough for your tongue to coat with disgusted remorse.

“Want me to get you a sweater?” Taehyung asks.

You sit up straight at the close sound of his voice. He stands in front of you with the mug in his hands, glaring down at your boots. Kicking them off by the heel, you stare down at the puddle you’ve made beneath the chair. You should apologize but, instead, you thank him for the drink, take it from his hands, and make your way to the project he’s been working on. He mutters curses under his breath before cleaning up the mess you’ve made… As he should.

You smirk into your cup before taking a sip. Hot chocolate. It’s all he can make, or cares to make. And though it is not your favourite drink, he still prepares it to your specifications. Extra sweet and creamy, with a dash of ginger. Could the habits of your past be muscle memory he cannot shake either?

The answer never arrives as your thoughts halt at the sight of his sculpture. Though returned back onto its pedestal, the torso seems to have endured a terrible fall. He’s so careful about things like this. How could he have let it happen? Was the inner wiring he used too heavy? Did he not use enough slip, otherwise known as wet clay, to keep additions in place?

You bite the inside of your cheeks to school your features. Still, there is no hiding the truth. Especially when it’s right in front of you. Redemption is nonexistent. The sculpture is ruined. Tilting your head, you stare at the unfinished molding and try to figure out how to fix it without adding more clay, since he claimed on the phone that he doesn’t have enough to start over.

“Well?” He asks behind you.

Looking back at him, you take another sip then hand him the cup to hold. Taehyung accepts it, bringing the mug to his lips. The gesture is so simple, so casual that you almost miss it. He did it a lot when you two were together. You did it too. It was never a pet peeve but rather something you were proud of. It proved how close you two were, how well you meshed. Sharing food is common between lovers. Only now, that’s not at all what you are.

You stare at him, mouth gape. He licks his lips before taking another sip. The action repairs your heart only for your reality to wreck it all over again. Catching your eye, he raises his brows in confusion. You flicker your gaze between him and the cup, hoping the silent gesture is enough to return his senses.

Eyes widening, he holds the cup away from his face. “Oh,” he hums under his breath. “I’ll, uh, get you a new one.”

“Don’t bother,” you shrug before he can even turn towards the kitchen. “It’s not that big a deal.”

It is. You’re not his and neither is that hot chocolate. He should know better. He should pay attention more. He can see this all in your eyes as you continue to silently judge him. It’s not that big a deal, you repeat to yourself. The way his large eyes soften, the way he pouts is not that big a deal. You have a job to do, feelings to ignore, and a person to never see again. All you have to do is remold the clay and be on your way.

Finally returning your attention to the sculpture, you approach it while pulling your hair back. It’s rather large since he scaled it to be life-sized, so you assume he has some structural wiring in there to keep it in place when molding. You might have to take it out and remold the entire section. But maybe you can simply push the wiring back in place? However, if your theory about the wiring being too heavy is correct, you might face another smash to the floor. So it seems easier to just pull it all out.

“Is the clay still wet?” You ask before poking the shoulder.

It’s tacky, but that’s not enough to keep it from drying. You scan the room for the spray bottle, finding it behind you. Being a sculptor yourself, you know that the clay has to stay wet enough to be able to continue to add and mold it. Your scan of the room reflects that he is close to finishing the project. He has the muse’s head and arms wrapped in air-tight bags to keep them from drying. They just need to be slipped, slid, and smoothed into place. The details also need to be added, but for the most part, he’s just about done.

“If you’re gonna figure it out yourself, why did you ask me?” He sighs as he sets the mug down near a cup of paint water.

His tone is uncalled for. Nothing seems to have changed. He still has a temper and makes no effort to readjust his attitude. You toss him a glare over your shoulder. After spraying some water over the sculpture, you start to dig your fingers into the molding. Taehyung sucks in a sharp breath behind you. You can’t blame him for such a reaction. It must be very disturbing to watch someone else dig through your hard work.

You take off the clay bit by bit, looking for the metal structure wires he must’ve used to keep it all shaped well. However, as you place another chunk on the table, you begin to realize that the sculpture is not hollow, meaning wires have not been used. He simply ventilated the slab of clay to help air bubbles escape when it comes time to fire it.

Furrowing your brows, you look over at him in confusion. He leans back against his work table with his arms crossed over his chest, staring at you. Is this a joke? He doesn’t need your help. He could’ve dug through the smushed clay and remorphed it himself. He’s more experienced than you are; he should’ve known this.

Your anger begins to fester in your chest. He must’ve heard. You still share some mutual friends, so he must’ve heard down the line that you were going out with somebody else tonight. Your outfit of choice is a clear indicator as well. He found out about your date, your first date in the last four months you’ve been broken up, and just needed to ruin it for you. Fuck, you can’t believe you seriously bought his lies again. It’s that stupid voice of his. So deep and soulful, you can never resist it’s lulling temptations.

“What?” Taehyung pushes himself off the table and walks towards you. “You’re pouting like you always do just before you’re about to shout. Is it that bad?”

Is that what he’s doing now? He’s trying to remind you how well he knows you, how well he can read you? If this is just another reminder that no one is like him, you just might prove him right and scream out of frustration. Huffing, you roll your eyes at him. No matter how much your heart flips and flutters at his concern, you will not fall for his stupid games.

He watches in confusion as you clean your hands off with a cloth. “God, (Y/N), what is it? I thought you said you knew how to do this.”

With a dry chuckle, you shake your head and mumble, “You’re still the same liar you’ve always been, Taehyung.”

The perplexed sculptor narrows his eyes. “What did I tell you about mumbling?” He questions in a grumble. “And what the hell are you going on about anyways?”

His tendency to be a walking contradiction will never cease to irk you. He tells you not to mumble then does it himself. Just another pet peeve he’s instilled in you that you can never shake. Then there’s the continuous lies he can never seem to stop telling. For once, why can’t he just be honest?

You toss the dirty cloth at him and make your way to his precious work table only to find that he moved your things to the chair by the door. You rush in that direction instead, and Taehyung follows not too far behind. “I can’t believe you’re still pulling this shit even when it’s over,” you scoff with a shake of your head. “You made it seem like you had no idea what to do. You guilted me into coming back here and for what? To ruin the first night I stopped thinking about you? Well, congratulations,” you drily chuckle as you grab your clutch and turn to face him. “You’ve ruined my night and my date.”

Taehyung pauses mid stride. “Oh,” he rasps, eyes roaming over your body once more. “You had a date tonight?”

Eyes wide, softened, and wet, his next words catch in his throat. All you can make out is a quiet rasp. It’s a convincing act, but you know him well enough to spot his feigned innocence from a mile away. Setting your jaw, you shake your head and sigh, “Not any more.”

You reach for your jacket, but Taehyung is quicker. He snatches it first and holds it behind him. You open your mouth to curse at him when he rushes to say, “Wait, wait.” Hand on your waist, he holds you still.

You freeze under his palm. He’s barely used much force. It’s the simple touch itself that sends you into a trance. The memories of being pinned beneath him, or guided into grinding against his hips rush back to you. Breath hitching, you try to wipe the affection from your features. The searching look in his eyes tells you how bad of a job you’re doing.

“I could fix it myself, but not by myself,” he clarifies. “I just didn’t know how to get you here without making it seem like it’s a complete disaster. Be honest, (Y/N), if I told you I wanted you to sculpt with me you wouldn’t have shown up.”

Be honest. When the fuck have you ever lied to him? The question is tempting to ask, sitting right on the tip of your tongue actually, but you can already tell that you’ve made your annoyance known as concern swims in his eyes. He’s trying to find where he went wrong in his explanation. He’s never done that before. He never notices your discomfort during a fight, but always after the fact. That’s enough to have you consider his explanation, to consider the fact that maybe he has not changed completely, but he’s trying. Perhaps you should start trying too.

Besides, he’s not wrong. If he didn’t make it seem like it was irreversible, you wouldn’t have accepted the invitation over or even thought about ditching your date. Chewing on your lip, you sigh and nod. “Fine, I’ll help you fix it.”

A relieved smile plays on his lips. He removes his hand from your waist, muttering a quiet apology then returns your jacket onto the chair. You set your clutch down on there as well, nowhere near his work, and follow him back to the sculpture. He sprays it down as you take another couple of sips from your hot chocolate.

“When is this due?” You ask as you set the mug down.

Taehyung’s gaze shakes. “At nine,” he reluctantly replies. He sets the spray bottle down. You stare at him in confusion.

The time is both seemingly vague and specific. You furrow your brows, blinking rapidly in hopes that you can reprocess the information for more clarity. When that doesn’t work, you ask, “Tonight?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

Thirteen hours? That’s all you two have to remold and detail a life-sized sculpture. This information alone would’ve had you running to help as well. Why didn’t he just tell you this? Why did he have to lie? No, nevermind his lies. You both have thirteen hours to remold the base, attach the head and arms, and add all the details on all four pieces. It may seem like a lot of time but you also have to let the clay sit for a few hours before firing. However, with a sculpture this large, it might need at least three days to dry. How did he expect to finish the rest on his own?

Nothing is adding up. You know Taehyung very well. You’ve shared sculpting classes countless times. His work comes first; always. He sketches and prepares months in advance for a project since the clay can crack or explode during its bake. How could he not have done the same thing here? He should’ve started this at least four months ago… oh.

Taehyung spares you a nervous glance. He can see the realization of his own reality in your eyes. You swallow thickly, knowing you should just pretend that you haven’t noticed anything. Still, you say, “Tae, we both know that’s not enough time. Even if we split the work, it still needs-”

“Don’t worry about that,” he mumbles. His hands smooth over every chunk of clay he reapplies. “Let’s just piece it all together, okay?”

There is a lot you have to force yourself to ignore in his words and tone. He mumbles orders, and expects you to follow. His voice is deep and cold. He gives you his back while he speaks. It’s but another pet peeve of his that makes you want to pull your own hair out. However, most of all, you have to force yourself to ignore how painful it is. Seeing him again, only an arm’s length away, crumbles your anger and hearing his voice reminds you that he still holds every bit of your heart. You have to blink your tears back at the realization. This idea reeked the moment you considered it. But, you can never stop yourself when it comes to him. A year of friendship and two of love; how can you forget all of that in four months?

Taehyung turns to you, his eyes trailing up from your hips to your chest where they linger. Flickering his gaze back up to yours, he offers a tight-lipped smile. You fail to find it in you to return it. He sighs. Hands by his side, voice heavy with sincerity, he says, “I won’t force you to stay, babe- (Y/N).” His slip up has him frozen in place as well. Clearing his throat, he continues, “I need to get this done and you’re the only other person I know who knows how I like it.”

The familiar pet name gives you pause, but the end of that sentence has you hot all over. Your eyes widen at the alternate implication of his words and you can’t help but choke on your next intake of air.

Taehyung’s expression mirrors yours. Face reddening, he’s quick to correct himself. “No, no, I just mean artistically.”

You cannot find the words to say something, anything to make this situation better. Lips parted, all you can voice are quiet croaks of uncertainty. His large eyes, wide with anxiety, watch you carefully. He’s clearly unsure of how else to soothe your discomfort. He goes to say something else but the words fall short. The scene has your skin crawling with shivers. Shaking your head, you walk around him to smooth out the clay he remolded.

“I’ll fix her waist. I think you should get started on the details,” you say, hoping his words can just fizzle away along with the awkward silence that has fallen over the both of you.

Taehyung takes a deep breath. His eyes remain trained on you for a moment, watching as you match the sculpture’s left side to her right. Then, he circles around you and makes his way to his work table.

Though you should be focused on your work, you still have one eye on Taehyung. The jumpsuit sits low on his hips, and his back is bare of any scratches. Your lasting desire to mark up the blank canvas of his back tightens your core. You can feel your black pants dampening at the thought alone. Your hand gently presses into the mold, smoothing out every piece you add.

With Sinatra’s calm voice circling around the room, you and Taehyung fall into a comfortable silence. The rhythm of your actions, the way you move around each other is like muscle memory. You can subconsciously anticipate the other’s next move and react accordingly. He hands you tools before you need to ask and you accept them without a second thought. It’s easy, comfortable, and so familiar that you almost forget he ruined your plans tonight.

Taking a step back, you wipe your wrist over your brow then assess your work. You’ve been trying to sculpt one of the figure’s breasts, adding clay and rounding out the mold. However, it seems like you’ve undershot a bit and made one mound a bit smaller than the other. You sigh and reach for more clay when Taehyung interjects.

“Leave it,” he says from his place beside you.

When did he step back too? He was just detailing one of the sculpture’s hands. “They’re uneven,” you point.

He smirks. “I like them that way.”

His eyes flicker to your chest again before meeting your gaze once more. You shouldn’t look into that gesture too much, but you do. He can’t say something like that, stare at your breasts suggestively and think you wouldn’t notice. Unless, he wants you to notice. You start to wonder how often he’s thought about your breasts and why he feels the need to incorporate them into his project.

While you remain standing in your place, Taehyung returns to his crouched position and continues his work. You can’t bring yourself to move just yet. You stare at the sculpture, at the curve of her stomach and dip of her waist. She’s full-figured and even has stretch marks on her hips, well the side that has not met the floor still has stretch marks. You need to add them on the other side. But, the shape of her body just looks all too familiar.

No, no, it can’t be. He didn’t sculpt your naked body entirely from memory. And why should he? You’re not a couple and he’s made it clear during those four months of silence that he doesn’t want anything to do with you either. No, this is merely just some consequence. You sigh and get back to work. Those thoughts completely boarded shut out of your mind.

“Were you having fun?” He suddenly asks, standing up to start detailing the sculpture’s breasts.

You glance up at him, about to ask what he means when you remember the date. “Oh,” you hum. You’re not sure how much to tell him, or if you should even entertain him with an answer at all. He’s obviously still affected by the break up if he let it get in the way of his project timeline. What was your date’s name anyway? Morgan, Mac, Mark- Mark! Yes, it was Mark something or maybe something Mark. Fuck, you can’t even remember his name. You’re not even sure where you met up for drinks.

Taehyung pauses his sculpting around the figure’s nipple. He chances a quick look at you, raising a brow. “That bad?” He teases with a playful smile.

His light-hearted tone shocks you out of your thoughts. Maybe you read the situation wrong. Maybe he is over you. Otherwise, why would he ask you about your date so casually, like you two were friends? Or maybe… he’s seeing someone else himself? Sumni did ask for your permission to date him. She was so kind and understanding in her questioning that you couldn’t refuse her. Even if it was a week ago, she would have already talked to him by now and they could’ve already gone on their own date. The sheer thought of Taehyung dating around makes your throat tighten and stomach ache.

“I didn’t stay long enough to make up my mind,” you reply, trying your best not to mumble. Your voice is small though, and tone shot by misery. A wave of hopelessness washes over you at how final everything between you and him feels again. “I don’t think he’s for me though.”

Taehyung hums in acknowledgment or understanding? You don’t know. You can’t pull yourself out of your self pity long enough to decipher it. “Poor guy,” he mutters as he picks up where he left off on the sculpture’s breast.

You carve uneven lines on the figure’s hips, recreating some stretch marks like he had done to the other side. Raising your brows, you question, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs a single shoulder. “I just know what it’s like to lose someone as great as you,” he explains in a near whisper. “The poor guy is gonna lose his mind.”

Tears sting your eyes. He can’t do this. He can’t guilt you for leaving him, not when you both know that it’s just as much his fault as it is yours. Still, even in the midst of pain, the kindness laced in his words tugs the corners of your lips into a small smile. Is that what happened to him? Did this poor guy, this poor little sculptor lose his mind when he lost you?

You toss him a sidelong glance, whispering, “He’ll survive.”

“He can only pray to.”

What is this? What is he trying to say? So he regrets the way that things ended, perhaps even that they ended entirely. Does he think you don’t? Nothing can change how you feel for him. Nothing can hide how badly you wish you can still call him your own. But, he said it himself. He does not want you around, in such close proximity to him anymore. Two years into, what you thought was, a serious relationship and he does not want you living with him.

“I’ll grow tired of us,” he said. Or does he not remember? Did he forget how he promised he’d get you a key, or help you pack? Did he forget how high he got your hopes? Has the fear of getting bored of your company finally withered away?

What does it even matter now? You both said things you haven’t even attempted to take back. Not a single apology has been issued either. Whatever relationship you once had is gone. You can never get it back. Still, you don’t have the stomach to break it to him. You can’t destroy the last little bit of hope he has in you. You can’t find it in you to tell him that no amount of prayer will get you to willingly return to such a relationship.

“He hasn’t been in my company for too long to miss me. Actually, I’m worried he’s already grown tired of it,” you reply. Guilt immediately sheds your pettiness. You know you shouldn’t have said that. Though, he did egg you on. How could he have expected to bring up such a subject and think that you wouldn’t retaliate?

Taehyung tenses and shifts his jaw, giving the impression that he’s chewing gum, and turns to glare at you. From experience alone, you know very well that when Taehyung chews on his imaginary piece of gum, he’s either cocky, pissed or both. This time he has tears glassing over his eyes. Shame cringes your heart. You can’t bring yourself to look at him again. Getting even does not feel as dignifying as you thought it would. You cannot even find a shred of pleasure in seeing him so speechless.

Parting your lips, you try to soothe the sting of your words, only they all fall short. Every time you try to recollect them, they wither away. It’s almost like your mind is warning you from worsening the situation. But the silence is deafening. Sinatra's voice cannot even fill it. His disappointment is too loud; the shattering of his heart like an explosion. And your pain can never shut up. All you can hear is how miserable your soul is and how depressed your heart becomes upon every glance his way. It’s the soft look in his eyes, even when he’s glaring, and the little scrunch of his nose.

With a deep breath, you turn back to the sculpture to keep your hands busy. As you use the pad of your pinkie to smoothen out the stretch mark lines you’ve carved, you say, “We had a drink. That’s as far as we got.”

Taehyung clears his throat. His hands pick up where they left off around the nipple. “Had I known you were out, I wouldn’t have called,” he sighs.

You try not to scoff, particularly because he sounds surprisingly sincere. Sneaking a glance up at him from your squatting position on the floor, you try to search for his usual tell-tale signs. He always blinks one too many times in the same two minute span when he’s lying, that’s if he’ll even meet your gaze. He’s already looking at you when you begin to search his features. He holds your stare and you start to worry that you wrongfully cursed him before when you were convinced that he knew.

“You really didn’t know?”

He shakes his head. “Why would anyone tell me you’re going on a date?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Would you want to hear that I have been on one?”

“Have you?”

Internally cringing, you snap your attention back on the sculpture. The question simply slipped out. He must know that. Of course you’re curious about his love life since you’ve left it, but you don’t need him to know that. And even if he was prying into your date tonight, you still don’t feel comfortable with him knowing that you’ve been wondering about him too, worrying that he’s found the love of his life and forgotten all about you.

Taehyung chuckles. “Do you really want to know?”

Three? Four? Five? How many dates did he have to go on to be able to ask such a question? You hold your breath the moment you feel your next intake waver. Running your tongue between the gaps of your teeth, you stand up and begin detailing the left breast.

“I’m not going to beg you,” you grumble under your breath while sculpting the nipple. Your eyes shift from the one you're working on to the one he perfected, making sure they’re at least even.

“Never had a problem with that before.”

He does not mutter it. He does not whisper it. He chuckles through the statement, cockiness dripping from his tone. Shooting him a glare, you find his jaw moving, the imaginary gum returning. Taehyung smirks at you, eyes dancing over your features like he’s figured you all out.

You raise your brows at him, lips slightly parted by a little smile. “Once again, Taehyung, your memory has miserably failed you,” you start only to widen his grin.

“How so?”

“You’ve been on your knees far more times than I’ve been on mine. You’ve whined louder too.”

He leans in, wrist against his stomach as he lets out a hearty laugh. You feel a rush of your arousal pool at your core just from the simple sound. Face growing hot, you realize how much you’ve missed this, missed him. He always laughed with his whole body, clutching onto you when clutching on his stomach never granted him any stability. Sometimes he’d brace his teeth in a boxy smile and let out his deep chuckles that way. So endearing, so cute, Taehyung would always loop you in his laughing fit as well.

Biting on the sides of your cheeks, you keep yourself from joining in this time. “Why is that so funny?”

Taehyung shakes his head at you as his laughter dies down. With a smile still gracing his features, he replies, “You’re always begging for me. Oh, I remember once you were on the table and you won’t let go of me and until I, and I quote, ‘rammed into you with the force of a thousand waterfalls.’”

Shit. You remember that day all too clearly. Taehyung had been painting and you were somewhere in the kitchen sketching his hands from a distance since he would always tease you about that. Somehow you found out he’d been painting you nude from memory and wanted to help him out. You began stripping for him, inching closer with every piece of clothing you shed. He watched you draw closer to him, and there was something about the way his eyes drank you in that you could not shake. It just made you giddy all over, dripping for his love by the time you were fully naked and within his reach. You were so horny, you said anything to make sure he ruined you.

Avoiding his eye, you reluctantly reply, “I do not recall.”

That statement tips him off immediately. His endearing innocence darkens; you don’t even need to look over to witness it happen. You can feel it. You can feel his demeanour change. Taehyung sets whatever tool he’s using down and towers over you. Stilling in place, you let him graze the bridge of his nose in your hair.

“Do you want me to remind you,” he whispers before pressing his lips to your ear, adding, “my muse?”

Knees all but trembling, you have to remind yourself to keep your eyes open. His warm breath fans over your skin, prickling goosebumps all over. His fingertips brush up the length of your spine, streaking your back with clay and leaving a chain of shiver in their wake. Then there’s that little pet name. Your soul shudders to hear it again while your core waters.

What does he even mean? How far is he willing to go to remind you how badly you wanted him?

Breath shaky, you gingerly meet his gaze. Noses brushing, you try to ignore how good he smells. His scent is always a cross between chalky clay and citrusy cherries. A whine threatens to slip out and you have to swallow thickly just to silence it. “You can try,” you whisper only to feel his hands on your hips.

The grey clay stains the hem of your black pants and a majority of your skin. Taehyung turns you towards him then presses himself against you. His semi-hard rubs against your stomach, making him groan. Seems like he’s falling apart faster than you are. Did he miss this too? Miss the way you smell, the way it feels to be near you again?

You rest your arms on his shoulders and he guides you around and back to his work table. It’s almost like a little dance, with the quiet music still playing in the background. Faces only a breath apart, the temptation to kiss him only grows. But giving in would only prove him right. After so many months, you cannot grant him this victory of being right, especially since he was the one in the wrong when you left.

When the back of your thighs meet the edge of the table, Taehyung shifts his hands down to your ass, gripping tightly and he lifts you up against him and onto the table. You have to choke back a moan just from the rough grip. Your lips brush against each other’s, but neither one of you is willing to bite the bullet first.

“Any of this familiar yet?” Taehyung asks. His voice is almost an octave deeper, saturated in lust and desire.

Smirking, you shake your head.

Taehyung tongues his cheek and cocks a brow. He leans back a bit, hands circling around your waist to rest on your thick thighs. His cocky grin widens as he pushes them further apart. One of his hands shifts up to your crotch, thumb grazing the seams. Face lighting up, Taehyung glances down at your crotch and brushes over it once more.

“No panites?” He questions with a chuckle. “This is looking more and more like that night then I thought it would.”

The confidence he oozes should annoy you, but you find yourself only spreading your legs further for him. Whenever he’s acting this egotistic, you cannot help but respond to it by giving yourself to him. This is a fact he knows well and uses to his advantage any time he’s ever felt like it.

You try to keep your wits about you, saying, “I wouldn’t know.”

Taehyung suddenly leans in. Your breath hitches at the realization that he’s swallowing his pride, that he’s finally going to kiss you. You’ve been dreaming about his lips for months, wondering how you’d be able to find someone else who just fits ever so perfectly against your lips. Eyes fluttering closed, lips in a faint pucker, you’ve inhaled deeply only to have him kiss your chin. He chuckles quietly against your skin, licking his way to your jawline all while leaving you breathless.

“You’re about to,” he growls.

As your body is in the midst of reacting, he somehow digs his nails into the seams of your pants and tears them apart. You gasp, shifting your hands from his shoulder to the edge of the table. You cannot help but stare down at the tear in amazement. Questions on how and why die in your throat when you find that Taehyung’s attention is not even on you anymore. He’s tightening his grip on your thighs and gazes down at your pussy. It pulses under his gaze, much to his own amazement.  

Squatting down, he licks his lips at this new angle. “Well, fuck,” he whispers. “How long have you needed me?”

Four months, you wish you had the courage to say. Instead you breathlessly reply, “I’m not sure this is what happened that night.”

“How would you know? I thought you didn’t remember.”

He’s only teasing but his tone is accusatory. You already know it’s because you’ve refused to answer his previous question. And your decision to talk back only adds to his shift in demeanour.  Once cheeky, his features darken into something closer to vexation. You’ve pushed the wrong buttons it would seem.

Narrowing his eyes, he orders, “Tell me, my muse. Tell me how long you’ve been needing me.”

You suck in a sharp breath. Pressing your lips together in a fine line, you refuse to make another sound, let alone utter another word. You’ll be damned if you have to admit that you regret walking away, that you cannot even remember the details of your date because all you could think about was everything he would do differently. Having to admit that for the last four months all you’ve been able to do is touch yourself to the thought of him or cry wouldn’t just be motifying but shameful and pathetic.

With a slow nod, Taehyung sighs. You think this is it. He’s ripped your pants apart, looked at every inch of your barest part, and teased you all for nothing. You’d maybe ask to borrow some pants, and he might give you some. But, other than that, nothing would’ve come from this interaction. The flirty comments and knowing looks would disappear with your relationship, this you feel you are sure of.

Then, he plays against your expectations; something you should have expected. Just when you’re about to bring your legs together, Taehyung spreads them apart further and shoves his face between them. He cannot use his hands there since they are covered in clay and, it seems, he also refuses to use his tongue. You cannot hold back the moans that pour out of you with every ministration. Merely smearing his face into your heat, Taehyung teases your clit. The bridge of his nose trails between your folds, lips pressing wet kisses to your tightening hole. From left to right, he shakes his face against your pussy.

You buck your hips against his lips, lacking shame and restraint. “Tae,” you moan, voice breaking.

Taehyung pulls away. Heaving and eyes half-lidded, he smirks up at you. He’s drenched in your arousal, looking like the cat who got the cream. “How long?” He mewls.

“Gimme your tongue,” you whine.

Taehyung mockly pouts up at you. He always looks prettiest on his knees, pretending to be in charge from such a degrading position. “Would you tell me then, babe?”

Your hips inadvertently roll at the pet name. You love it when he babies you like that, when he makes you feel so precious and fragile even though you both know you can rule over anything you want. Hesitantly, you nod. He raises a brow, waiting for verbal confirmation that you’ll tell him once he gives you his tongue.

With a little shrug of a single shoulder, you reply, “Why don’t you give it a try, TaeTae.”

His left eye twitches. You know exactly how that name affects him. His anger and powerful demeanor tremble when you dwell on him like that. He doesn’t need to tell you that he’s suddenly yours to overtake; his large eyes do the trick.

Swiping his tongue over his lips, Taehyung cleans his mouth from you. One little taste and his pupils expand, blown by lust and hunger. You don’t have to waste anymore time convincing him that you’d answer his question if he goes down on you. Your taste seems to be enough of a factor, in itself. He dips his head back in, tongue out this time. The tip pushes through your hole, lapping up your pooling juices. Leaning back on your hands, you gasp a loud moan. He knows his way around so well. One flick up, and your toes are curling. No amount of time apart has disturbed his memory of you. This may have been something you noticed while sculpting but now you can feel it. Tongue in and out, warm and wet, Taehyung explores your pussy like it’s his first time, only he knows everything about it.

You want to tangle your fingers in his hair, to see how the long strands feel in your hand, but they’re covered in clay too. And you know from experience just how hard it is to get clay out of hair. Once it completely dries, it almost seems like the only other option is to cut it all out. So, instead, you just dig your nails into the table, engraving your presence in the wood.

Rolling your hips into his face, you cry out your pleasure. Your legs are shaking, squeezing around his face, but he can’t seem to care any less. In fact, judging by his groans and growls, he seems to love the suffocation. He even pushes your legs further against his cheeks. Freezing in place, Taehyung only allows his tongue to continue to swirl around your pussy. His fingers harshly press into your thighs, sure to leave bruises, but you don’t care. Having him mark you up just like when you were together, is enough to make your eyes roll back.

You’re so, so close. Pussy clenching, his tongue still pushes its way in. He’s determined to see you through, to have you unfold right in his hands so hard that he still won’t breathe. And though you start to worry a bit, you cannot really pay attention to anything else besides the pleasure.

“Oh, Tae,” you cry. Voice breathy and high-pitched, it’s only a matter of time before-

It hits you hard, fast, and completely off guard. You have felt it growing and knotting in the pit of your stomach, but have no idea it would rush at you this harshly that you completely fall back on the table. Body convulsing, you scream and cream all over his tongue, mouth, and chin. His entire face will smell like you for days.

Taehyung forces your tightening legs apart, gasping for air. Gazing up at you, he sticks his tongue out and against your clit. He’s determined to help you ride out your high and nods his head up and down. You watch him through blurry vision, shamelessly rocking your hips up to meet him halfway. Or, at least you try to. Soon, you become all too sensitive to even hold his gaze, let alone grind against his tongue.

You fight against his hold on your legs, whining loudly. “Okay, okay,” you gasp as you try to seat yourself up.

He doesn’t care. That once yielding look in his eyes flashes into a demanding one. Seeing you so helpless under him shocks him with power once again. “One more time,” he pants against your heat.

“TaeTae,” you mewl, attempting to manipulate your way out of this overstimulated feast.

However, the use of the name this time, only spurs him on. He knows what you’re trying to do and doesn’t at all find it amusing. This time when he repeats his words, he growls, “One more time!”

Lips suctioning around your clit, he harshly sucks. Slurping and swallowing everything you have to offer, Taehyung holds your gaze. You’re a trembling mess. Tears falling freely down your face, you curse him three times over and buck your hips against his mouth. He finds the entire sight so humorous, he can’t help but smirk.

You’re still his little toy, a play thing for him to fool around with and test out some kinks on. The realization should make you curse him again and again, but you can only play into it. Pouting and mewling, you’ve fully sold yourself out just so Taehyung is well fed with your juices.

This is the peak of his games, you think. This is as far as he will go and you expect that you’ll cum in another minute or so. But then his teeth graze your clit once, twice, three times. You come undone within seconds. Arching your back, you let out the neediest cry you’ve ever heard and pathetically cum against his chin. The shudders and shivers of your body are beyond your control, as is your broken voice and any lasting grip you thought you had on reality.

As if biting and sucking your clit isn’t mindbreaking enough, Taehyung dips his tongue back in you to sneak another taste. “Taehyung, please,” you beg. “Please!”

He finally lets up, removing his face from your sopping heat and releasing his hold on your legs. You instantly bring them together and hug them into your chest. Heaving and shedding your last few tears, you try to recompose yourself and the silent atmosphere you once shared while sculpting.

“Strange,” he starts, returning to his feet. He takes his hands in yours, slowly unwrapping the hug you’ve cocooned yourself in. “It sounds a lot like that night. But, that’s not at all what I was doing then to make you this needy.”

To anyone else, you would've looked fucked out and completely ruined. But Taehyung knows that’s not at all the case. He has tested your stamina enough to know that you can most likely go for another round or two. Pulling your legs apart, he stands between them then helps sit you back up.

Faces inches away, you exchange breaths. “How long have you been this needy, my muse?” He asks again.

He really does smell like you. His cheeks, nose, chin, and lips are smeared with your cum. It doesn’t even look like he was feasting. It almost looks like he just wanted to cover his face with your juices. Gulping, you consider his question. You did insinuate that you’d answer the question if he gave you his tongue. And, holy fuck, did he give it to you. However, an insinuation is not a promise. He made that clear during your last argument.

“I don’t remember promising anything,” you whisper in a light pant.

The pain in his eyes cannot be neither mistaken nor missed. Echoing his words all these months later, surely recalls suppressed emotions of misery and betrayal for the both of you. He sneers a smirk, glaring at your lips. “Your memory has failed you,” he hisses. Gripping onto your hips, marking you there with bruises as well, he adds, “But, I won’t.”

“Not again, anyway.”

You sound colder than he does which causes him to hesitate for a moment. His hands fall by his sides as he searches your face for some sort of confirmation to continue. He almost seems like he’s not sure if he really wants to pick up where he left off too, seeing that you’re still upset with him. The guilt of seeing him so fragile and wounded eats away the majority of your anger. But, if he thinks he’s the only one struggling to make sense of this break up, he’s wrong.

Right now, the only way you can think of showing that to him is by first displaying your eagerness to continue in this sexual stroll down memory lane. You lean forward, brushing the tip of your nose against his, and reach down to his crotch. The dent in his jumpsuit throbs in your hand. His hard cock all but pulses under your palm as you rub at it. His breath hitches. You then untie the sleeves of his jumpsuit and watch carefully as his cock comes back into view. Fuck, you’ve forgotten just how pretty it is when it’s all pink tipped and desperate to be pumped. He shifts a bit, you assume to step out of the jumpsuit, and resettles his hands back on your waist.

Not another moment of uncertainty stands between you anymore. Swallowing his pride, Taehyung kisses you first. Lips on lips, the taste of yourself on his tongue has you moaning already. He  seems to take this as a sign to let himself go as well. He pulls you closer to the edge of the table and rolls his hips into yours. The length of his dick rubs between your folds, but he doesn’t enter. Not yet. He simply teases the idea of entering, of ruining you.

But, you’re too overstimulated to enjoy it in its entirety. Your legs resume their little shudders at the tiniest bit of friction when his cock just happens to brush against your clit. Taehyung, upon noticing this, makes sure to touch it with every new grind against you. He smirks when you whimper into his mouth and chuckles a bit when you break the kiss to whine his name.

“What is it, baby,” he coos. He grounds his hips harder into yours, erupting moans from the both of you. “Ah, shit, I could just cum like this,” he hisses as his mouth hovers over yours.

A little smirk tugs on your lips at his words. Yes, you may be helplessly falling apart with every passing second. However, watching him come undone from the impression of your pussy against his cock, is a rather prideful moment. You tilt your head and begin peppering his chin and cheeks with open mouthed kisses, staining his face with your saliva now as well as your cum.

“Then, just cum, TaeTae,” you whine.

Perhaps if you didn’t sound so desperate, he probably would’ve switched back into his own submissive state. But, it’s the squeal in your voice and mischief in your tone that only drives him further down his power trip. He pulls away a bit, holding your horny gaze with an unimpressed one of his own. He realigns his hips as his jaw shifts. He’s pretending to chew gum again. Holy shit, he’s going to fuck you senseless.

He does not push into you though. Instead, he pulls you onto him by the deadly grip he has on your hips. You stare up at him as a loud cry escapes you with every inch that stretches your walls. Taehyung looks back with very little remorse in his eyes. The sight of you so small in his arms, whipped for his cock, makes his tip twitch a bit. But he is not immune to the action of entering you, sucking in a sharp breath.

“I can’t believe I forgot how tight you were,” he whispers, voice breaking.

And you thought you could never forget how big he is, but here you are. Eyes rolling back, you relish in his size like it the first time. “Big,” you mewl as he bottoms out. “Tae, you’re so big.”  You sound just as broken as he does.

He cannot even find it in him to be cocky about it. He hears the realization in your voice. He knows you’ve forgotten too. A flash of pain twinkles in his eyes. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and whisper. “Remind me, Taehyung.” His brows quirk up and you add, “Remind me how good you make me feel. And I’ll remind you the same.”

Taehyung presses a gentle kiss on your forehead. Then, his hips snap in action. Holding you close, he starts hard and fast. He’s naked and growling into your ear with every thrust. You’re clothed and whining with every rumble of his chest and jerk of his hips. You didn’t even have to beg to bring out such a feral side of him. Could it be that he’s looking for the same thing you are? A lost lover?

Clay smeared fingers pressing into his skin, you push away that thought and scratch at his back. That once blank canvas of muscle and skin will now be lined with your lov- lust. This is just lust. You have to remind yourself of this fact every time he pushes into you.

He quietly hisses with each streak until he pauses his thrusts. You pout, leaning back a bit to ask if anything is wrong. But before you can even part your lips, Taehyung is readjusting his grip from your hips to your tube top.

“You’re a fucking slut to dress like this for him,” he growls. Then, in one swift motion, he pulls it down. You gasp as your breasts spill out, not out of exposure, but simply shock. He grips onto the rolled down top and smirks. “They’re a little uneven,” he points out. “But, I like that about them. Does he too? Does he get to see you like this, slut?”

You’ve got it wrong. It’s not your use of his nickname that has sent him spiralling into a pit of dominance, but rather that you went out to see another man. Is that why he ripped your pants apart? He’s destroying the outfit he thinks you wore for somebody else. Not only that, but his words only confirm that he is indeed sculpting you. All from memory, Taehyung has been molding your naked body down to the precise imperfection of your slightly uneven breasts.

And while you’re still trying to make sense of it all, he slaps one of them causing you to moan and throw your head back. Taehyung grabs a hold of your chin and drags your head back down to meet his gaze. “Answer me,” he seethes. “How much of you does he have?”

“None!” You shout. Your breathing is uneven, and you have to swallow the lump in your throat to continue, “I don’t even remember his name; he’s irrelevant.”

Taehyung circles his hips around yours, clearly pleased with your reply. But he does not pick up where he left off. “You haven’t been able to remember a lot tonight. Is that all irrelevant to you too?”

The shake of your head is reactive. You barely even had to think about it. This act of pretending that you don’t feel anything for him anymore has clearly fallen. “That’s not it, Taehyung,” you whine, hooking a leg around his waist. He wipes the tears streaming down your face as you continue, “I just didn’t want to remember us.”

Licking his lips, Taehyung slowly pulls out and eases himself back in. You tremble, watery eyes twitching in bliss. “Tell me how long you’ve been needy, baby,” he whispers.

“Have I not said enough already?”

You clutch onto his biceps and buck your hips up to meet his. He gasps, unable to hide his smile. You can tell he wants to finish this conversation but, with the way your walls are tightening around him, he doesn’t seem like he’s able to. One look in his eyes and you can tell he’s consumed by the pleasure all too much to reply.

Taehyung lets one hand fall to his side when he starts to pick up his pace. You shift one of your hands to his shoulders while the other holds onto the table’s edge. He holds you by the grip he has on your rolled tube top and smacks his hips against yours. It’s almost as if he’s riding a horse with the way he’s fucking you. And if you don’t whine loud enough, he’d slap each of your tits and force those screams out of you, growling, “You can do better than that.”

Removing your hands off him and back to the table, you accidentally rest your hand on one of his palettes. You gasp, looking over to find your hand smeared with blue and yellow hues. Taehyung laughs and rams into you faster. “You’re just making a mess wherever you go, hmm?” he teases.

You pout. He’s having too much fun making a mockery of you. Granted, you’re loving the attention, the way he’s fucking you into submission and realization, but you cannot let all this go to his head too much. As he smacks your breasts once more, nipples a little raw as they sting, you wipe your hand on him, down from his cheek to his collarbone.

He gasps, but his hips never stutter. Before you can even register his actions, Taehyung readjusts his grip from your top to your breasts and shoves his face between them. He transfers the swirl of dark blue and gold all over you as he fucks you as senseless as you predicted.

And as he playfully punishes you, blowing raspberries into your chest, you find yourself missing this, missing him. How could you have forgotten he likes to get playful, that he can switch between his two demeanours so seamlessly? He giggles when he pushes your breast into his face and further stains them with paint.

“The only one making a mess is you,” you rush to whine as your impending orgasm nears.

Dipping your hand in more paint, you rub the colours on his back and shoulders. You’re going to colour him yours if this is the last thing the two of you do together. Paint on his skin, in his hair, all over him, you’re going to make your impression here last through all the moans and whines and lewd slouches of your sensitive wetness around him.

Taehyung kisses his way up to your lips. He slips his tongue in once he reaches them and rolls his hips into you particularly harder than before. He can feel that he’s got you trailing the edge of your high. Thrust upwards, Taehyung reaches your most sensitive place. Every ram into it makes you shudder, toes curling and moans pouring into his mouth. One of his hands shifts up to your breast, massaging the smeared paint in, while the other holds your hips in place.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whines against your lips. “Come back to me.”

He can’t do this. He can’t beg you to come back with his dick shoved so deep in you like this. You’re so fucking close and he knows this. He can feel every inch of you tighten around him and desperate to be released. It’s cruel of him to manipulate you like this, to kiss you like he’s lost in the moment when he’s really just lost in you.

Kissing his way to your ear, Taehyung feels your pussy quiver. He smirks, thrusting hard enough to move the table back, and growls in your ear, “Come back to me, my muse. Cum.”

You fall back onto the table, body a total shaking shock as your orgasm washes over every inch of you. With one hand trembling over your lips, your other grabs onto one of your tits in an effort to brace yourself from the rush of ecstasy that overcomes you. The moans and whines that leave you are no exception to your convulsing state. Their breathless, broken, and blaring as you practically scream out in bliss.

Taehyung enjoys the show, watching you forget how to breathe from his place between your legs. He’s still going fast and hard, groaning when he feels you coat his cock in your cum. Mesmerized by the sight of your unheld breast bouncing with each of his thrust, he slaps it. You squeal at the sting.

And as you try to look at him, still riding out your orgasm, Taehyung’s cock twitches only to paint your inner walls with his missed affections. He falls forward, over you, burying his face between your tits again. You push them into his face and shake them against his cheeks, hearing him growl over your heart.

At some point, he stops thrusting and opts to circling his hips into yours. It’s all the same to you. Your legs continue to shake and your heart still races. Drenched in sweat, paint, and clay, you two lie there for a second longer. Even while growing limp, Taehyung feels so full in you.

He peels himself off you. His face, glistening in paint, looks like Van Gogh’s starry night, his eyes being the sparkling stars. He smirks down at you before trailing his gaze lower. That smile falls with every part of you he realizes he has ruined. Your chest is exposed and covered in colours, shirt non existent, pants clay stained and torn straight down the middle, and pussy a sopping mess of your mixed cum when he pulls out.

“I did make a mess,” he pants.

One step back, then two, then three. He distances himself from you as if ashamed of his work. You slowly sit up and cross your legs. Already, they feel strained and sore. But, they’re the least of your worries. It's the way that Taehyung winces at the sight of you, that has your heart somersaulting into your stomach. You swallow thickly between heaving pants and watch him carefully. He’s completely bare and looks even more broke than you do. His gaze looks vague and face sickly. Shaking his head, Taehyung runs a hand through his hair. He looks so annoyed with himself, he cannot even find it in him to laugh at the fact that he only got more paint in his hair.

Crossing your arms over your chest to cover yourself up a bit, you say, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He blinks repeatedly, snapping his attention back up at you. “Why aren’t you disturbed by this?” He questions, voice all but breaking.

Your eyes scan up and down his frame before your brows knit together in confusion. Is he referring to his naked body, or that the two of you just came to the thought of dating each other again? Still, why is either of those things worth being disturbed over? A naked Taehyung post sex has never been a bad sight and, though things did end horribly, the thought of being with him again doesn’t seem so bad now. Did he not mean it when he asked you to come back? Was it just something to get off to? Are you just something to get off to?

“What?” You whisper now that your anxious train of thought has robbed your voice.

“Aren’t you dating?” He clarifies. “That poor guy. I can’t believe I just let us do that.”

You’ve never seen him this distressed. He walks back to you, just to grab his jumpsuit and briefs. He can’t even bear to look at you as you stare back at him in complete confusion. What does he think happened here? That you cheated? Clenching your jaw, you can't believe that he could think that low of you. Then again, you never did blatantly say that it was your first date since the break up. In fact, now that you think about it, you did make it seem like you were in a relationship with someone else.

Taehyung hastily gets dressed as you try to hop off the table without falling on your face from how weak your legs are after such a fucking. “Tae,” you start only to have him walk away. With a sigh, you call after him. He ignores you.

What the hell are you supposed to do now? You sure as hell can’t follow him with your legs so sore and he doesn’t seem to want to talk to you. And even if you could walk, your clothes are ruined and it would take a while for an uber to get here with all the snow coming down out there. The distant spray of the shower directs your attention to the hallway Taehyung escaped down to get away from you. Great, he’s showering and left you here to figure this all out yourself.

Taking a seat on the floor, you decide to give your legs a moment to rest before ordering yourself an uber and hoping that this night ends soon. You should’ve listened to your gut and rejected his call. You shouldn’t have agreed to this, or come here, or let him remind you just how much you miss and love him. All you ever wanted was- is him. If it haven’t been for this whole stupid issue about moving in, you’d still have him.

But, no. You had to force him into a step he wasn’t ready for. You lost him then and you came back to watch yourself lose him again. Is that it? Is that why you didn’t even explain yourself to the poor guy that was sitting across from you at Rollos. Yes, Rollos; that’s where you went for drinks. Wow, your memory really hasn’t served you well tonight. You hope you forget this tomorrow. You hope you'll be able to forget how pathetic you feel, how hurt he sounds, and how you lost him all over again.

“Get up,” Taehyung orders. His voice is rough, like he had been sobbing.

Looking over to him, you find that could’ve actually been the case. His face is tear streaked now as well as paint smeared. He stands a good few feet away from you, glaring down at your woefully ruined frame. “Taehyung, I’m not-”

He doesn’t seem to want to hear any of it. “Get up,” he repeats. “Go shower. I have some clothes for you to wear then I’m taking you home.”

“Tae, just liste-”

“Delete my number. We never talk about this again. And if you’re at all like the person I loved, you’d tell him the truth.”

Is he seriously judging you right now? You’ve barely even had a chance to explain yourself. He really doesn’t want to listen to anything you have to say, cutting you off like you’re less than him. You cannot help but scoff at him and his words.

Taehyung sighs. “Just please get up, (Y/N).”

“I’m not dating anyone.”

His superiority falls. The life returns to his face as he approaches you but you recoil into yourself the moment he steps forward. Pausing, he tilts his head at you. “What is it?”

What is it? This man is going to be the death of you. “You just shamed me for something that wasn’t true, Taehyung!” You shout.

“I thought you were cheating with me!”

You use the table to help yourself up and dryly chuckle. “Ha, yeah because lying is such a normal thing to do, right? I’m as twisted as you, Taehyung.”

“I lied because I knew saying no would hurt you. Why can’t you see that I was just looking out for you?”

That one sentence makes you freeze in place. Is he really that fucking dense? He can’t seriously believe that looking out for someone you love involves lying. Slowly turning to face him, you don't even make an effort to hide your tears anymore. “You were looking out for yourself and you know it!”

“I just didn’t-”

“Want to grow tired of me.” You finish for him in a mocking tone.

Taehyung huffs, shaking his head. “That’s not what I was going to say. Would you just let me finish?”

You’re done with this stupid conversation. All you want to do is go home and get as far away as possible from him and the way he smells and the fact that even though you hate him so much right now, you want him to come and hug you and tell you everything is going to be okay. But, he’s just so annoying. And you can’t bear to look at him anymore with that cold glare consistently being directed towards you. You’ll wait outside for the uber. Hell, you’ll just walk back to your apartment. Anything to get out of here and away from him.

In an attempt to follow through, you try to make your way towards the door, but your legs almost instantly give out.

“Jesus, babe,” Taehyung hisses, rushing to your side.

It’s not even just the fact that you’re sore but your ripped pants are starting to rub up against your cum leaking pussy. You whine a bit and try to shake him off in order to jump back onto the table. But, you’re thankful he stays by your side because you definitely cannot get up there alone with your lacking upper body strength.

His hands linger on your thighs, softening eyes locked on yours. A hint of a smirk plays on his lips before he says, “I remember doing this to you often.”

Yes, leaving you limping around the apartment was his favourite pastimes. He liked to watch you struggle to walk after every intimate moment. In fact, he always felt like he didn’t do his job right if you’re not limping. He’d go ten times rougher the next time around and then cuddle you to his chest, cooing reassurances in your ear. Was it bad that you wanted that all the time? That you wanted to sleep and wake up in the same bed he does everyday?

Slow tears roll down your face as you take his hand art stained in yours. “It was my first date since our break up,” you confess. “Sumni asked for your number… and for permission to go out with you. I just felt a little hurt that you were moving on.”

“She called.”

Your heart has shattered too many times tonight to even react to his words, but you can feel your soul shudder. She called. And did he answer? Did he have a drink with her too? You want to ask but your pride swallows your questions whole. All you can bring yourself to say is, “She’s a nice girl.”

He nods. Squeezing your hand, Taehyung wraps his arm loosely around your waist and stands in front of you. “I told her I wasn’t really ready to see anyone else yet,” he tells you, pressing himself against you.

The gesture is not at all sexual and you do not interpret it as such. Rather, it is tender and comforting. He releases his hold on your hand to wipe your tears, letting his own fall. Licking his lips, he whispers, “What’s his name?”

You shrug.

“Come on,” he half-heartedly nudges your legs. “Tell me.”

Does he think you’re trying to spare his feelings? Meeting his gaze, you can’t help but smile. He looks so cute, so precious in front of you. Playing with his hand, your fingers looping around his, you reply, “I don’t remember. I only spoke to him for half an hour or something.”

He cannot hide his smile, but avoids your gaze. Even still, you can see the relief within them. He seems to be pleased that you’re just as miserable as he is, pining after someone you cannot have any more.

“Is that why you came over?”

You shake your head before you can even think the action through. And the words leave your lips just the same, “I just missed you.”

“I really missed you too,” he croaks, rushing to say the words like he can’t believe them himself. “God, I’ve just wanted you back for so long.”

He’s all but sobbing in front of you. Parting your lips, you’re about to tell him that he doesn’t have you, not yet anyways. The fact is that he still lied, and has continued to lie to manipulate you. This cannot be forgiven so easily. You love and miss him dearly, but surely you cannot just take him back without discussing the cause of your break up first.

But then, Taehyung burrows his face into the crook of your neck and lets himself fall apart. Hugging you close, he cries into your skin. You cannot hold back the sob that tears through your throat just from the mere sound of his choked breaths and wet tears against you.

“I’m so sorry,” he cries as you cradle his head. “I’m sorry.”

The broken tone of his voice is enough to make you whimper into his hair. He sounds so fragile. This break up, you realize, has torn him inside out too. Pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, you try to console both of your fears. But every sob trembles your courage and every drop of his tears makes you recoil in guilt and shame. How could you have done this to him, to your relationship?

He shudders a breath as he pulls away. Red in the face, wet streaks staining his painted cheeks, he cups his hands under your jaw and says, “Look, you can move in right now, okay? Alright? I’ll get your things tomorrow. I’ll give you Jungkook’s key. He only comes here to steal our food anyways.” Just stay, please (Y/N).”

His voice is shaky and tone all but heartbreaking as he chuckles at his own little joke. The desperation is real and hard to deny. You cannot even open your mouth to even voice your reservations about dating again. Clutching onto his jumpsuit, you try to revert your gaze to your lap in hopes to find your courage and tell him that you need to talk first. Only, Taehyung dips his head low to catch your eyes again. He’s determined to have you stay. And your silence only provokes more tears.

“I promise I’ll never tell another lie,” he sobs. “I promise I’ll never let my worries get in between us again. Please, baby, just please stay. Say that you’ll stay.”

You cannot watch this for another moment longer. There’s lots you still have left to discuss, like why he’s so worried about growing tired of you, and why he felt the need to lie in the first place. But his promise to never do it again is enough for now. And you just can’t sit here watching him cry any longer. You pull him towards you, pepper his cheeks with gentle kisses then cradle his head.

“I’m not going anywhere, Tae,” you mutter into his hair. “Mostly because I can’t.”

Your attempt at a joke causes him to choke out a chuckle. He showers the crook of your neck with wet kisses, muttering into your skin, “I love you.”

Rapturing in a relieved frenzy, your nerves dance within your bloodstream and repair your ruptured heart. You let out a deep breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. “I love you too,” you cry.

The last four months haven’t granted you a shred of peace. You’ve lived and re-lived that argument over and over again, praying you can just go back and fix it all there and then. But, maybe… maybe it all needed to fall apart to fall back into place. Maybe it needed to rupture to rapture.

tags: @miinoongi​, @jenotation​, @allannahmalik​, @taeshuworld​

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

[one-leaf-grimoire]

“triad”

Chapter 8: the septad

In this chapter you can find discussion of fate, the Tree of Qliphoth, and... a moth goddess?!

AO3 link

Dear Lyra,

I’m sorry for being so out of touch lately. To be fair, it wasn’t entirely my fault, since this recent incident basically halted all mail movement around the kingdom. However, I got your most recent letter today, and I’m so glad that you and the others are safe! And it seems the town suffered minimal damage, and you were able to take down the one attacker all together. 

Anyway… I’m sure you’ve heard the news by now. I would have invited you all to my coronation, but it was all over so fast, there was hardly time to plan a trip. Plus, the castle and capitol is still in shambles, so it wouldn’t have been fun. Don’t worry- I’m alright, with many friends and advisors by my side. I’ll have time to be sad once the situation has stabilized, whenever that will be.

Please write back soon. I miss you.

Love…

My pen pauses above the page before I sign my name.

Should I tell her… about the baby?

After a moment, I move again. My name appears, then is quickly concealed as I fold the letter up. 

“Are you almost done?” Marx pokes his head into my office, just in time to see me press my finger into a disc of wax and start to heat it up. “Oh, you are. You wanted to head out soon, right?”

“Right!” I watch the wax melt, then shake the excess off of my finger. “As soon as you send this off, I want to leave.” I grab one of the seals sitting on the desk, the official seal of the Wizard King, and press it into the wax. “Hopefully this won’t take long… they either have the information I need or they don’t.”

I stand up, holding the sealed letter out for him to take. Marx quickly receives it, waves his hand, and sends out a signal. Within seconds, a small portal appears at his side; belonging to one of our many postal mages downstairs. He throws the letter inside, and that’s that. “There we are. Now, where’s Adeline?”

“She’s delivering orders to the squads,” I tell him, motioning for him to follow me out of the office and down the hall. “She’ll be back soon, we’ll probably run into her on our way out.”

“Oh, good!” Marx smiles a little, his eyes narrowing. “You know, I’m sorry for being so hesitant about her… she ended up being very efficient and hard-working. Although, I can’t blame her-” He glances over at the back of my head. “She’s devoted to you entirely… as far as she’s concerned, you saved her life.”

“Well, that’s what a good leader should do, right? Find talent, in unexpected places, and bring it into the light.” 

That’s what Julius would have done, anyway.

Just as I predicted, we run into Adeline a few minutes later. She skids to a stop in front of us, out of breath from her previous chore, but a big smile appears on her face as she spots us. “Your majesty! And- Marx!” She quickly bows her head out of respect. “I’ve completed the task you gave me!”

“Please, no more your majesty! I like you enough that you can call me by my real name.” Adeline looks up in time to see me shoot her a little wink. “Thanks for doing that, now come on!”

Adeline quickly joins my side, and before long the three of us reach an open window. Marx immediately winces. “Oh no… you can’t possibly-”

“It’s the quickest way! Come on!” I grab his hand and hold the other out to Adeline. “Hold on tight, alright? It’ll just last a couple seconds.”

Her eyes widen, but she nods quickly and takes my arm. Without another moment passing, I turn back towards the window.

“Flame Creation Magic: Sun God’s Leap.”

Tiny wings burst to life around my elbows and ankles, fluttering delicately but with more power than ever before. This is my only flight spell, and when paired with my time acceleration, there’s no way to travel any faster. 

“Here we go!”

I push off the ground, and the three of us shoot off out of the window. Marx and Adeline both hold on tighter, Adeline letting out a little scream of surprise. Land and air courses past our bodies, faster and faster, the feeling so familiar. I can remember it… just like it was yesterday. The first time Julius showed me his power… I was going to be late coming back to the base, and he just swept me up and- in a moment, we were there.

Those simple days… what I wouldn’t give to have them back. When my biggest worry was whether or not Julius liked me back. 

Because… of course he did. It was so obvious, even back then… we were meant to be together.

A few seconds later, we crash down to earth, a little less elegantly than usual since I have two passengers. The moment I let go, Marx stumbles away, extremely dizzy, but Adeline keeps clutching at me, stunned and dazed by the experience. “W-W-Wow…” she stutters, blinking owilishly. “That was… really… cool…”

“Ah, thanks-” I cut myself off when I realize just how… close she is. Adeline is a good few inches taller than me, and having her pressed against me like this. “Ah- er- Adeline-” I feel my ears start to heat up. “Do you think you could-”

“OH! Sorry!” She lets go and steps back, seemingly back to normal. “Thanks for the ride… now…” She turns to look around. We’re standing outside a small town, a very humble town in the middle of nowhere. This place is close to the border with the Heart Kingdom, the land fertile and rich with natural mana. This is where the remnants of the Simulcian race live… where my family lives. “This is the place?”

“It sure is.” I suck in a breath, a little worried about what was to come. “Now.. don’t be frightened by them. They’re going to be nosy, and they don’t really understand personal space,” I explain as we start to walk. “They’re all brothers and sisters, making them my aunts and uncles.”

“Right… and, what exactly do we need from them again?” Adeline asks.

“They could have information about the Devils- don’t you remember that big lecture I gave you about it yesterday?”

Adeline laughs nervously. “Oh, right… ah, to be honest, there was so much information, and I’m sure I forgot some of it-”

“Nevermind, I’ll tell you later.” She’s honest though, at least…. I sigh heavily.  About most things. I can’t help but remember our first meeting, that look of surprise on her face, and those words-

“Your eyes…”

Well, if she was off-put by these eyes of mine, then she’s got a big shock coming…

“OH! LOOK! IT’s OUR NIECE!”

And… here they are.

A small crowd of people run up to us as we reach the town. All of them look a bit like me, with slightly varying shades of hair. However, all of them seem to be about my age, and all of them have the same, empty black irises. When they were united into Septads, those eyes glowed an eerie blueish white. “Hey guys… long time no see?”

A few pairs of hands immediately grab my arms, just like I anticipated, and start to drag me away, all chatting all at once.

“A visit from our Wizard King!”

“The first Foreign Wizard King!”

“This is a great victory for the Simulcians!”

“The first non-human Wizard King!”

“We’ll have to build a statue of you next!”

Luckily, they ignore Adeline and Marx, who jog behind us. Adeline looks a bit worried about me, but Marx is used to this by now. “Hmm? Statue?” I repeat, still trying to get used to this newfound hospitality. 

“Oh, right! Come look at our most recent project!” one of my uncles says excitedly. “We had to put it on hold after the attack, but it still looks great so far!”

Huh? I wonder what it might be-

We turn the corner to enter the “town square,” and the hands finally release me. “Don’t run off like that!” Marx scolds, hurrying up to my side with Adeline. What? It’s not like I had a choice! I almost respond, but Adeline catches my attention when her eyes widen. “W-what is that supposed to be?”

Hmm? I turn to follow her gaze, finally spotting the unfinished statue in the middle of the square. It’s made of wood, part of it painted dark blue, but it looks like it’s been on hold for a long time. I recognized the figure immediately. “Oh… this is your deity, isn’t it?”

“Yep!” an aunt answers in unison with a few others. “Aren’t they beautiful! Simulcia, in all her glory…”

The populace of the Clover Kingdom tends to believe in God. Churches and convents are located in almost every town, and most people worship in their own homes. My mother made me and my cousins go to church every week, but I never really absorbed any of it. Maybe I was trying to emulate my father, who never joined us for worship. Little did I know, even he must have had some underlying allegiance to… her. 

If the concept of God is ridiculous to me, then it’s even harder for me to believe in Simulcia. According to my family, she was a giant woman who took the form of a moth. Parts of that are evident on the statue; her inhuman face, her tall, feathered antennae. She had wings, too, but they haven’t gotten around to carving those yet. Her two giant eyes are painted black. The finishing touches are her marks, seven of them, carved into her palms, her knees, her stomach, her heart, and finally, her forehead. Apparently she broke into seven parts upon her death, and is the “mother” of all Simulcians. I’m not exactly sure how accurate all this is…

“A… a pagan god?!” I look over to see Adeline staring at the statue again, looking very distrubed. “You didn’t tell me they were pagans!”

“Pagan?” I repeat, for some reason finding this kind of funny. “Adeline, it’s fine… they’ve been worshipping that goddess longer than the Kingdom worshipped their God.”

“I know… but-” Adeline finally looks over at me. “Their?”

“Ah, You know, I don’t believe in God or that thing- I mean, Simulcia. So what does that make me?”

Adeline opens her mouth to answer, but she can’t. She’s probably lived a very sheltered life... I chuckle before turning to my family once again. “Well, if it isn’t too much trouble, may we stay for lunch.”

“Of course!!! We’ve got plenty of potatoes!”

“Oh… great!”

The Simulcian Colony works day in and day out, using all their mana to produce nutritious crops… mainly potatoes. The crops get sent out to poor areas, so the operation is going full throttle now more than any other time. The potatoes are good, I can’t deny it, but they taste earthy, almost tangy. But they’re moist and rich in mana, so I don’t complain when it’s the only thing I’m served at lunch. The whole town is extremely communal, so everyone is gathered here to eat. There’s about 40 of them living here, all chatting together in small circles as I sit down with Adeline and Marx to eat.

“With respect, we didn’t come here to socialize-” Marx reminds me, glancing around, clearly a little uncomfortable.

“I know, I know, I’m going to ask right now,” I whisper, turning to smile at some of my aunts as they suddenly come and sit down near us. “Hi! So, about this visit-”

“Is this about the Curse in the Heart Kingdom?” one of them cuts me off, already chewing a mouthful of food.

I blink, a little stunned by the quick response. “Kind of… wait, how do you even know about that?”

The aunts share a little look, holding back a chuckle. “You didn’t feel it? My, your human genes are really strong, aren’t they?”

Huh? I repress a frown, a familiar sense of unease permeating my heart. Marx gulps quietly, and Adeline stares at me like I’ve grown another head. They had to bring it up now, didn’t they? Ah- I clear my throat. “So, Simulcians can sense Devil Curses?”

They all nod in unison. “Yes! We just know it’s there, not anything else though.”

“Oh, well…”

I quickly explain the situation to them: the Attack in six months, the Devil Megicula’s link to the Heart Kingdom, and Zagred’s reaction to me. “Hmm… a link between SImulcians and Devils…?” One of my aunts taps her chin as she thinks, her eyes not betraying her inner thoughts. “Well… we wouldn’t know anything about that off the tops of our heads. That would be ancient knowledge… because the last time we would have contacted Devils is during the last opening of the Tree.”

The phrase catches my attention. “Tree? What Tree?”

“The Tree! The Tree of Qliphoth!” Even the name sends an unpleasant shiver down my back. “It was millenia ago… but the channel between this world and the underworld was opened, and Devils reigned destruction upon the Earth!” My other aunts nod along in unison. “However, I don’t think our history went back that far… we didn’t move to our island until after… huh…” Her brow furrows in concentration as I stare in shock, not sure what to make of this new information. The Tree of Qliphoth… that sounds bad. How come I’ve never heard of it before? If Devils really reigned destruction upon the world, that should be big news… unless it was so long ago that it was erased from written memory… and yet…

“So…” I catch the attention of my aunts once I speak again. “You knew that… you’re able to subconsciously delve into Simulcian history, right?” I smile a little, feeling hopeful. “If you remembered something about the Tree, then Simulcians must have been around during its opening, right?”

To my surprise, they shake their heads. “Not necessarily… I thought you would understand by now.” My aunt motions out the door, towards the time square. “Our power comes from our shared consciousness… her consciousness. She broke herself apart, but she still exists in us. In you.” She reaches out and grabs my shoulder. “Your Dyad… a Dyad concentrates the entire consciousness into two people. She was a goddess of fate, and her power concentrated fate into you and Julius…” Her voice trails off as she feels me tense up at the mention of that name. “I’m sorry-”

“No, no, it’s fine!” I shake my head and give her a smile. “Tell me more… do you think I could tap into that history?”

“Maybe…” Her eyes light up. “Maybe, if you get into a Septad, you can uncover the information you seek!”

Uh oh- The last time I entered a Septad, it didn’t end well… You probably remember. Well, if it’s the easiest way to get information…

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

I feel someone tug on my sleeve, and I look down to see Adeline looking up at me with concern. “Um… I don’t really understand what any of you are talking about, but… uh… is this… safe?”

… oh, Adeline… I don’t have any idea.

“Yeah, sure!” I give her a thumbs up. “I’ve done it before, don’t worry!”

Well, that’s not a lie.

Adeline’s worry melts into a smile. A very… cute smile.

She was worried about me…

“Good! I’m sure you’ll be fine!”

My aunts take my hand and drag me away. The rest of them have already stood up, clearing an area in the middle of the room. Six women already stand there, as if they knew what we meant to do. I recognize them immediately- they’re the six Simulcians that I was forced to synchronize with, to form a Septad. Just seeing them, and being close to them… I feel a spark of mana in my forehead, as if it yearned to be together with someone again… anyone. 

“...hi…” I laugh awkwardly as I shed my cloak and pull out my Grimoire. “Can I do it? So I can break it when we’re done.” I don’t expect to get trapped again, but I’m not taking any chances.

The six of them nod all at once, giving me identical smiles. These six were together for years, and now they operate like they’re all one unit. “Ok… let’s go then.”

My Grimoire floats up, and I utter the spell.

“Dyad magic… Septad Creation!”

All at once, our marks start to glow, and I feel the mana start to cycle around. Faster and faster, so fast that it seems to inhabit us all at once. It’s not nearly as powerful as a Dyad, but I still have to plant my feet into the ground and will my hands to keep from shaking. The other's eyes start to glow a whitish-blue, the same light overtaking my own vision. The room melts away, and then-

Darkness.

This place… is really the mind of an ancient goddess? I don’t get it… so she really did exist?

...are you here?

There’s not even a whisper of a soul left. Just an empty mind, pinned here against the tides of time and space, entrusted to a doomed race of people.

But… are there memories here?

The earth quakes, and I feel the bond start to slip.

What?! Already! I’m not that weak, I should be able to last longer than this!

FInally, the tremor stops. 

Good… now… someone…

Show me a Devil.

I’m not sure what I expected to see, but a scene finally fades in. I look around, spotting the setting sun over the mountains to the west. There’s buildings close by, familiar buildings.

This is… Raque?

But, there aren’t any devils here! This is modern day… I need something farther back in time! So-

I’m cut off as I hear a familiar voice.

“Look at it… the sea… it’s so beautiful.”

I turn towards the source, and spot two people sitting in the sand, staring out at the dark waves. The blackness of the water, so deep and mysterious, so cold… just like their identical black eyes.

This is… this…

It’s the Dyad. My grandparents. They sit here, hand in hand, staring at the sea.

What is this… are they supposed to be the Devils? Or is this something completely unrelated-

“Oh! Look!”

My grandmother’s gaze is caught by something to her right. She points, and both my and grandpa look.

“I see…”

A moth flits towards them, riding the sea breeze with delicate grace.

“That’s it then… it’s her.”

A moth… 

Simulcia?

The moth continues its slow approach.

“So… that’s it, then.”

My grandpa’s words echo in my ears. The scene melts away once again.

“Our fate.”

The void begins to shake once again. I try and reach out to the others as they tremble away from me, farther and farther, stretching our link so far it might snap.

Wait! What’s wrong? Why is this hurting you?

I can’t reach them. They disappear, and a blinding light shoots through my body.

I don’t understand… what was that supposed to mean?

I blink, and I’m back in the room with everyone. I almost fall over once my consciousness is restored, but Marx and Adeline catch me. “Oh god! Are you alright?”

“Huh? Yeah!” I nod vaguely in response to Adeline’s question. “I don’t get it though, I…”

My voice trails off as I spot the other six women. 

All of them have fallen to the ground, crumpled into little heaps. And each one of them holds their face in their hands, tears and sobs flowing freely.

I watch in silence, my mind reeling from this sudden turn of events.

Wait… so… the reason the bond was broken was because they were being hurt… not me? But why? 

One of them lets out a shriek, and inhuman, emotionless scream.

Why… w-why…

I know what they saw within me. They saw the void: a deep, insurmountable gap, one that I’m slowly but surely sinking into. A darkness deeper than any on this earth, a cold more piercing than a thousand knives. 

But… I don’t see it.

As long as I keep my sight fixed on the light above… as long as I keep moving forward… I will drag myself out.

So… for now… I won’t look down.

It takes a while for things to settle down, so we just sit awkwardly until the others stop crying and return to normal. “I’m sorry… we ruined that bond,” one of them says, glancing over at me. “I don’t even remember what was so sad… but all at once, I felt like I couldn’t breathe at all.”

“Oh… I-I’m sorry… I don’t know what that was either.” I smile awkwardly and glance at Marx, who still is staring at the ground with a pained expression on his face. Adeline still looks confused. “Well… I guess we shouldn’t try again?”

“I mean, we probably can.” Another one sits up to look at me. “But… we could all feel it; the storm of emotions inside you. You need to learn to quell that storm, to travel to its eye… only within that calm will we be able to fully sink into our consciousnesses.”

I feel a pang of anger. “Quell my storm? I don’t know about that, I think I’ve been handling everything pretty well, considering the circumstances, right Marx?”

There’s no answer. “Marx?” I look over to see him looking like he’s a deer in the headlights. FInally, he shrugs. Great… “ANYWAY- how am I supposed to do that any more than I already am?”

“Meditation!” one of my uncles pipes up. “If you do a little every day, you should be able to clear your subconscious before entering the Septad.”

“Ooh! I meditate all the time!” I look over as Adeline of all people speaks up. “I can teach you, I know I can!”

For some reason, that idea makes me a bit nervous. “Oh…. okay. Well-” I cross my arms and scowl. “I don’t know if it’ll be any help. It kept showing me a scene from just a few years ago, I need something from back when the Tree of Qliphoth was being opened!”

A few of the Simulcians exchange glances before looking at me again. “That might be impossible… you see, no matter how hard we try, it’s still her mind. She only shows us memories she deems important to us.”

“Important to us?! WHy- AH!” My bottled up frustration suddenly bursts out, for just a moment. I ball up my fists under my robe as I keep talking. “I don’t know whether to believe any of this shit anyway… I mean, it all sounds good, but really? A moth goddess is telling me that my grandparents’s little love scene is more important than the DEVILS?!”

My uncle shrugs. “I don’t make the rules… but the sooner you go back, with a clear mind, the sooner it will all be answered.”

I feel a hand on my arm, and once again it’s Adeline, giving me a calming smile. “I got this, okay? When I’m done with you, you’ll be able to do this with no problem!”

…

“You can do this! I know you can. You’re the strongest person I know, after all!”

For some reason, her words do the impossible. I feel a strange… peace within me. For a brief moment, the void ceases to scare me.

“...ok. I’ll do it.” 

I let out a deep sigh before looking back at my family. “Thank you… we’ll be back soon, is that okay?”

“Of course!” They all answer at once, a little enthusiastic. “We can’t wait to see you again!”

“Good!” I manage to smile. “Marx, Adeline… lets go.”

We leave soon after, but those brief moments within the Septad still stick with me. One sentence in particular circles my mind, the soothing, accepting tones of my grandmother’s voice springing up more and more questions in its wake.

“That’s it then… our fate.”

Next time! Chapter 9: the long night. Adeline begins her crash course in meditation, but derails it when she starts talking about the stars. Maybe... maybe there IS something special about her. :)

[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires 60

Title & Song: It Must Be Love

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Word Count:  5900+

Summary: Genevieve and Alfie escape the oppressive schedule and work of London for a holiday in Paris. The free time does them both good, as they find themselves both lamenting about each other and considering how their time would be best spent in Paris. They say Paris is for lovers...and it certainly would seem so.

Warnings/Tags: Language. FLUFF. Gen getting embarrassed. Memories. Alfie being a grump but trying not to be for Gen’s sake. Paris!

**Chapter song is It Must Be Love by Madness**

Click on my icon then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

It took plenty of planning and patience but surely with its practice you would be rewarded. You pack your trunks, you call your uncle Altar to let him know you’re coming to Paris and to send some of his workers over to your place. You’d have a driver, a cook and a maid to take care of you both during your stay. You take a boat first class, then a train of the same and arrive in your old home of Paris. Alfie tried to contain his complaints for he didn’t care much to travel but he knew it was important to you and he thinks of it as paying his dues before being rewarded once you reach your destination. By the time you're exiting the train, a cart with your trunks behind you, you're both feeling rather tired and grumpy.

"Oh there he is!" you say with relief as you pick up your pace to a boy that had driven you around last time in front of a town car of your Uncle's. Alfie is looking at his pocket watch and only half paying attention, just keeping his eye on you, following you as you moved like a frightened pheasant through the group of people. "Benji! Bonjour! Bonjour cher!" you say with matching kisses to his young and angular face. Benji was an errand boy for your Uncle, a strong and stout thing despite his baby face.

"Hello Lil- uh, Genevieve." he corrects himself with a laugh.

"This would be my dashing companion Mr. Alfie Solomons who will be joining me on this holiday." you say placing a hand on Alfie's shoulder to give him a supportive rub.

"'Ello lad. Benji, was it?" he gruffs out.

"Yes, sir." he says with a nod and polite smile. "We have your apartment warmed and stocked Genevieve. I'll put your luggage away, there are refreshments in the car." he says quickly before moving to your trunks.

You and Alfie take off your coats and sit inside the vehicle, yawns and stretches and bored looks on your faces. You see him watching the boy as he ties things to the roof after filling the back.

"This child is supposed to be lookin' out for ya?" he says with a quirked brow.

"Alfie, shush." you say with a weak pat to his arm. "He's a lot tougher than he looks. He helped me last time I was here. He's a sweetheart so be nice."

"But what if we run into trouble?"

"Then it's you, me and Benji, dear." you roll your eyes. "There are guns under the seat and men stationed outside my apartment. If you would PLEASE just stop being so uptight for a moment, we're here you can breathe now."  you say with an exhausted tone and an expression to match.

He lets out a grumpy Hmmph of a sound and sits with his bottom lip tucked under his mustache.

"Where would you like to go first Miss?" Benji calls from the front seat.

"To the apartment, please, I believe we're both in need of a rest after that trip." you say while side eyeing Alfie who returns the same glance to you. ------- Once he sees the nice street you'll be staying on, the men out front, the cautious but friendly doorman, his mind starts to ease. Inside there are two women waiting, both of which you greet with hugs and their first names.

"Would you draw us a bath please, Yoni. Then we'll take tea in the bedroom and have a nap." you say while your coat and gloves are taken.

Alfie's face softens as he sees your apartment, it was hard to remain grumpy in such a light and airy place. The white high walls with elaborate border, the tall and thin windows with billowing curtains from the wind from the balcony made it very pleasant. A view that would be even more stunning come nightfall to be seen from any window he looked. Everything was black, white and grey, all still elaborately decorated with filligree to your tastes, but it made the place feel huge and clean. A wall of heavy framed paintings went up alongside the stairs to the second level. There was a fireplace and a seating area adjacent a tall window, a piano, bookcase, and easel all sat in front of each other just left out of the small entryway. To the right, a kitchen that was concealed from where he stood, a small room he assumed was a bathroom and a dining table in the middle of it all with a chandelier hanging over it draped in crystals. The air is crisp and cool from the open windows, they must have them open to air out the place, he thinks. He stands and takes it all in before feeling you take his hand and tug him towards the stairs.

"Come love, let's wash London off of us and start on a better foot." you say with a subtle smile as he follows you up the stairs after a polite nod of greeting to the women.

You pull him into the tub, both of you enclosed in the marble tomb of the bathroom as your belongings are brought up the stairs. A closed window leaves room for the small fireplace to keep the room cozy. You both sink into the large tub, even larger than your one at home at opposite ends and soak.

With a lighter head and heart, leaving the residue of London behind in the oiled bathwater, Alfie finally speaks without grit in his voice. "Your place is lovely, Gen." he says in a breathy whisper, looking out over the city from above the roof tops of the shops on the streets surrounding you.

"Merci." you smile with closed eyes, head laid back on a folded towel against the lip of the tub, your hair piled on top of your head. "Are you feeling better Fie?" you ask with an indifferent tone.

"Believe so yeah. I hate travelin'." he mumbles, letting his head rest back like yours.

"I'm glad you are willing to sacrifice for me mon Fie." you chuckle.

"Hush." he laughs. "It's hard to leave the work behind innit? When I'm so used to lookin' over me shoulder constantly."

"I understand," you say in a sigh. "But we don't have to here. Breathe in that crisp air and exhale the London fog. We can relax now, Alfie. Let that grumpy exterior fade away. I want to have a happy bear the next few days, not a grumpy one." you say with a sweet tone.

"Happy bear, eh?" he chuckles again. "Since when am I a bear to you? First I'm hearin' of it."

"My big Russian bear," you say in a thick Russian accent. "So big. So strong. Much fur for little woman to stroke." you end the playful words with a giggle and you feel him kick your leg lightly. "What? You don't want to be my big bear?" you grin, lifting your head to find an amused look on his face, your voice back to normal.

"I ain't opposed to being your big bear but your accent is heinous." he lets out a loud laugh and you splash water at him.

------

You crawl in bed to nap, but a nap soon turns into sleep after you wake up and find the night settling in. The bed is comfortable and the fire is warm and the music from the street creates a perfect peaceful ambiance. You whisper and ask if he'd rather stay in, keep warm and rest more and of course he agrees. So your first night in Paris isn't exactly romantic, but a good nights sleep and a tight cuddle with no time limit did more good for you than a night out could have.

The next morning is spent waking up with a good, slow snog that was despertaely needed by both of you. You sigh and moan into one another, hands with simple and firm caresses against each other's warm skin under the soft covers of the white bed sheets. The sunlight pours in from the two tall, lean windows on either side of the bed. No one distrubs you, but the smell of breakfast soon wafts in from downstairs and you both feel the pangs in your stomach.

You both move slowly and relish in the fact that you can. Your eyes stay sleepy for far longer into the morning than they ever did in London. You perched in his lap to eat. He has a traditional English Breakfast and you have a Parisian one. Fresh croissants and brioche from the bakery down the street with butter, jam, and fruit juice. You take your cup of cafe au lait upstairs with you as you go to get ready for the day.  He sits and reads the paper, looks over the books on the shelves, the paintings on the walls and takes in the unfinished painting that sat on the easel of the skyline. He eventually makes his way upstairs after being told you were out of the bath and finds you perched in front of a large vanity, with clothes strewn about on the bed. With a kiss to the top of your head beforehand, he worldlessly makes his way into the bathroom. You pick your newest outfit, something you'd been looking forward to wearing that Freddie had sent you. And you were excited as always to push the envelope.

You come out of the bathroom in your new outfit. A fitted shirt, long sleeves, and trousers with wide legs, looking like a skirt almost nipped in at your waist. With a few buttons undone on your shirt, your hair pulled back with bejeweled combs, it was impossible to mistake you for a man but the feeling of wearing pants still gave you a bit of a sway to your step, even in heels.

"You...you wearin' that?" Alfie asks with a cautious tone, looking you up and down.

"Yes, Freddie sent it to me, isn't it wild?" you beam happily, putting on your jewelry in the mirror.

"It is." he nods, brow shifting in thought. "Trousers innit?" he says just to clarify in case his eyes were acting up again.

"Yes. They are so comfortable, my goodness. I'm warm and I can sit however I wish. Jealous you boys get them to yourselves, hardly fair."

Alfie knew he could be a bit old fashioned and being with a woman younger certainly made him more aware of this trait at times but you'd always been so distinctly feminine he never thought about you wearing trousers before.

"You don't like them, do you?" you ask as you turn, twisting your ring on your finger. He sees your bouncing chest with the loose neckline, the hourglass figure of the belted waist and he certainly didn't hate it by any means.

"I dinnit say that now did I?" he shakes his head. "I've never seen you in trousers before." he says with a higher inflection. "I've thought only women who wished to be men wore such things."

"Well now it seems menswear inspired is something many powerful women are embracing. I feel like Marlene Dietrich in these." you grin. "And these are Chanel for christ's sake, it's not as if it's not designer." you say with a hint of defense in your voice.

"I'm not critisizing, love, don't get in a huff." he says with a bowed head and outstretched hands. "It's just a bit of a shock. I've yet to find something you don't look gorgeous in, don't take it as an insult, it's not meant to be. If they make you happy that's what's important innit." he says, taking your hands.

"Yes it is." you give him a nod and side-eye him for a moment, weighing the words to see if they were true. "Good to see you can still be charming," you say in a softer tone, as he rolls his eyes at you as you tease him. You lean in to give him a kiss. "I feel lovely, you look handsome as always so let's go out and have a good day, yes?" you give him another peck.

He knows he's still trying to lose that hard edge, the habit of being miserable and he desperately wants to. He wants to be soft with you, have you swooning again and melting into his arms. So he tries to set the tone that you deserve. He reaches inside himself to pull out the man in love with this fiesty, vivavious beauty that stood before him, remaining herself and polite despite his poor form. It only took a few moments, seeing the shine of your eyes, the bounce of your hair and chest that made the scent of lavender fill his nose.

You see his eyes shift and feel him take a deep breath, you tilt your head up at him. "What is it darling?" you ask with a kind smile.

"You. It's always you innit, my love?' his voice is breathy as his arm wraps around your waist to keep you close, your rest your hands to his chest, caught by surprise at the affection but welcoming it fully.

"Is it?" you answer cheekily with a smile that he matches.

"It is." he whispers, a bejeweled hand moving your cheek. "What is it my little flower wishes to do today, eh?" he asks, thumb gently stroking your cheek.

"Anything with this charming man in front of me." you coo with a wrinkled nose.

"Ah. But she is a charmer herself." he brushes his nose to yours. "I'd love to go see your second home through your eyes today, my pet. Will you show me what you love about this place? Tell me how it molded you so I might understand?" he speaks softly and slowly and you're right back where you'd hoped this trip would put you.

He sees your eyes soften, then flutter as a loving glance is shared between the both of you. "I would love that as well." you repsond softly. "I'd like some basic merriment and money spending, then to go to the Louvre. It's been so long since I've been."

"Than that is what we shall do." he states matter of factly.

"As long as you don't make fun of me for crying at the paintings." you say with a bashful smile.

"I'd never." he says with a winning grin as he presses his plush lips against yours that connect you both back to each in the deep and adoring way that had alluded you in London.

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

You exit your apartment and elect to walk, You were close to so many bustling boulevards and avenue's that it would've been a shame to waste the cool morning air to the inside of a car. You introduce Alfie to the two men who will be shadowing you for the day, knowing it would ease his mind you'd requested them from your Uncle for the duration of your stay.

You stroll like two young pups in love, hand in hand down the streets that were well into being full of life at this point in the day. The smell of bread, meat, and wine move in phases as you pass cafes and shops. The artists and performers doing their song and dance on the sidewalks or arguing over movements in iron backed cafe chairs with passion. It made you feel young and full of dreams again. There was a freedom you felt in Paris you couldn't grasp anywhere else. Here you were always under the protection of your Uncle's last name, you were to be as opinionated and quirky as you wished. You were among artists, and that was where your heart lay.

You move to a quieter street, pointing to the shops and houses of friends and designers you knew from your previous life there. You didn't bore him with specifics but you let him know how much of your time had been spent with these people in these places, elaborating on why fashion meant so much to you. He'd never considered it art before but after your bright eyes and passionate words told him of your studies in fabric and paint alike, he understood how it could be seen as such.

You talking hadn't bored him but now he sat in a boutique, the only man in the place, he kept looking at his pocket watch in between you being dressed and undressed by posh employees. You would spin on a pedastal and ask his opinion and they were all favorable of course. Around the tenth gown, he felt a familiar twitch in his face, the tapping of his toes and he knew he would upset you with feigned interest if he stayed much longer. So on your next reveal, he politely asks to take his leave, stating he'd seen some places he'd like to go as you finished here.

"You can go whenever you like darling. Thank you for staying this long, I forget how terribly dull it can be for anyone besides myself when I get caught up in it." you coo with the same air you had on the night of your birthday. Regal and bestowing a blessing on him with your graciousness. "But tell me first, I can't decide between the blue or the red. Which do you prefer?" you ask, a slender finger pointing to two gowns that hung on the wall.

"Why not both, love?" he says with a cheeky grin, kissing your cheek. "C'mere Miss," he says, beckoning a woman closer who had been enthusiastically helping you the entire time. You had an air of money and upper class about you and he couldn't blame her for fishing for a strong sale. "Get this beautiful creature whatever she wishes." he says, laying a stack of bills in her hand. He could hear the mewls and gasps collectively from the women that surrounded him.

"Alfie, darling..." you purr and push your chest together, wrapping your arms around his neck from your raised positition on the platform. "You don't have to do that."

"Nonsense. I'm spoiling you, yeah?" he says with a sarcastic scolding tone. "You can have ya fun here and I'll go spoil meself in that watch shop we passed, eh?" he grins wide.

"You keep throwing around words like spoil along with that money you're going to make a woman accoustomed to such things." you giggle.

"It's been too long since we've lived a little innit? You deserve these lovely things for all the hard work you've been doin'. You need some new things to wear to your speeches and your fundraisers now, yeah? Can't have a rare jewel like you wearin' what everyone else is, can we?" he says with a charming inflection to his complimentry words.

"What a sweet talker the Paris air has brought out in you Mr. Solomons." you purr and pout.

"Or perhaps it's only you, sweetheart." he says with that same smile that still made your knees knock when directed at you, just as it had almost a year ago now.

------

He drops off his watch to be polished and cleaned, wandering into a jewelry shop with you in mind as it seems in customary in Paris for him to do now. Last time it was a bee that would've bankrupted an ordinary man. What would it be this time, he wondered? He walks slowly across the rows of glass cases, considering each piece with a poetic sentiment to tell you behind it. He recalls the night he gave you that bee. He was just as intoxicated by the look of revealing a gift to you as he always had been.

He remembers how you were just recovered from being attacked, just walking upright again. He remembers your delicate and slender neck as his fingers grazed the previously untouched skin. What a little kitten you'd been at that time, so soft and fragile while you'd healed. When he'd seen how resilient you were after the attack, staying strong and getting your house in order before finally letting your facade drop in front of him, he wonders if perhaps it was then he started to think of you as a prospect for a partner. He'd never seen a woman handle a situation like that the way you did. He knew a sound mind was required in his line of work and that in order to not feel like he was babysitting, his lovelife required a woman of such distinction. He scratches his beard and wonders if he'd already known he'd cared about you to such a degree. He'd bought the necklace to help cheer you up, a gift to celebrate a job well done with Abielle but, that wasn't it entirely was it. A striking, one of a kind woman deserved things of the same description and he aimed to give those to you if he could.

His eyes move over the lovely but common pieces. He should get something to signify your time spent here together. That would be appropriate, he thinks. He hadn't been neglectful exactly but he certainly felt he should be spending more time with you than he was. Especially with how early it was in your courtship. He was lucky you were so understanding and empathetic to his situation as women before quickly grew tired of canceled plans. He knew buying something was a mere patch on a situation but he knew you liked to feel special and giving you gifts certainly seemed to make you happy. And that was ultimately what being with someone was about wasn't it? Trying to work to keep each other happy. You held up your end of the deal, being understanding and not demanding things of him. All you'd really asked was for him to go on holiday with you and it wasn't as if this was a punishment of some sort for him. He knew he needed to make up for lost time, yet again.

With you on his mind, the sapphires catch his eye. At first, he considers a necklace. Perfectly reasonable gift, something that draws attention to his two favorite girls besides yourself. But his lips purse when he realizes that it wasn't just his attention that would be drawn to them. He huffs noisily out of his nostrils, shaking his head in reconsideration. Bracelet's perhaps, he ponders the shiny circles of gems. Allowing himself to get nostalgic as more memories come to mind. The one forming currently was the night he'd taken you to the opera. What an emotinally stirring night that had been for him. He recalls your dainty wrists drapped in gems over your black opera gloves, how they caught the low light and glinted as you held the viewing spectacles and trembled with emotion. That sinful dream inducing gown you'd worn had haunted him for weeks after. The tears you'd shed for the tragic lovers stole his heart that night. A softness to you he'd never imagined possible. Tears like little diamonds, shimmering as they fell down the planes of your heartbroken face. He must take you to the opera here, he thinks. He'd love to see that vulnerable goddess again. He sees a pair of sapphire earrings in a display. At the ends of round stones set inside diamond circles hang a teardrop shaped stone. Sapphire tears for his emotionally charged enchantress. Tears to wear to serve as a reminder you no longer had to let them fall for love lost's sake. By giving you these tears, he would offer to try with everything he was to not give you cause to shed them yourself. This is the gift to remember Paris with. He informs the jeweler of his decision and waits as they're polished and packaged.

He recalls Claire's warning of you not believing in romance and he feels a fluttering in his stomach. A subtle smile appears on his face, thinking of how he'd somehow, despite all his glaring faults had managed to capture the heart of a divine being like you. He hopes one day he can ask you how he did it, a question for a day after confessions of love he imagines. And what of that, he considers, his brow furrowing. He'd known he was a lost cause when it came to you for some time now, perhaps the first time he met with you he'd known somehow. Perhaps he'd only wanted it to be true then but as the rings in the case catch his attention, he can't help but wonder when he would tell you how he truly felt. He'd expressed plenty of things of magnitude to you and none of them were said casually. But the utterance of I love you was something that was supposed to be special wasn't it? Something you made time to discuss properly since it was only second on the list of heavy things you must face with someone. It sat between children and marriage and none of these things he took lightly. Besides his mother, there was only one girl, long before the war that he'd ever said such a thing to. But unlike then he was certain in more things in his life than he ever had been and you were at the top of that list. The rings sit and taunt him. Calling him a coward, they glint with winks that dare him to do what he should admit he's known for a long time that he wanted to.  They sing for him like sirens to allow himself to be swept away in it, to feel the love that you do in this city and to give you what you deserved and he craved Honesty and stability. They mock him to make another purchase for you in Paris. ------- You call to Benji who was sitting in a car on the street you were at. Under the instruction of Altar, he wasn't to be too far from you at any given time. He wasn't going to let something happen to his darling niece while she was on holiday. You have the boxes and bags put into the car, telling him where you were off to so when Alfie emerged he would know where to find you.

You trot into a women's delicate's boutique. Lingerie, leisure, and sleepwear in every soft fabric imaginable greet you as you hear a little bell ding with the closing of a door. You peruse, your fingers light on the sesitive fabrics. You chew your lip and consider what mood you'd like to set for your time here in Paris. You'd brought plenty of silk with you but the thought of new teases was certainly more appealing to you. You wanted to give Alfie something he'd never seen before, you wanted to feel as soft as a breeze and as beautiful as a sunset. Satiney bras laid out over matching tap shorts catch your eye, high side slits with lace hems to match, a different approach to your usual of wearing a skirt for easy access. Perhaps you should take to sleeping in these. They'd certainly be nice for summer. It wasn't as if you got to sleep in the same bed as Alfie that often anyway and you weren't opposed to buying something you'd only plan to wear for this holiday but you didn't know the next time you'd get to come to Paris, so you should just buy things for all seasons now shouldn't you?

A delightfully round woman breaks your train of thought as you hold a sapphire blue slip, a color that resounded time and time again for you and Alfie.

"Bonjour Miss." she says, clasping her hands in front of her as she looks over the piece you're holding.

"Bonjour." you sigh out with a smile.

Surely a smile of a new bride, the pink in your cheeks gives it away the woman thinks. "Visiting Paris for your honeymoon? Or picking out something for the husband?" she says with a playful chuckle.

You consider correcting her for a moment, opening your mouth to correct her but instead you find yourself displaced in time. Why bother to correct her? Perhaps one day you'd be back here, married and looking for something just the same. Except perhaps you'd be looking at the pieces in white. "We're here on holiday, yes." you say with a bright smile. "My ring is being seen to where he orignally bought it here." you start fabricating a story so quickly giving you a thrill you hadn't felt since your party days of lying and stealing from aristocrats.

"Oh lovely," she says with a nod, pointing to the pice. "How long have you been married Mrs.?" she inquires.

"Solomons. Mrs. Solomons." you say and a rather child like giddiness comes across your face. "Just over three months now."

"Oh new love," she says with a sweet lilt. "Looking for something to make the holiday special?" she says with a cheeky smile.

"Yes. That and I don't know when I'll be back as we live in London and he's a very busy man, so I'd like some pieces for other occasions as well." you begin. Before you know you know it, she's sizing and fitting you in corsets and you're talking about your wedding day. A chuppah covered in flowers, a dress so long you made a joke about having your siblings have more children just to carry it for you, a ring that could sink a ship it was so big. You carried on in your fantasy and you found yourself happier in it than any other you'd spun off the cuff before. Wouldn't that be lovely? You'd thought to yourself, stealing your own ideas from your fake wedding tales. You get light headed at the thought of walking down the aisle, of him certain and handsome at the end of it. You're own personal Yom Kippur, leaving the old life behind and starting a new one with this new joined soul. It certainly would be a wedding for the ages.

You leave with more bags and boxes to add the collection already in the car. You've stocked yourself up for the incoming warmer months and bought a few things to keep warm in the mild Paris nights. You'd left wearing new undergarments, black lace now sliding across your skin under your menswear inspired outfit. Alfie waits for you by the car, leaning against it and looking intimidating as always. You scamper across the street, hands straining with the handles of bags and his face shifts into softness from the frown as he sees you. Your hair and chest bounced, a shuffle of your heeled feet towards him as you greeted him with a lilt like a little bird, a peck to his lips.

"You've been busy I see." he grins, taking the bags from your hands and putting them in the car as Benji took a load to the other side.

"I have, darling." you can't help but wrap your arms around his neck, riding high on stories you'd spun for the woman in the store. The stories about being-

"Mrs. Solomons!" you hear called out behind you and your eyes go wide.

"You forgot this one. Can't forget this little number," she says with a wink, handing you a wrapped box. "Wouldn't want him missing out on this one." she tries to sell the surprise to your so-called husband. "And this must be the infamous Mr. Solomons. Lovely to put a face to the name, sir." she says with a small, polite bow. "You're very lucky. Your wife is a lovely woman." she says sweetly.

As the woman speaks, you feel the blush rising to your face and the heat of Alfie's taunting glare. You knew the bloody look he'd have on his face, you didn't even have to look. He'd caught you being naughty and now he would be giving you a mixture of a smirk and a grin that would pop the bubble of your fake marriage you'd been so happily living in the past hour or so.

"Yes." he nods, looking down at you, and you still not turning back to him but acting intersted in the box in your hands. "My wife is such a curious little creature isn't she?" he chuckles and you know the deepness of it to be teasing. "Such a vision sometimes I wonder how I did get so lucky, yeah? Sometimes I wonder if she's even real." you could've smacked him if you hadn't been the one being embarassed.

"How wonderful to hear a man speak of his wife in such a way. We should all be so lucky." she says with the purest of intentions. "Have a wonderful holiday, and congratulations on the marriage." she says, bowing out to scurry back to the shop.

You stand without speaking for a few moments, Alfie's face couldn't look more amused. He held in a laugh at the embarrassed look on your face he'd never seen before. Oh, how he wanted to tease you about this, to never let you live it down, as was in his nature. But the mood he was in from the reminiscing and thoughts he'd been contemplating while in the jewelry shop had him realizing another angle, the more touching one.

"And what was that...Mrs. Solomons?" he gets out before snorting out a laugh, he couldn't help it.  

You purse your lips and gather yourself, turning back to meet his eyes. "She assumed and I didn't feel the need to correct her."

"Mmm Hmm." he says, voice still full of tease. "Ya didn't, eh?" his laugh turns softer, handing the box off to Benji.

"No." you try to say with confidence and it fails.

"Genny..." he says with a deep voice, putting his hand on your face. "I've never seen you turn so quickly into a beet before." he says with a chuckle.

You shake your head out of his hands and push them down. "She thought I was on my honeymoon." you say with a whine to your voice.

"And are we?" he asks with a charming grin.

"No." you say, a smile now appearing on your face. "We're on holiday. You needed to get my ring fixed where you originally bought it." you start to snicker.

"You back to spinning your lies again? Being in Paris brings out your naughty side, does it?" He knew of your stories of lying, stealing and running cons on people in your youth. He loved the stories and the fact that you could, it was another thing he'd loved knowing you were capable of.

"I started and it just...kept coming." you admit with a bashful laugh. "Perhaps it is the city, making me want to act naughty." you shrug.

"According to her tone, you had intentions on acting naughty with whatever is in that box."

"If you're lucky." you taunt. "Perhaps what I already have on underneath this is naughty as well?" you say, pulling the shirt to the side just slightly, showing a black and lace strap.

"Lying and lingerie look good on you..." he says leaning in and kissing you. "Mrs. Solomons." he grins with a wrinkle of his nose.

"You aren't going to let me live this down are you?" you sigh against his lips.

"Not a fuckin' chance, sweetheart." he laughs and shakes his head.

@fangirlfreakingout @jaegeeeeer @cosettewinchester @lookuptheskyisfalling-blog @brianaisasongbird @cry5t4l-w4rri0r @iliveonchocolateandnetflix @jess2464 @hardygal69 @thegarrisonpublichouse @a-flock-of-angry-pigeons @pootle @negansdirtygirl22 @musingsby-night@wtf-is-wrong-with-this @shine-dont-shadow @inkinterrupted @vale0413 @lafayettes-baguettes-1 @sxlomons @aphnxrising @emerald-bijou @elaenom @give-jack-a-lightsaber @anrm1 @ultrablackwidower @tinastarkandco @arrowswithwifi 

[inkedtae]

rupture; rapture ⇾ kth. [M] | teaser

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ ex-boyfriend!taehyung x curvy!reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾  angst, smut, f2l(?), e2l(?), ex lovers au, rekindled lovers(?), sculputor au, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾  responding to a late night call for help forces you to revisit truths you so skillfully ignored. was it always meant to fall apart to fall back into place?

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ full: 20k | teaser; 1.2k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ slight upsetting themes, mentions of a new relationship, mention of infidelity (tae thinks reader used him to cheat on her date), mention and consumption of alcohol, switch!Taehyung, mullet!taehyung, sub!reader, [redacted] [redacted]!reader, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it), clay/paint/art sex(?), rough sex, hate-love sex(?), [redacted] sex (?), [redacted] kink, [redacted] (f. receiving), multiple [redacted] (f.), [redacted], overstimulation, a lil [redacted]-[redacted]ing, [redacted] worshipping, [redacted] worshipping, a lil [redacted] biting, [redacted]ing, [redacted]ing, [redacted]ing, begging, teasing, swearing

anon asked: taehyung19angst asghjkll. U have a prompt list ? So for that. Maybe. If u want to. WOW. Ur awesome. The bestest. Okay. Bye. Love. Me.

#19 ⇝ “You said you knew how to do this.”

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾  i decided to share an unedited teaser of what i’m currently working on

☾ banner by ⇾ @editingverse​ (thank you so so so much dear~ please go give her all your love!! this banner is beautiful!!)

☾ anticipated post date ⇾ 15 AUGUST 2020

☾ le playlist (coming soon...)

☾ tag list ⇾ open (leave a comment and/or send an ask to be added)

◖send me a prompt from dabble drabble. i will try to get to it as soon as i can. please note that i have the right to refuse any request i find uncomfortable.◗

Navigating to the chipped yellow door is second nature. Four months of distance does not change how easy it is for you to find your way to his place from across town. Your most haunting regret, however, is accepting his call. You sat around your apartment for months, fantasizing about how powerful you’d feel when your phone rings and you see his name flash only to decline the call. You told yourself that is how you will regain your dignity, how you will reclaim your life. He’s been a big part of it since freshman year. Best friends instantly, lovers only a year down the line. Clicking that red button, rejecting his apologies is how you believed you’d be able to move on and fully erase him from your life for good. 

But, when he does call, and you do not refuse. You don’t even think about declining at all. And then you hear his voice, and he sounds so unsure, so nervous. 

The shame creeps upon you, condescendingly soothing your ego. Where’s your dignity now? It’s as nonexistent as when you stormed out of this very door and swore never to return. You can hear the fates snickering now, watching your pathetic self stand outside of the door. Shaking out a shiver, you gather up the broken pieces of your courage and knock on the door. 

The screech of metal on metal echoes as he unlocks the door. The sound is more comforting than you expected it to be. You can’t remember the amount of times you’ve nagged him to replace the damned thing. It’s old, rusted, and the scratches of the metal made you cringe as though your bones are rotting. It used to make your jaw ache, now it only shudders your courage. Little things already undress your confidence. What will seeing him again do? What emotions will it beckon?

Misery leaks from your bones and into your bloodstream. The door opens to a vision of grace. In his clay-smeared jumpsuit, the sleeves wrapped around his waist and his bare chest exposed, he stares back at you. Though frozen from the winter air, you feel your face grow hot. Eyes shaking, you don’t know where to look. You’re not even sure if you can meet his gaze. It intensifies with every ticking second and his long bangs fall over his lashes. He let it grow out? You’ve begged him to do so for months and once you’re apart he finally gives in? You knew he’d look good, maybe even better than his shorter cut. 

The sight only confirms that you’ll never understand him. But, you suppose, you don’t have to. He’s not yours to understand anymore, not even as a friend. That statement should give you a sense of relief, but it only resurfaces the loneliness you’ve been ignoring for months. 

Shakily sighing, you plaster a polite smile and greet, “Hey Tae.”

Taehyung parts his lips, but his voice catches. He stares back at you, gaze dancing up and down your frame. He drinks in the way your black dress pants hug your curves, and how you dare to wear a tube-top under your coat in the freezing weather. Gulping, Taehyung flashes you a kind, tight lipped smile and moves aside to welcome you in. 

Each step back into his apartment fogs your mind with memories of joy and despair alike. Sometimes, those emotions rose in tandem during the same memory, within the same five minute time span. But other times, those memories are saturated with one emotion or the other. You two could never find that balance; not as lovers anyway, not as you thought.

“Make yourself at hom-” he cuts himself off just as the door shuts. 

You turn to face him, raising a brow at his slip up. Funny how things circle back no matter how much either of you try to suppress them. This place has always felt like home to you. In fact, revisiting it proves that it still does. He just never let you make it official. 

The gloom of four months ago has followed you back in here as well, it would seem. You gulp down the little scratch in your throat and try your best to flash a kind smile. His brows raise at the gesture. You assume a teeth braced wince paints your features instead. 

Clearing his throat, Taehyung corrects himself, “Comfortable. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab you a hot drink to warm you up.” His gaze shifts to the slanted window over his little studio sectioned in the corner of his apartment. “It’s really coming down out there.” 

Setting your clutch down on his work table, you nod. He glares at your action before looking back at you. You are fully aware of his distaste for you to dump your things on his work table, even if it happens to be your own sculpting supplies. However, he distrubed your date tonight and that little slip up of his recalls more anger than you care to accept right now. Playing into his pet peeves is the very least you can do to show him that you’re not here for anything else but fixing his sculpture. 

With a pleasant smile plastered on your lips, you peel your jacket off and set it down on the table as well. Taehyung sarcastically smirks then makes his way to the kitchen. You know you shouldn’t but you let your eyes linger on his frame and follow him around the kitchen while he prepares something for you. His shoulder blades flex as he reaches for a mug from the top shelf - a detail you always found makes you anxious because the cups can easily slip out of his hand from such a height and break. 

He must feel your gaze as he glances up at you. “You must be freezing,” he comments. 

Glancing down at your half top, you shrug. “Not really. That’s what a jacket is for.” You shouldn’t sass. It always gets on his nerves. But, with the way he regards you with such tamed hostility and smirks all knowingly, you cannot hold yourself back. He cannot expect to call you over here in the dead of night for help only to glare and sneer at you. 

Out of sheer spite, you sit on one of the stools by the table and bend down to untie your thick heeled boots. He absolutely hates this. Sloppy and messy, is what he tells you when you come into the apartment with your shoes on and take them off near his studio. Taehyung stirs the contents of your mug, tossing daggers at you in his stares. 

It is only now, in the thick silence, do you hear the soft voice of Sinatra through the vinyl player. Glancing over at the source, you recognize the album cover immediately. It’s the same one you gifted him for his birthday last year. His next one is in a couple of weeks. The realization unexpectedly twinges your heart with guilt. You feel as though you should have already bought his gift, planned his party. It is not your responsibility to do that anymore, but you want to and that’s enough for your tongue to coat with disgust and remorse. 

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.