#so this act of putting every ounce of our last effort into pulling each other from the brink of death is. good. :>

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

I've been trying for three days to try to start a piece about what happened in our last Curse of Strahd game and tbh, it's killing me that I'm struggling so hard to have a good angle to start from because I'm SOOOOO thrilled by the exact way that things shook out and I wanna!! talk about it!!! but in writing form so there's CONTEXT

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

oooh may i request eren with a female s/o who doesn't put up with his bullshit? Like when he gets jealous n stuff

So I turned this into a break up fic because why not!? I live to hurt my own self while writing. I was listening to Noir By Sunmi while writing this hence the title.

Pairing: Eren/ Reader

Tags: angst, breaking up, seriously angst, modern au

Warnings: mentions of jealousy, angst, seriously. Just angst.

Noir

There is a despicable attire masking the way you're looking at Eren. The feeling that's boiling in the depths of your chest as you're sitting across from him on your kitchen table is indescribable. It's mixture of anger and determination, merged with heavy specs of remorse, whether it is for yourself or him, you haven't decided yet.

Your reflection in the glass of the kitchen table is mocking you. In it you can see a few of the cupboards behind you, you can see your inox fridge that's decorated in numerous small polaroids and you can see your hair, being messy and tousled, just like it always is when you're staying indoors. But you- no, your face. Your face looks deformed and blank, lost in the aggravating aspects of an angered expression.

Setting your eyes to any where but Eren isnt a simple task. Rather, you find no interest in looking at the borders between the marble tiles of the floor. They were plain and annoying to look at, but if you could you'd pretend they could calm you down. Keeping your huff in though, you alternate your gaze onto the top of the counter, onto the tap of the sink. You squint, pretending to take a good notice of the forms that light reflects into the object.

"I just don't want other guys being too touchy with you." Eren groans.

"Aren't we over this?" You roll your eyes.

"Yes, just pointing out that you wouldn't like that either."

There he goes again and you can't help but immediately snap your orbs to his direction. You have lost count of how many times he has mentioned it in only the span of five hours. He mentioned in while taking a shower, he mentioned it while working out, be mentioned it while cooking yet you've chosen to ignore him. Yet you know that ignorance doesn't benefit anyone, ever.

And you shouldn't act as if you're surprised, especially since you haven't addressed this. This is Eren. This has always been Eren. Expressing your concerns to Eren about how you feel he should trust you more has never worked, why should it work now?

"Eren, I can trust you that you won't let anyone do that!? Don't you trust me?"

"Yes, but."

"But?"

"I don't trust what others want to do to you. And what if you give in? Did you just wake up one day and decided to just devote ourself to me specifially?"

Eren is bitterly jealous. There's this spite that's hiding the aqua lines of his eyes, this sour mood that he always carries around when he gets in it. This stops him from being able to eat even slightly to normal; his hands are nervous and sweaty, his fork is abandoned to the side of his plate, his thumbs tapping onto the flat sides of his plate as if he's waiting for a response. There's not even the hint of a crump going down his throat, more so there's not a single bite taken off of his sandwich.

"Eren no one was touchy with me. Jean, Reiner, Armin, Marco... these are literally our friends since school!" You speak, munching onto your own food.

"I know."

"Then? Want to talk about it?"

You hate the way you make it sound like it's okay to casually be tender to him when he's judging you but you've been munching onto that bite of your cold noodles for a long time now. Your throat is refusing to take down bites anymore in result of you having stuffed your mouth to the full. It's an effort to shush yourself, to silence that voice that begs to come out and speak words you might regret.

"It's just." Eren pauses.

And you wait for his words to come out. By tapping your own hand onto the the glass of the table, you fixate your gaze onto Eren's uncomfortable form. You watch as his face gets buried to the palms of his hands, you watch as he refuses to face you while he clicks his tongue. His foot is rapidly tapping onto the floor, his hair is being pulled back by his fingers. The loud exhales he takes are indicators to the heavy weight that's sitting on his chest.

"It's so hard for me because I imagine you being with others, I don't want anyone to get their hands on something that's mine. And it's driving me crazy (y/n)."

Out of spite you push your eyes to the side. Facing Eren isn't something you feel like you're free to do at the moment. It's horrendous that you have to answer to that. Your heart is alternating between hammering inside your chest and dropping to your stomach. Your mind is confused as to what you should begin to think, or say. This is Eren, you keep repeating to your self, your spongy brain though is refusing to believe it.

It makes you wonder; Is this a time to be kind or is the last straw?

"Eren this is destroying you isn't it?"

Eren nods and then hides inside the neck of his hoodie, he pulls his sleeves over his palms and brings his elbows to the top of the table, setting them down as he leaned his face into his now clenched fists. You take it upon you to swallow that amount of food that's in your mouth up until now and when you do it goes down your throat dryly, painfully even. Your eyes are somewhat stinging, tiny little droplets are already starting to form in their corners.

"I don't want to feel like this anymore."

"It's destroying me too. Your jealousy."

Your chest rises and falls, your eye brows furrowing paid fully over your eyes as you look down. You can feel the gaze that's fixated on you; Eren is burning holes through your form with his piercing gaze, even if you can't see it it's a fact that you can't help but ignore. You heart the clenching of your teeth as your jaw locks onto place, trying to salvage every aspect of what can be saved between you and Eren.

"Then what did you suggest we do?" Eren quarries with a soft voice, his arm reaching out to wiggle underneath the grip you have of your face and hair.

"I-"

Maybe you can try. Couples try and fight for each other. And then things are supposed to get better. When you're down he's supposed to help you reach the top and you're supposed to do that too. It just doesn't feel like that with Eren anymore. You feel like Eren is holding you back, you feel like he's digging and delving into the past in such way that present doesn't matter to him anymore. You hate to think that it's not healthy to stay with each other anymore. If you weren't so exhausted by this being your new reality, you would be willing to try.

Your hands move reluctantly from their grip on your head, your thumbs shivering as you moved then down and along Eren's cubits. You trace imaginary lines over his slightly olive skin. Your fingers, shaking as much as your thumb work into taking his hands on yours, as you're pressing your palms onto his knuckles slightly.

"Maybe we should take a break from each other."

Your lips feel lighter than air as you mouth the words, still you're more concerned about how Eren is taking the sentence up. It's not easy to digest; you moved your eyes onto his form and suddenly they're stuck there, that pained expression is suppressing your lips in a puckered state, harsh lines spreading all over the volume of your lips.

"I didn't say this for you to tell me that."

Eren throws his hands in a orbit that's years of light away from yours. He's not touching you anymore, and you lose every ounce of affection in your body. The stinging tears that had threatened to fall are starting to vanish, hiding inside the sponge tissue of the corners of your eyes. A shiver runs through you as you watch Eren's nervous foot stop it's rhythm.

"I know."

"I'm sorry. I've talked about this with you so many times. And I'm just not feeling like I can do this anymore. I wish I could fight about us even more, but I can't be the only one fighting. I feel horrible for saying this but Eren, saying this sentence felt liberating for me. I feel free."

"There's no need to explain yourself. It's fine. Fine. I made you feel this way and yeah." Eren bit his lip as he spoke.

"I didn't think we'd end like this."

"Me neither." He snarls.

"I'm sorry"

"Don't be." His nose scrunches as he sniffles.

His eyes trace the uneaten sandwich in his plate, then they followed a forbidden path to you. But before he meets your eyes, he snaps his gaze back to what he was originally eyeing to distract himself. He wants to lash out, he wants to shout, but for what he doesn't know. It is rather odd to just sprout nonsense to someone who doesn't want to be standing across from him just because his devotions belonged to them up until second day ago.

Thus he bites on the inside of his cheek, pointy teeth digging into the soft flesh with fury, opening holes that he knows will be a pain in the ass before they heal again.

Without him, you'll be free. The phrase is a loop that's repeating into his head like a snap to reality.

Eren watchea as you bite your top lip and push your chair backwards, prompting your self up and away from the table, with your lips pushed into a thin line. He can see that it feels like a walk of shame, from your point in the kitchen to the sink, the way that your feet sound when clashing with the tiles of the floor indicate your need to not disturb him further. As if you're pitying him.

Eren grows to hate the way your pity presents it self. As if he is sick. But you are right.

"I'll go to sleep to Sasha's tonight and I'll come get my stuff tomorrow." You announced, without ever turning to look at him.

If he can work on himself he can try to get you back, he thinks and sighs. Nontheless he refuses to reply; he hasn't been given a right to reply to such statement. He can only let you go, and try not to be swallowed by the suffocating thought of you moving on without him.

At least now you can be free of that.

Taglist: @sasageyowrites @levisbrat25 @puredivinity @ackermans-freedom-inc @callmepromise @nobody-knows-anymore @berrijam @lzrers

[nurseofren]

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 21 (NSFW)

Read on AO3

Read chapter twenty (NSFW)

Title: A Physical Reminder

Words: 7800

Summary: It's decided: today is the worst day to have ever existed, and it just won't end.

Warnings: Dubcon, Ruined orgasm, Torture, Body Mod, Semi-graphic descriptions of violence

ST Rambles: I've had this chapter in the back of my head for literal months and to release it after so long, to have it real and written, feels kind of surreal. For about a month or so I've been referring to this chapter as The Horrible Thing on my tumblr. It intimidated me to write something like this.

[MASTERLIST]

Stark was the contrast from this trip on the Command Shuttle from the earlier one; there was a silent alarm coursing between all that remained boarded, those who were instructed to stay put and keep the ship running so a swift escape could be made if circumstances changed. Four stormtroopers and a stand-in pilot remained with you, two men standing guard inside, two stationed at the ramp out of sight, the pilot pressing a code of buttons you didn’t have the knowledge to care about.

Sounds of battle tore into the ship, the harsh knowledge that destruction was ripping through whatever planet you were on making your chest tighter with each unknown boom or crash. The surroundings were new, though, too much foliage and scenery visible through the crimson transparisteel to be mistaken as Jakku. Taking into consideration the wooziness you’d experienced per seeing this morning’s escapades, saliva vacating your mouth at the memory of the man painted in orange fatality, you figured it would be a smarter decision to stay strapped in. This kept you from seeing the demolition ringing around you, but through the fury pigment of the windshield you saw the raw reality of crashing structures and fleeing crowds. With every scream, not knowing if they were those of the enemy – though that word meant little, if anything, at this point, your greatest foe being your very own Supreme Leader – or not, you shuddered into yourself, eyes kept strictly on your shoes while you attempted to tune it all out.

As war raged on you found yourself, once again, with too much time. Too much solitude. There was barely an effort made to keep yourself from thinking of Kylo, conflicted further with each digital reminder that time was passing too quickly. The nap you’d been woken from twenty minutes ago felt like a waste of the valuable resource. Though you knew he would have left no matter if you’d rested or not, you still felt guilty in taking a moment of peace; today was your last day with him and Snoke’s grip frayed your nerves further with each second, turmoil pooling into frigid pits while you tried to make every moment count.

While Kylo was away you found yourself watching your radar, the tip of your right index finger caressing the delicate face, tracing gently over his whereabouts. In the face of losing him you’d taken a new liking to the tech, feeling an interconnectedness even when you couldn’t see him. In some way it was a reminder that you still had around fifteen hours before you’d lose him, a tangible symbol of your dwindling hope, each patterned flash between the hours and seconds working to dim your outlook.

Far away a cascade of blaster firings sounded, tongue locking between your teeth as you strayed from imagining the lives involved. Even surrounded by catastrophe one thought was coarse in its existence as you analyzed every interaction you’d shared with Kylo this morning; after he’d told you to get dressed and ready to go, you expected, however naïvely, that he’d wait for you to gather yourself. A part of you withered when you heard the elevator leave not a second after you’d crawled out from his covers. You knew he was unaware of how crippling time was right now, but the mindless act sunk into your bones, a sucker punch to your already fracturing heart.

“So you actually saw the escape?” One of the stormtroopers spoke, regarding the one opposite him. They had been speaking for a while but only now did their conversation interest you.

“Yeah.” the second white-armored guard shifted in his stance. Though you could only see his boots you knew that this gave him pride. “One second I was just manning my station and then this TIE goes off the rails, pulling on its docking chain like I’d never seen.

“And it’s been confirmed that Ren’s prisoner was the one who stole it?”

“Ha, yeah, but the real story is how he even got the chance.”

Another crash came, neither of them bothered by the flood of screams that followed it. “Wait, I think I heard something about this before we left for Takodana. It was a pilot right? The traitor?”

“No, man. It was one of us. A soldier. A brother. Sick isn’t it?”

“But if the traitor was one of our own… how’d they escape if neither knew how to pilot a TIE?”

“Well obviously one of them did or we wouldn’t be in this mess, would we?” The one being questioned was growing tired of it.

There was a short pause between the two, neither knowing whether to bother to continue the discussion. An influx of commotion came into hearing distance; grunts, explosions, and weaponry all creating a disjunct melody of mayhem while you remained the only passenger amongst the four to notice the rising urgency growing closer with each second.

“Yeah, well,” the first said, “at least we’re not in the mess, right? Better to man the ship than to be the one defending it?”

The second soldier was no longer enjoying the other’s company, tone becoming increasingly curt. “The Captain assigned me to Ren’s detail six weeks ago. Out of nowhere. To say I’d rather get shot at out there than ever have to babysit this ship again would be an understatement.”

“Hey! It’s not that-,”

The first soldier’s recoil was barred when familiar footfalls came into earshot, heavy boots falling against the thick metal of the on-ramp stealing his words and replacing them with an interrupting chaos. For the first time since watching him leave the ship you looked up from the floor, fully anticipating his fists to be in some entanglement of rage or stress. But they weren’t. Actually, his fists were nowhere to be found, his hands too busy holding the limp body of a tatter-wearing stranger. He stood at the threshold and regarded the pilot, your only focus keeping steady at the way his gloved fingers bit into her knee, an unfounded pang of hurt skipping into your pulse as you remembered he’d held you just the same only hours prior.

“Set course for Starkiller. Instruct complete retraction to all active units. We’re done here.” Kylo was all business; cold, corporate words to match his tone before he turned toward you.

This was something you’d never planned on; seeing him with another woman, no matter how rugged and grimy she appeared, brought conflicting emotions. On one hand your first inclination was to hate her, to assume she was the enemy and that she deserved what was coming to her, to see her in the worst light as a part of you still held a hopeless claim on her captor. The other part of your brain, arguably the more logical and caring portion, felt that same bit of ill-placed fear as you had for Dameron. The news that the prisoner had escaped had brought you a peace you shouldn’t have felt, one that would be noted as treasonous just as your fear for him had been earlier. Now, that fear refreshed itself as you caught view of the girl’s lifeless face, training taking over as you took two seconds to find her chest moving at a steady pace. She was breathing. She was alive in his arms, lips parted as unconsciousness draped over her.

The engines roared beneath your feet, pitching upwards as the final crowd of passengers flooded in behind your Commander, all of them racing to strap into the chairs lining the walls, the ramp ascending and sealing the ship before it latched with a click. Kylo made no such move, his stance staying put and steady as the ship rocketed into the bright sky, the Force keeping him upright during the propulsion. He stood analyzing you as you were him, his stare evident and concentrated through the helmet, the cowl adding another layer of mystique to his already intimidating appearance. Your attention had barely left the girl, an obvious effort to not feel the jealousy you knew he would sense burning beneath your skin while he observed you.

For some reason her presence irked you, dug claws into your restraint as you fought to control your emotions. It’s not like it would matter if she was anyone important to him anyway; in a few hours you wouldn’t be, so what purpose was there in hating her? What point was there to feeling anything for him anymore if it would all be worth less than nothing by the end of the day? There was none. No point or purpose to allow this stranger any influence over you. Although the longer you stared at her, examined her through the eyes of a person and not a nurse, you lost more and more resolve towards letting her presence get to you.

A madness rose just behind your eyes, not yet seeping into your demeanor but residing just enough to keep you from caring too much about her. It was not like you to wish harm on someone, and you weren’t entirely, but, in comparing your regard towards her to that which you had for Dameron, you found yourself simmering in a state of envy. Kylo had once called you a nobody, no matter how rooted in anger it had been, but for him to treat this person, this nobody, with the gentleness he’d only shared with you this morning? You wanted to scream, wanted to rip into him every ounce of petty rage the sight was causing you.

“Officer,” Kylo said, head tilting just enough to clue you in to the warning the notion was.

The Command Shuttle left the blue atmosphere and was once more swallowed by the black of space, stars zooming past as you finally looked into his visor. Under his stare you felt your shoulders relax, let yourself breathe as you caught onto the fact that you’d been displacing your anger on the innocent girl. What you felt while looking at her was jealousy, you couldn’t dismiss that fact, but while peering into his visor, feeling his eyes so intently on yours while he kept your gaze, you realized you only felt it because of the truth that awaited you in the pressing future.

You would never be held by him in such a way after today. Never again would you feel his arms around you. This envy was rooted in the fact that you had been her, but you would soon never have the chance. And in meeting him through the mask you dissolved the feeling. What a waste of the remaining time you had with him to care about someone so foreign and superficial to your life. He was here now, even if just to set eyes on, and you were determined to keep him from observing your spiraling any further before you had to drown him in it. Neither of you deserved to feel time’s bludgeoning presence, but you settled on bearing its weight yourself, sparing him until the final moment.

“Master,” you said back, head falling against the durasteel while you allowed one full sweep over his impossible frame, careful that no hidden heads were looking your way before permitting the faintest quirk of your lips. The gesture was for him, hoping he’d be thrown off the trail of your uproar of emotions even in the slightest way.

When the docking bay came into view, the floor growing closer as the ship settled into its landing, you found it difficult not to think about how different you’d felt when leaving here this morning. After receiving the alert for the departure you’d hurriedly gotten dressed while dreading coming into contact with Kylo again, settling on the fact that it would be easier to lose your trial than to live a life with him. Another twinge of regret wrapped your lungs in jagged constraints when thinking about the time you’d wasted, though you couldn’t have known then. There was so much misery twisted into you, anger you thought belonged to your Commander, rage you’d learned had nothing to do with him.

As the engines settled and the ramp descended once more, you watched distantly as blurry white figures moved about and away from the ship. In their vacating you knew that time was wearing on, felt it wrap tighter around your heart while you listened to the unmistakable footsteps of your Master wander off into the distance. Clasping your palm around your watch you kept yourself from checking, knowing it would only frighten you in its ever-passing reality. Time had become an overwhelming factor in your knowing Kylo; it was now a catalyst to both your introduction and your severance. However devastating, you still didn’t wish to take any of it back.

After undoing your safety harness and standing from your seat you went to exit the ship, your phone buzzing at your hip just as you stood centered under the threshold. It was Mason. Another reason for the current glut of guilt accumulating in your stomach. With an anchored lip, teeth threatening to draw blood, you accepted the call and all that it entailed, half-thankful for another opportunity to delay Snoke’s task.

“Mason, look, earlier… I wasn’t. I hadn’t. I just got back from—” slowing down and taking a breath, you searched for the right phrasing that would reveal just enough to quell his impending interrogation “—I’m sorry for my outburst earlier. I haven’t been having the best day. Work stuff, you know.”

“I do know, young officer.”

Frozen in place, blood turning to ice, your eyes fell from focus and you stumbled left towards the support of the hatch’s frame. The slithered, malicious tone was engrained into your soul, its sound now too familiar and fatal to be mistaken. Snoke sounded far away, voice too echoed for him to be holding whatever contact device he was using. Panic planted new thorns in your stomach at the realization that Snoke was calling from Mason’s phone.

“If he’s already dead you have nothing to bargain.”

A low roll of what sounded like tainted amusement rattled through the electronic frequency. “Don’t worry, here he is now.” A muffled shriek sent your hand away from your ear, agony ripping through Mason, his face vivid in memory of the first time you’d heard him like this.

“I haven’t gone against you!” Spit sprayed as you spoke through gnashed teeth, Mason’s cries turning into distant groans. “Let him go or the offer-,”

“The offer isn’t yours to bargain, stupid girl.”

“The stupid girl found a loophole in your plan, didn’t she?”

Another stream of cries filtered through the phone, hand clasping around the hard edges of the threshold. “For some reason I believed you held this physician to a higher esteem,” Mason pleaded your name in a thrashing tumble of suffering, “my mistake.”

Mason only grew louder as Snoke paused to let you hear him, to let you listen to your own doing. You knew what Snoke wanted and how to make him stop, your eyes closing in defeat while you swallowed what remained of your resolve.

“Tell me what you want, just stop hurting him.” Life left your voice, failure and shame prickling into your eyes.

“The only thing that’s changed is the timetable I offered. Your little stunt has worked against you.”

“When? How much time do I have?” A stray tear fled salty over your tongue, teeth trapping your quivering lip.

“You have exactly sixty minutes to keep your end of the deal. Consequently, that’s the same time your friend will cease to exist should you fail.” There was a cruel amount of pleasure and matter-of-factness coiled into the mention of your failure.

“I don’t know where he is, and I doubt he wants to be interrupted with whatever he’s doing.” The stranger’s face passed momentarily through your mind, imagining she had the same fate as the prisoner.

“For your friend’s sake, as you’ve offered no notion that you care for your own life, I suggest you find him.”

“You’re sick, you know that right? Doing this? Hurting him this way?” Your watch read a quarter till nine, steps leading you mindlessly down the ramp and into the bustling Elite center.

“Maybe. Though, I’m not the one hurting him, am I?”

Hauntingly low laughter overlapped with your frustrated growl, feet stomping in no particular direction as you scanned the room. “Fifty-nine minutes now, officer. I’ll be expecting your call, though I am sure I will know when you have completed your task.”

The call ended before you had the chance to scream at him, though it would’ve attracted more attention than you wanted right now. Shoving your phone back into your front pocket, the seams nearly busting at the force, you threaded both your hands into your hair, clutching at your scalp as you walked in circles in an aimless attempt to find Kylo, not remembering which direction he’d gone when he’d left the ship.

The only place it made sense for him to be would be in an interrogation room, but you didn’t know where those were on Starkiller. Anxiety rippled in hot waves down your spine, pulse quickening as you looked down to find you’d spent two minutes pacing about in indiscriminate paths.

Realization hit you. “Okay, I deserve to die for being this fucking stupid!” Holding your left wrist up you watched the radar grow and shrink in distance, making a few confusing laps until you found the direction which indicated you were heading in his direction. The watch had only been a hinderance until today, and you were finally using the advantage it offered.

Racing past the faceless soldiers, looking side to side as they observed you with confusion, you kept focus on the red radar, feet moving faster the closer you moved towards him, not paying attention to where your legs were leading you. A few stormtroopers tried to chastise you, yelling for your attention as you ran past them. But you could hardly hear them over your fumbling thoughts, trying to piece together a believable performance to try and convince Kylo you wanted to quit.

Every phrase that came to mind met you with a crippling sense of fraudulence. Your time with him this morning, the purposeful portion you’d taken to be with him before it was too late, was now backfiring. How could he believe something that would so blatantly sound like a lie? There could be no conviction when there was no truth to prove in the first place. Why had you done this? Even if he did believe you, you’d cause more pain than you intended just by allowing him to come so close to your heart, to see in your eyes and hear in your praises how much he meant to you.

He knew the real truth, felt it as your tears streaked down his back, though now you felt exceedingly grateful you hadn’t verbalized the depth of it. In all of this you had to remind yourself that you weren’t the villain, that you were protecting your friend and saving your career, but it was impossible to see it that way when guilt tugged at each stride. With each pace you questioned your speed, conflict obvious in understanding you were on a timer while also acknowledging you were running headfirst into heartbreak, catalyzing the inevitable with each new hallway you turned down.

This would be the worst thing you’d ever do, no matter if you died today or next week or in a hundred years. To hurt another person – chest tight when remembering you’d so often questioned Kylo’s humanity in the beginning – so entirely was in complete opposition with who you had become; your position was to heal him and provide a sense of safety to aid in that process. Now, as you started down a heavily populated hall with display screens mounted above each doorway, you found yourself running to do the exact opposite, racing to harm him and steal the security he’d entrusted you to offer.

Two stormtroopers stood guard at one of the doors to your right, blasters at the ready while their voices became clearer with each distance-stealing stride.

“Dude, I’m just saying it’s not that bad being assigned to Ren’s detail. Actually, I’m glad the other guy got booted, he seemed… off to me. Like he didn’t-,”

“Okay! I get it! I don’t want to hear about-,”

The two men stopped talking when your hands met your knees while you fought to catch your breath, sloppily checking your watch and finding you had fifty minutes before the clock ran out. Swallowing, gulping for air, you pleaded with them in harsh, simplified requests.

“Mas- Commander. Ren. Where. Now. Tell me.”

Coming up from your knees and wiping your forehead you saw them look at each other, considering you in the current state of chaos in which you resided. Staring between them and your watch, you grew impatient.

“Seriously. I need to speak with him. Now!” Desperation cracked your voice, heart torn between saving Mason or sparing Kylo, each holding an equal portion of it.

The first one, the talkative one, began to speak, his automated voice fading just as quickly as it had come before both of their heads turned to their lefts. They quickly stood to a higher degree of attention, the action bringing you a heady sense of déjà vu from graduation. Solace and suffering struck you as your pounding head stopped to listen for the approaching footsteps, contradiction dizzying you before you turned to face him.

He was still masked but the cowl was resting in a collection over his shoulders, hands relaxed at his sides as he stepped closer. You didn’t know what to say. Nothing came to mind as you stared pleadingly into his visor, wishing that somehow he could hear your thoughts instead of just feel your nerves.

“I need to-,”

“Speak with me. I heard.” His words were clipped, the stress of the day sinking into his tone.

“Okay, well I have to-,”

“You’ll have to wait, I have more pressing matters to attend to.”

The door between the soldiers hissed open before Kylo stepped to enter into the room, your heart heightening to an unimaginable pace as indecision and time stabbed into your lungs. A flash of time, a flicker of Mason’s face, an echo of his screams – all these things amplified in your mind in a split second. This was it. It was now or never. No more waiting, no more delays. Despite every effort, you had to accept the truth: Mason would die if you failed Snoke, but Kylo would live regardless.

“I quit.” Quick, short, and loud was the statement, tight fists balling at your hips while your eyes shut in defense.

The hall lulled in its buzz, voices hesitating as you felt the eyes of countless strangers fall on every part of you. To match their vacant voices was the sudden disappearance of any footsteps. In your purposeful blindness, you knew the words had stopped Kylo in his path.

Swallowing, taking a slow, superficial breath, you looked at him. His body was half turned toward you now, fingers flexing apart and then winding together. With every word you began to drive the knife deeper into his soul. The blade was double edged, though. “I ha… I have to quit. I’m quitting.”

The onlookers went back to their business after five silent seconds, their own worlds still spinning no matter if yours was soon to be thrown off its axis. Kylo turned so his whole body faced you now, slow, harrowing steps carrying him closer. The helmet at his shoulders was an eternal hinderance. Even when his face was visible you struggled to get a sense of what he was feeling. But you could only assume, could only anticipate, there was a new foundation of confusion or doubt moving the tiny muscles of his face.

“Officer, we will discuss your employment later. For now I advise you to return to your residence.”

“There is no later. I ha…” No matter how many times you attempted to say the three words, the second would always falter before completion. “I’m done. I’m quitting.” Your eyes hit the floor, reflection mocking you in your pitiful attempt towards conviction. “I quit.”

Kylo’s vocoder crackled out a huff of exasperation. His head turned to address the two men standing guard at the door, a hiss sounding as it latched shut again. “Remain here until I return. Update me if the Scavenger’s status changes.” His visor returned to you, staring for a moment too long before he walked past you with the silent expectation that you were to follow.

Passing down two more hallways, taking one left turn and a right, you grew in terror with every stride, noting the diminishing timeframe at your wrist every ten seconds. There were far less people in the first hall, and none in the second. A door came into view, its frame fortified and industrial, the display screen above it turned off – or dead, as the surroundings appeared to be that of a decommissioned sector. With a harsher than normal sound, it slid to the left to allow entry, Kylo stopping just before he entered to allow you past him. He was analyzing you, undoubtably, and you coveted his ability to keep his intentions hidden so well.

Soft, cautious steps filled the quiet of the dank room, the overhead light flickering when it came to life, a fluorescent buzz adding to the symphony of silence. In the center was the same apparatus that Dameron had been positioned on, this one much less agile looking, its fixtures outdated and dust-covered. Neglect was evident in the way the entrance shrieked shut at your back. With elbows bent and fingers locking together just below your ribs, you kept your face from him, keeping a watch on the time. You needed to do this, but how?

Kylo was a predator when he needed to be; watching he prey from a distance, keeping his steps light and thoughtful, getting just close enough so you weren’t entirely sure how near he was behind you. Though, currently, you felt more like the hunter; alone with him you waited to strike on an unsuspecting victim, not entirely planned or strategical, but nevertheless predacious.

He wasn’t talking. And you couldn’t bring yourself to say the horrible things Snoke had instructed. You were at a standstill, not knowing how to move next, not wanting to move at all. But you had to, you knew this; the absence of a path that offered peace for either party was the foundation for your hesitance. When you left here, the only person to benefit would be Mason; a third party you so desperately regretted roping into this.

His draught of words charged your nerves; he didn’t know what he was waiting to hear, he couldn’t know – that was the fact that made this all so terrible. The pain you were feeling was the same you were meant to poison him with; it was purposeful and calculated and cruel, just like its perpetrator. But you were the messenger, and to be killed would be preferred to the latter of delivering words you knew bore the explicit and extensive intention to harm their recipient.

“I quit.” No other words would form. None that wouldn’t sting anyway, so you just kept repeating the two, hoping you’d finally accept them or find some inkling of truth in their outward expression.

“I heard you the first three times. I just don’t know why you’d say it at all.”

He was asking for the falsehoods you were avoiding speaking, simultaneously stalling them and trying to gather the will to say them. This would hurt him no matter what. Time would only run out and harm both of the people you loved if you didn’t do this. Sparing one for the other felt hopeless. It was.

“I hate you.” Three flat syllables fell in pattern, their existence stoic and empty.

A static cloud of incredulous amusement left him. “No you don’t.”

Turning in sloth, you leveled your features, bluffed stoicism crowding your eyes in hopes it’d form your own mask. Unblinkingly you stared into his visor, trying not to bite at your cheek, hands coming down to relax at your sides. “Why wouldn’t I? I have every reason and right to.”

Leather squeaked out of sight; it appeared your façade was working. “Maybe you should. You don’t, though. You don’t even want to.”

“You can’t tell me what I feel. I hate you.” Each repetition was an attempt toward belief.

“Fine,” Kylo said, challenge evident in his tone while he took a step forward, your ankles catching on the bottom of the angled table. “The least you could do is try and prove it, as it is nowhere to be found in either your words or your presence.”

“I don’t have to prove anything.” There was an arsenal you could draw from, weaponized sentences that would floor him, that you knew could convince him. All of it had been true, or remains true, but you didn’t want to use any of it. He didn’t deserve this at all. It was excruciatingly unfair.

“You aren’t ignorant to the fact I can feel everything you do. Why are you lying to me?” He was growing increasingly frustrated.

“What would I gain from lying to you, Kylo?” Only the life of your closest friend, but that’s all. “Have you considered I’m just now telling you the full truth?”

“I don’t consider absurdity,” your name gritted through the vocoder.

“What is so absurd about me hating you?” Shifting barely, you grappled for the wrist restraints for support, steadying yourself, looking up to him through two masks, only one hidden. “You’ve only ever hurt me. The only nice thing you’ve ever done for me is have that termination notice signed and ready to go.” Each word was a dagger to your own heart, no matter if he was convinced yet.

A pointed indication that your coaxing was working, however ashamedly, was obvious in his statuesque stature. Kylo was crowding you, your chin grazing his chest with each brusque breath he took. This was torture; this was true agony, wrathful and writhing as it thrashed against your soul.

Everything in you was adamant in its desire for him to keep his face hidden; the last thing you wanted was to see his expression right now, to watch all you’d built with him tear down in seconds.

“I signed that as a requisite to your assignment. Should it have been necessary it would’ve been available for your immediate termination.”

“My immediate termination,” you recoiled, taking in stride his answers to avoid hurting him. Angering him was an easier route. “Ever since the beginning you’ve doubted me, I swear.”

“It’s never been necessary!” He was beginning to believe you. In your chest you felt your heart splinter.

He took another step forward, bumping you back onto the table, feet catching on the ledge as two metal restraints came over your ankles, eyes wide and flat while you drowned in the immensity of his presence.

“What? Are you gonna hurt me again? Strap me in and torture me because I don’t want to be here anymore? That will only make me hate you more, Kylo.” You swallowed, locking your tongue to the roof of your mouth to keep your chin from betraying your true feelings.

“You don’t hate me!”

“Yes I do!”

In a storm of black, his arms flung upward and tore the helmet from his head, throwing it so it crashed with a riot of fury against the wall, a dent no doubt left in its wake. Two gloved hands came warm and quick over your cheeks, pulling you into his face and drawing you to his lips. There was need obvious in his attack, his fingers quite literally locking you to him. He caught you off guard, your mouth moaning with his same fervor in the first half second of connection. But you couldn’t do this, allowing it would only cause him more pain.

“Kylo, no,” your hands twisted bruises into his wrists while you tried to pull him away, trying and failing to ignore the etherealness his touch inspired. “We can’t- I can’t do this anymore.”

“Why not?” His body pressed into yours, the angle of the table allowing you to feel his weight, relish in his size. He wasn’t listening to your direction, completely lost to his own agenda to convince you of what you already knew.

“Because I don’t want to.” He felt so good, home and comfort blatant in the effort it took to pull away.

“Really?” One of his hands clutched into your hair while the other raced to lift your skirt, dipping into your panties and pushing two fingers into your slit with ease. “You’re lying!” He growled, his hand’s presence forcing another moan, pleasure twisted in your core when an accidental buck dragged his fingers closer to your entrance.

“You disgust me!” Insults were your next line of defense, petty and pointless as they were.

Kylo grunted, the seams of his gloves teasing your core. “I disgust you, huh?” The thick digits hooked into you, a shudder of breath coming with their arrival. “Is it how I can make you cum harder than anyone you’ve ever been with?” The firm pad of his thumb found your clit, raised and ready, and he began winding into it, bolts of seething joy igniting as he brushed over it repeatedly. “Disgusting how you’ve never wanted anything more than this—” his tongue slid onto yours, nose panting gusts of lust onto your cheek while his fingers began pumping into you –” how you need it? Those were your words right? Earlier?”

He wasn’t fighting fair, and you supposed you weren’t either, but you were the one with the hidden agenda. Kylo was bearing it all while you worked to conceal the pain it brought you to tell him these things, the way every second brought you closer to saying the words you knew would tear through him just as they had done to you.

“You’re so fu-full of yourself—” your head glittered while you sunk into the grip of the climax you felt coming, teeth clamping together and blocking his tongue from yours. “How would you even know if you were the best I’ve had? Take a look in my head, I’m begging you to find you’re wrong!” It was a way of pleading for him to go digging so he could see Snoke, half hoping he could at all when you remembered Snoke’s act of torture when you first stepped before him.

Kylo had tunnel vision, lips pressing into your jaw when he couldn’t lust after your tongue, fingers working you faster, harder, knuckles skating in and out with a delicious friction. Release stuck in your throat and burgeoned in your belly, an unmistakable glow festering into fruition.

“Why should I waste my time when all I’d find is how you think endlessly about every encounter we’ve shared?” His cockiness almost brought a smile to your face, and you were sure he could feel that strike of glee that encouraged it. “You’re going to cum for me like the slut you are—��� it was chaotic, the spiral of pleasure he was twisting into you, your nerves shining for him with every purposeful movement of his hand “—and then you’re going to go to your residence and wait for me—” a falter of reluctant, stifled groans fell unbidden from your agape mouth “—so when I get there I can give you the time needed to drill into you—” he sucked at your collar bone, canines biting into the taut skin and your back arched into him “—that I know you, I feel you, and you’re an awful. Fucking. Liar!”

Holding on by the last thread of resolve, you gasped and gulped. “You ruined my life.” He wasn’t going to allow you to do this without hurting him. “You nearly killed my friend. You took my free will.” All of this was forced through a tight jaw, your hands prying him from your neck so you could stare into him with the power you needed to strike him down.

Looking deep into his eyes, savagery etched into his visage, you brought his face closer so his nose nearly touched yours. Sweat was dripping down your forehead, slipping beneath your thighs on the now slick metal, your throat swallowing back spit while you sharpened the daggers you were about to send through him. Maybe not entirely conscious of it, his hand slowed, your release faltering and diminishing while you stared through him.

With the flattest possible expression, focus fuzzing purposely as to not see the damage you were about to cause, you held him entirely with just your eyes. There was something you couldn’t place just below the surface, its presence aching and sharp while you watched his lips attempt to mimic the stoicism of your own. Nearly imperceptibly, his chin was quaking; unsure if it was from a stressed jaw or from that sharp emotion stabbing into you, your blurred vision caught the red face of your watch in its periphery. Time was draining. This was it.

“Kylo,” you began, your other hand reaching to clasp around his forearm, knowing hearing his name would make the cut deeper. Permanent. “There is nothing you can do, or say, or force that will ever change the fact that I hate your very existence.” You swallowed, hoping your fear felt more like rage. “Everything you do – killing innocents, hurting the people I love, stealing my free will – and everything you are is a wretched scar on my life.”

Every single sentence went right through his back and stabbed through to your heart. It was miraculous, yet disturbing, how your voice had fallen into winter so easily. Guilt broke past the levy of your soul, heart turning to ash while you observed every bit of light fade from his eyes. “I said earlier I wouldn’t forgive you. That was the lie. I can’t.” Maybe the tears forming would be masked by the sweat he’d inspired.

The next words would be the harshest, the conclusion to everything. He’d called you on it earlier, but now it would be agonizingly true: you were lying to him. “Ever since you came into my life, every day I have wished, hoped, begged that I never met you. Pleaded that the infamous Kylo Ren was a stranger, and I suppose I partially got what I wanted. You have never been more of a stranger than right now.” Another break before your final statement shattered all you’d come to know for the past three months. This would be the act to secure Mason’s life.

Dropping your hands from his neck and forearm, he remained in place, his own hand having left you completely now, his eyes nearing the vacancy of his touch. With a whisper, you completed your task. “You are an irredeemable bastard, Commander Ren, and I want nothing more than to forget you exist.”

Hollow were the eyes which mirrored each other, emptiness enveloping him just as it had you. A transaction of turmoil. An exchange of hearts as Kylo’s had stopped while Mason’s would beat on. Through two razed pupils you felt his soul shrink into him, saw the man you loved shatter into dust.

Nothingness equipped him with a lifeless gaze, a flat voice, and a crushing shadow of decimation. “I trusted you.”

And to tie it all up with a gnarled, muddied, tattered bow. “I never asked you to.”

The walls you’d just laid foundation for were audible in their construction, flagrant over his face as he backed away, eyes proximal in the physical sense yet entirely distant in their expression. You didn’t know what to do, unsure if to leave him here or to wait for him to leave first. Venom burned at the ashes in your chest, starving you of air and shattering your temporary mask with each dead measure of time.

Pushing up from the metal, you looked down to your ankles, still bound to the table as you were in shame. There were no words you could think to say, nothing you could do to remedy this level of severity. In the second you’d stolen to look down, Kylo Ren’s eyes had returned to that of the person you’d met the time he’d taken your will. It chilled you, and while watching him, forgetting to move, you found you no longer could.

All at once your head crashed back into the metal, your arms flew outward, and every restraint – a pummel of metal over your forehead, a bite into your wrists, and a reinforcing clobber over your ankles – latched with a shroud of metallic shrieks. Along with the physical detention, a familiar, compressing weight came to reside over your chest, every breath you took barely life sustaining.

“You can leave here. You can quit—” stalking steps approached, eyes peering around to find him in your periphery “—but you will never forget me.” Kylo Ren loomed over you now, death salient in his eyes. “I won’t allow it.”

The white stone of his face drowned in a haze of brilliant red, the familiar frequency stunning your ears and stabbing your skin with the rippling rage its presence promised. Parted lips permitted a tired wince, desolate eyes staring into your own, skipping down your chest, and landing on a region unknown to you.

“Let this serve as a physical reminder of all you’ve vocalized here.”

Blinded in silent fury, his visage remained vacant. Out of sight, a gloved hand smoothed your skirt onto your abdomen, an emblazoned heat quickly replacing it with burning wrath. Bile rose in your throat, your eyes clasping shut in defense; no matter if you couldn’t see, the darkness offered by lidded eyes worked to take you from reality, knowing there was nothing you could do or say or scream that would convince the sadistic stranger to spare you.

Accepting fate, you shredded your teeth into your lips, staggering broken wails through a muting muzzel as the plasma blade made first contact with the skin of your upper left thigh. Sweat beaded as more muted shrieks shattered in your throat, the weapon passing down once and lifting. In the time it was away from your skin, not ripping into you with the deflected pain of its brandisher, you took in a series of deep breaths and lifted your lids. The Kylo you loved was nowhere to be found, and you knew and accepted that he never would be again, watching him concentrate with a creased brow just as the plasma bit another line, seemingly perpendicular to the first. There was no reaction to your hummed howls, still not allowing yourself to scream your pain into existence, not ready to accept why when his face peered back up to yours.

The absence of the chrome-slat helmet disadvantaged him in no way; the devoid person who had earlier removed it had formed a new mask, one fueled by the frenzy you’d fabricated from phony truths and forced rejection. Looking between your eyes, a stranded soul stared down to you as one more burning strike lit into your skin, a mirror of the second as it dragged down just slightly from its starting point.

A suggestion of a snarl bit at his upper lip as his face returned to its original state of smooth, flecked marble. The restraints unlocked and sheathed themselves back into their original hidden state, the exit opening behind his shoulder. “Leave.”

Fire pooled in your leg, chin trembling while absorbing every inclination to express the suffering that singed into you. With heaving breaths you smelled your injured flesh, nauseated and dizzy thinking about the pattern he’d etched. You didn’t want to scream at him, didn’t feel like saying anything at all, really. There was something shameful barring you from expressing any, or any more, cruelty toward him, keeping you from hating him for the hurt he’d wrought.

No verbalized goodbye would ever be enough to undo what had gone on in this room. Gingerly, you stepped off from the apparatus with the unaffected leg, dragging your shoe from the ledge until it fell flat next to the other. Swallowing, you pulled your bottom lip into your mouth, taking one final look at the mess you’d made, shuddering away before he could see the tears stinging to life. In an effort to keep from stressing the muscle beneath the branded tissue, not taking a moment to examine it yet, you kept the injured leg tensed, hobbling into the hall and away from Kylo Ren.

When you took your final step out of the second hall he’d led you down, you hopped against the wall, finding you’d met your timeframe. Ten minutes remained. A cruel thought of overachievement panged at your temple as you reached for your phone, panting through heavy, hot streams of hurt.

The line barely finished the first ring, your mouth starting a sentence only to be interrupted by the sinister slithering of Snoke’s cadence. “You’ve proven more honorable than I previously credited you for, young officer.”

“Fuck you.”

“Ah, well. Always the charmer, aren’t you?”

“Mason. Where is he?”

“I’m a man of my word,” Snoke said, an obvious twisted grin in his words. “When I felt the death of your connection – which, I am truly impressed at how completely eviscerated it is – I dismissed the Physician. I have no use for him if he’s dead, after all.”

The most insignificant spark of relief lit and died in the same breath. “The deal, then? My trial?”

“We’ll see, won’t we?”

“No. No! You promise me or i-,”

“A pleasure doing business with you, miss,” the way he swirled around your last name made you want to erase it entirely.

The line went dead, your screen went black, and your blood turned cold. With a jolt of unadulterated and uncontained wrath – for yourself, for Snoke, for all of it – you chucked the device into the floor. Not checking if the screen had already cracked, you stomped on it once, twice, three, four times as a collection of the screams you’d accumulated grated against your throat.

Only when you stumbled against the wall, your leg stinging against its injury, did you stop your tantrum. Maybe tantrum was the wrong word. This display of frustration had been earned and was not that of an errant child who couldn’t have her way. Though, you didn’t get what you wanted, and you knew you never could the second you stepped into that room.

With this knowledge and an unsteady gait, you stuck close to the walls while you began your venture back to your residence. With each step you shattered more, a trail of broken hopes and severed ties following in your path, a shadow of their own looming from the depths of the disheartened soul it sprung from.

[thorne93]

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 18)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 3323

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy​​​​​, @carryonmyswansong​​​​​, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​ - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong​​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Reid, what the hell?” JJ asked as she walked up from behind him.

“What?” he asked, turning around. 

“You put in an official request to not work with me?” she demanded, her face pinched with frustration.

“Yes,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Why?” 

“Because I don’t think it’s a good idea. At least for now. It’s putting a strain on my marriage and I think it’d be good if you and I weren’t around each other for a while.”

She frowned. “What, so you’re just going to quit the team or get me kicked off?” she asked, accusing him. 

“I’m merely asking Prentiss to keep us from doing assignments alone together.” He went to turn around but she followed him, still talking.

“You know, if you didn’t feel the same, you wouldn’t be doing this. If you’re so certain your marriage is fine, then being around me wouldn’t matter,” she insisted.

He stopped and turned to her. “This has nothing to do with me, or with Y/N. It has to do with you.” 

“Me?” 

“Yes, I don’t think I should work with you for fear it might fuel whatever fantasy you might have of me.”

She balked. “Uh, okay, it’s not a fantasy, Spence. I have feelings for you, and you have them for me.” 

“We’ve been over this, JJ. The only romantic feelings I had for you died a long time ago, and they have been dead since I met Y/N. The sooner you accept that, the sooner we can all move on.” 

“You know, the only time someone is worried someone is going to cheat, is when that person has already committed infidelity. Paranoia comes from a place of guilt, Spencer, remember that.” 

She began to leave when Reid called out to her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

She laughed slightly, almost a patronizing chuckle. “Oh, you mean you didn’t notice it? The way her and her friend from Miami acted?”

“Dexter? Morgan? The forensics guy? What about him? They’re friends.”

“You didn’t think she was a little too entranced with him? While you were missing, Spence, she and I had a fight in the bathroom. He pulled her out to take her for a walk. Next thing I know, I leave the bathroom and they’re huddled in a corner, whispering.” 

“She might’ve been confiding in him about the recent situation between you and me.” 

“Every time she needed something, she turned to him. Not to us. We’ve known her for years, and she barely spoke to us. Unless it was about the case and how to find you, she didn’t talk to us. She nearly fainted in the conference room and he escorted her out then too.”

“As I recall, you and I have leaned on each other quite a bit as friends, does that mean we’re romantically involved? What about Garcia and Morgan?”

She held up her hands. “I’m just saying. It seemed odd to bring him up here, and then she and him were never apart, and always whispering, always together. You did mention how you hadn’t heard from her for awhile…” With that, she left and Spencer was standing there, trying to decide if she was just trying to get inside his head. 

He thought about it, about the way you two moved around each other and looked around each other and there was some sort of secret, an intimacy there… But JJ couldn’t be right. You wouldn’t wait until you were down in Miami on a last minute decision to cheat on him… would you?

Well, you might if you thought Spence had cheated with JJ, he thought bleakly to himself. 

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

The end of April was nearing, which meant you had about two weeks left of work in Miami, then it was off to D.C. to keep this up. You weren’t sure you could, or if you’d even be good at it, but at least you had the experience and maybe you could pick up a few tricks on your own. You’d have to work with Dexter on a disposal method once you got back here. 

Last night, you and Dexter had committed your third kill. He’d killed two in between yours. This was getting surprisingly easy. Knowing you were getting animal abusers off the face of the Earth, you were pretty happy with yourself. 

“So you’d never tell Deb, huh?” you asked as you sat on Dexter’s couch, holding a beer. 

“No,” he said emphatically.

“Rita?” you questioned with an eyebrow perch.

“No,” he echoed. 

“Aw come on, there’s got to be someone you’d tell.”

“I told you.” He tipped his beer bottle towards you.

You shook your head. “I figured it out. That doesn’t count.” 

“I don’t know. Why does it matter?” 

“Because, you are a fucking hero. Do you realize how many lives you’ve saved?” you asked, clearly impressed and excited.

“No, but I’m sure your husband could calculate it for me,” he said with a grin.

You smiled. “Yeah, he probably could.”

“He’s a really good guy. I see why you fell for him. He is very smart.”

“Intelligence gets me horny, every time,” you informed.

He laughed, leaning forward to put his beer on the coffee table. “Okay, might be TMI.” 

You gave him a bitch face. “Really, Dex? I’m not sure at this point in our relationship there’s such a thing as TMI.” 

He bobbed his head side to side. “Maybe not.” He took a breath before saying, “But I mean it. He seems to really love you. I can see it with the way he acts around you.” 

“Thanks… I hope so. I hope I haven’t lost him to JJ.”

“In my experience, people take what they want. He wouldn’t wait for her to tell him, and he definitely wouldn’t put the effort into trying to keep you if he wanted her.”

“Well what about you? You spend your life keeping up appearances, to make it easier.”

“Because I face the electric chair if I don’t,” he reminded sternly, his eyes dark with warning. 

You nodded. You often forgot that Dexter was in fact a serial killer, a sociopath. Even when you two were literally killing together. You never feared him. But sometimes, like just then, you got glimpses of the darkness within, and it reminded you of who he was, and what he was capable of. 

“In your case, Spencer doesn’t have to do all of that,” he continued.

“But what if he’s trying to keep both? What if JJ is just trying to keep her family together and Spencer doesn’t want to lose me too, so they’re going behind our backs and--”

“And thinking like that will drive you crazy. Knowing about it in advance doesn’t let you control the situation, Y/N, I’m sorry. I know you want to, but analyzing everything he says, does, or doesn’t do, won’t help you figure out if he has cheated or will cheat. Even then, you can’t control him. Maybe you thwart him one time, but if he really wants to do it, he’ll do it.”

“Gee, thanks,” you remarked.

“I’m serious. I know it sucks. I know it probably hurts, but you have to realize that working yourself up isn’t good either. Just… live life with him and be happy with him, until something concrete tells you not to be.” 

You peered at him. “See? Wise, and you clean up our streets. I swear, you should have a monument erected in your honor.” 

The two of you began laughing when a knock came at the door. 

“I’ll get it,” you informed as you hopped up from your seat. You went over to the door, still laughing when you opened it. 

But then your heart fell into your stomach when you saw your husband standing there.

“Spence?” you questioned, your pulse racing. 

“Hi, Y/N,” he said with no ounce of warmth.

“What--What are you doing here?” you stammered, wondering if he could hear your heart hammering in your chest. It was all you could hear right now, the rushing in your ears. 

“I wanted to see you. Can I come in?” 

You glanced back to Dexter who was already up and out of his seat behind you. You stepped back to let Spence in before closing the door and walking around in front of him. 

“What brings you down? Is the team on a case, or…?” you inquired, hoping he had some innocent reason for being here. 

“I just thought I’d come down to surprise you, but when I got to your apartment, you weren’t there,” he explained and your palms began sweating.

Man, you were shitty when it came to pressure. Well, when the guy applying pressure was your husband, yeah. 

“So, then I thought maybe you were at the college - I tried there, no luck. I tried the Miami PD, since I know sometimes you work there on the case of the missing persons. Then I realized, maybe, at 11 o’clock at night, you were at a friend’s. Asked where Morgan here lived and here I am.” He glanced over you to Dexter, a smile on his face. 

“Yeah, well I was just going so--”

“No you weren’t,” he said. “Your phone is on the table. Your purse is still in the corner over there, and you can’t stand to have a messy room, and there are two beer bottles opened on the coffee table.” 

“Right, I didn’t mean I was on my way out the door just that--”

“Just that… what? That you were upset about JJ so you started an affair to get back at me?” he asked and suddenly you realized what he was doing. 

For a moment, you thought he was onto you and Dex, your killings, but he was just jealous. This could be an easy fix.

“Jesus, why was I so blind?” he asked, more to himself than anything else. He ran a hand over his face. “I should’ve seen this. I should’ve been able to tell. I thought you two were just friends. It’s my own fault. I should’ve just told JJ that night I didn’t feel the same but instead I pushed you away. I was a liar. I didn’t mean to lie, but my actions caused you to go for another man… It makes sense now. How distant you were becoming, how infrequently you called. I just thought you were getting busy with finals but now...” His eyes shifted from you to Dexter, still standing still as a statue behind you.  

For a moment, you just chewed the insides of your cheeks. You let Spence believe you were a cheater, because that was better than the alternative… right? 

“How long has it been going on?” he asked.

You just looked at him, guilt and sorrow in your face. Your insides were churning hard and fast.

“Spence… we aren’t having an affair,” you informed slowly.

“I don’t believe you,” he finally admitted. “The two of you act like you have something to hide. You did in Kentucky too. The way you move around each other is more than friendly. Now tell me the truth or we’re over, Y/N.” 

Those words. That threat. Suddenly the idea, the thought of letting Spencer believe you could actually be unfaithful to him hurt a hell of a lot more than the idea of a prison sentence. 

“If it isn’t cheating, what is it? Because you’re hiding something. I know it. I may not be the best profiler, but I know my wife. Something is bothering you, something between you two, so what is it?” he demanded, frustration in his tone. But you knew where that frustration came from. You knew that anger lied in a place of love. He thought you were betraying him in one form or another, and he was hurt that you didn’t trust him any more. 

And that killed you.

Lying to him was easier when he wasn’t directly asking you why you were around Dexter. 

“You’re running out of time to tell me why you’re here at almost midnight, Y/N,” he stressed. “Is this because of JJ? Did you think I cheated so you wanted to get back at me? That doesn’t seem like you, but you’ve been colder, and more distant, I don’t know what else I’m supposed to believe--”

"Dexter's a serial killer!" you blurted out. Spencer's face morphed into total confusion and you decided to elaborate. "We both are. I've been studying him," you quietly stated. For a split second, you felt relief, but then a flood of anxiety and dread hit you, waiting for Spencer to react.

You hadn’t ever thought about how he would react. You never thought you’d tell him. You never thought you’d get caught. At worst, you assumed you’d be caught by the FBI or the police, get arrested, and Spencer would never see you again.

But telling Spencer face to face? He could pull his gun and just shoot you both - he probably wouldn’t, but he might. He could call the FBI without hesitancy to arrest. He could turn around and walk out of your life forever. 

“You… you’re what?” he stammered, his eyes narrowing as he shook his head. 

“You heard me,” you stated. 

“If this is some kind of sick way to get me to believe you aren’t cheating--”

“It’s not. It’s the truth,” you informed, glancing back to Dexter, apology in your face before turning back to your husband.

“What the hell do you expect me to do?” Spencer suddenly asked, looking at you, all intimacy gone from his eyes. 

You could almost physically feel your heart cracking in your chest at the look in his eyes. 

“I… don’t know. Maybe give me a chance to explain?”

He took a deep breath. “Okay, fine. Explain this to me.” 

That surprised you. You honestly thought he’d be calling the local FBI to take care of this. 

“Dexter kills murderers. He does thorough research on people, finds patterns the cops missed, and he takes them out. He never hurts kids, and he has to prove to himself that beyond a reasonable doubt they are killers,” you informed slowly. 

At this, he glanced back to Dexter. 

“Is this true?” 

“Yes. My father was a cop who showed me people fall through the cracks of the justice system and he wanted a way to right that wrong. He showed me a code and I follow it.”

Spence looked back at you as you started to explain more. “I discovered him when I was looking over the missing persons case. Half of them were in the criminal system, the other half led relatively perfect lives. I knew there was something wrong with that picture. Between profiling Dex, the victimology, and investigating some on the missing persons, I approached Dexter.”

“Why didn’t you turn him in?”

You let out a slight sigh. “Because Alan Rochester had just been released. Another one in the long list of people who have wealthy lawyers in a shitty judicial system. He got away, and he’s out there killing again. When I found out Dexter stopped killers… I couldn’t help but talk to him. At first, I just wanted to interview him, and possibly let him go. But then I realized… I wanted to help. I have so much rage and frustration and sorrow for all the families and cruelty that goes on the world. The violence we see that never gets justice and it just keeps going on. I wanted to… get my hands dirty. I wanted to help clean up the streets.”

“That’s what your job is for, as a federal agent,” he reminded angrily. “Did you forget that? You have broken every vow and oath you’ve ever taken, for what?”

“To save lives! The system doesn’t work, Spence! You know that!” you shouted. “They either get let go on trial, or they’re out of jail in ten years, ready to commit again and I just couldn’t see that happen again.”

“So you’re telling me you’ve killed people in cold blood?” he asked, incredulous. 

All you could do was nod. 

 He ran his hands over his hair and turned around. “I don’t believe this. Jesus, Y/N. You realize what you’ve done?”

“Yes. I’ve stopped several monsters from hurting helpless animals. I’ve assisted Dexter in making sure Miami has one less murderer. Tell me where that’s bad.”

“Because that’s not what we do!” he cried out, taking a step towards you, clearly in pieces. “We arrest them, we get them in the system, and we hope for the best.”

“Oh, like the system that let that psychopath Cat Adams manipulate guards and get you into jail? That system? She shouldn’t have been able to touch you, and you were framed for murder, Spencer.”

“I remember, I was in prison,” he stated darkly.

“Then you of all people should understand why I did this.” 

“I wish I could. But this is beyond anything I can comprehend.”

“Really? You did some shady shit while you were in prison, as I recall.”

“I did that to survive. This is different.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you’re actually upset that those pieces of shit are gone,” you challenged. With that, Spence just gave you a steely look. “I’m not saying you have to agree with it, but you can’t pretend you’re totally against it either. We’ve all thought of doing it.” 

“Right, thought of, we didn’t act on it. That’s what separates us from the criminals.” 

“I like to think hurting innocent people is what separates us. Maybe if you knew what kind of horrors these ‘victims’ committed, you’d know we aren’t the bad guys.” 

“Wait, why didn’t he just turn them in, then? If he has all this evidence of killings, why didn’t he just show his sister?” he demanded.

“He’s… he’s not psychologically capable. Sure, he can turn him in, but his father -- He’s got antisocial personality disorder. With or without the code his dad gave him, he will kill anyway. At least this way, it’s people who need it. Not to mention he doesn’t exactly gather all of his evidence in a legal way.” 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I have no idea what to do right now. Part of me says to turn you both in. Part of me says to just walk away from this whole thing, and let you live your life down here in Miami.”

“No, Spence, I--” You reached towards him, it was pure reflex, but he pulled away and that felt like hell to you. 

“I can’t deal with this right now. Okay? I just… I can’t. I’m going to go back to your apartment, and you need to be right behind me, before I change my mind,” he ordered. 

“I am. Let me just grab my things.” 

He didn’t nod, smile, or even look at you. He just turned and left, slamming the door on the way out. You immediately ran to Dexter, wanting to hug him or apologize, or…. Something.

“Dexter. I am… I am so, so, sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I know I should’ve lied but… I know Spence, and he’d leave me for infidelity.”

“And not for being a serial killer?” he inquired, a little sarcastic. 

“I don’t know. There may be hope. I know this puts you in a horrible situation. I never wanted you or me to get caught.” 

He nodded, his face oddly soft. “I know. But if this is how I go down, then… it’s not so bad. I see how much you love him, and if this is what you need to do… it’s what you need to do.”

You smiled before nodding and rushing to get your things. You ran out the door, a final sorrowful look at Dexter before shutting it behind you. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging:

Forever Tag:

@essie1876​​​​​​

@magpiegirl80​​​​​​

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​​​​​​

@iamwarrenspeace​​

@marvel-imagines-yes-please​​

@superwholocked527

@missinstantgratification​​​

@thejemersoninferno​​​​​​

@rda1989​​​​​​

@munlis​

@thefridgeismybestie​

@bubblyanarocks3​

@igiveupicantthinkofausername​

@kaliforniacoastalteens​

@feelmyroarrrr​

@kaeling

@friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo​

@damalseer​​​​​​

@heyitscam99​​​​​​

@yknott81​​​​​​

@thelittlebigirl​​​​​​

@glitterquadricorn​​​​​​

@xxqueenofisolationxx

@little-dis-kaalista-pythonissama

@bittersweetunicorm​​​​​​

@alyssaj23​​​​​​

@sea040561​​���​​​

@princess76179​​​​​​

@thisismysecrethappyplace​​​​​​

@sarahp879​​​​​​

@malfoysqueen14​​​​​​

@ellallheart​​​​​​

@breezy1415​​​​​​

@marvelmayo​​​​​​

@paintballkid711​​​​​​

Spencer Reid

@camigt1999​​​​​​

@ultrarebelheart​​​​​​

@lenawiinchester​​​​​​

@esoltis280​

ITCM

@arganfics​​

[piratewithvigor]

Love Break My Heart: Chapter 4 (Finale)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Summary: A half-life relationship is disintegrating at the seams. Neither of them is good for the other, but after 14 years together, they don’t know how to be with each other anymore.

Word Count: 1938

A/N: This is a prize story written for @slashscowboyboots​ that I’ve had a fantastic time blitz-writing over the last handful of days. This chapter is a little more violent and depressing than the other three and with everything going on in the world, I recommend putting off reading it if you’re not in a proper mental state for it.

We finished recording the albums a few days ago. All that remains is the little nitty-gritty details that Axl usually takes care of. We’ll say it’s a band effort, but the ideas that get put into play are his and the hired professionals he works with. Things like album art, track listings and the little bits of writing that’ll be included. All the details will be as much of a surprise to me as they will be to whoever buys it. I hope to Christ no one books me for an interview to ask about any of them. I won’t have answers. Luckily, with Axl around, that risk runs low.

I’m driving the both of us back to the house from a photoshoot a few miles north of the city. The endless drive for perfection was just as present there as during recording, meaning it’s nearly dawn already. The shoot was only supposed to be a few hours. Nothing more strenuous than having to sit in the makeup chair for a few minutes and then sit on an amp or something with my guitar while they told me to look at a spot on the floor in the distance. Something about wanting to play up my aloof personality, whatever the fuck that means. If I had driven up alone, I could have been home as soon as the group photos and my solo photos were done. But I decided to be a caring dumbass and drive Axl up as well. Which meant he had to sit in on everyone’s solo photos and insist on more takes than Stanley Kubrick.

I haven’t said anything during the drive yet, but I’ve been thinking the entire time. The little box in my jacket pocket feels like it’s been getting heavier the entire time. At some point this evening, I intended to give it to Axl, but evening became morning without me noticing and now we’re alone on a gloomy highway before the rest of the world has woken up. One would think it would be the perfect time to give him the box, and it would be, if he was quiet as well. With his mind on it the entire time, Axl hasn’t stopped talking since we left the studio.

He’s talking about the shoot, kicking himself over how he allowed it to end, with photos different than the ones he was envisioning. At some point, he starts talking about the layout he’s got in mind. How to make the albums distinct, yet clearly meant to be together. I wish I can say I’m listening. After the previous few hours, all I want to do is be in my bed, asleep, and I’m resenting him for keeping me from it.

He suddenly goes quiet and it takes me a moment to realise he’s asked me a question. And another moment to realise that I haven’t been paying attention to a word he’s said. I’m back in third grade and faced with a math problem I don’t know the answer to. So I take the same escape route.

“Sorry, what?”

Axl sighs and looks out of the passenger side window, leaning back with his foot on the dash.

“Forget it. I’m wasting my fucking breath here.”

“I just got distracted. What did you say?”

“What do you care? You’ve resented every part of making this album.”

“Can you blame me, control freak?” The words slip out from under my breath. I hadn’t actually meant to say them, but if they came out, it means I did think them. I can feel Axl’s eyes boring into the side of my skull and my knuckles turn white from my tightening grip on the wheel.

“Sorry, one more time in my good ear?” Axl asks, venom dripping from every syllable. “You know, the one you didn’t blow out with your shitty playing?”

I have to remind myself that this isn’t the time to pick a fight. Too many people end up dead because of a fight behind the wheel that ends up with the car wrapped around a tree. I can hardly feel my fingers anymore, I’m gripping the wheel so hard.

“Fuck off.” It’s all I can whisper to keep my cool. We’ll be back at the house soon and we can punch each others’ lights out there.

“That’s what I thought, you little bitch,” Axl sneers, turning back towards the window.

“Don’t call me that.”

“As control freak, I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

I pull over to the side of the road and park, turning off the engine and leaving us in dead silence. It’s too early for birds to be awake yet and too late in the evening for any of the nocturnal animals to still be making noise. We’re completely alone.

“Get out.” I’ve got one hand in my pocket containing the box and the other in my pocket with my old handgun. A leftover from our struggling dealer days that my paranoia still won’t let me leave behind whenever I go anywhere. I haven’t shot it in years. Axl, to his credit, does as he’s told. I wait until I hear the passenger door slam before I get out as well. He’s leaning onto the hood, fingers clasped together as he stares me down.

“There’s something I don’t get about you,” he says, eyes blazing with a hatred I haven’t seen in over a decade.

“And what’s that?”

“Why you paint yourself as the victim every goddamn day.”

“Because I’m living with a bipolar lunatic who would rather destroy everything than not get his way.”

“And that’s so much harder than living with a junkie loser who hasn’t cared about anything since he made it big, let alone cared about me.” This is new. Of all the things I expected him to pick a fight over, it wasn’t this.

“What the fuck makes you say that?”

Axl straightens up as he shrugs, not an ounce of kidding in his expression. He starts walking towards me and instinct has me clutch the gun in my pocket.

“Dunno. Maybe it’s because ever since you first shot up, I’ve been the one picking up the slack. I made sure you didn’t starve because you were too fucked up to eat for weeks. I kept this band going while the rest of you enjoyed what my work got you. I watched you try to kill yourself slowly for years, you junkie fuck!” He’s close enough to grab me by the jacket and pull me towards him. “And never once did you show me the same love back.”

My laughter is hollow as I shove away his hands. “Every bruise you gave me… that was love to you?” It’s my turn to advance on him with what a professional would probably call hysteria. I call it ‘fucking done’. “The beatings? Were they done in love too? Almost breaking my jaw with a lamp? Was that love? Get off your high fucking horse.”

He’s stunned silent and I get a flash of satisfaction. But only a flash; the silence doesn’t last longer than that.

“Don’t act like you’re a saint here. You’re not the only one who gets stuff thrown at him. You just have shit aim when you’re drunk.”

“Or maybe I’m trying to miss because I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Don’t want to hurt me? Someone alert the presses, because this is breaking fucking news!” Our voices are getting louder and they’re starting to echo, but I’m way too pissed off to care.

“Maybe I love you too, ever think of that?”

“And your version of love is so much better than mine.” Axl’s face softens a moment and he starts doing a petulant chick voice. It’s jarring, to say the least. “Ooh, I’m Izzy Stradlin, flawless prince of perfection, and I purposely miss throwing furniture at my boyfriend because I love him.” The switch back throws me off just as much. “Grow the fuck up, Izzy.”

Before I know it, the gun in my pocket is out and it’s being aimed at Axl. The other hand still in my pocket is shaking, but the one out is steady as stone. I can almost hear our hearts beating in the dead silence. Axl has his hands up in quiet surrender. He’s about to say something before I cut him off.

“Don’t. Just don’t. Don’t say anything for a second. Just stay fucking quiet,” I murmur, taking a step towards him. He doesn’t move a muscle.

“Fourteen years ago, I thought I loved you. I was so certain after our first kiss, that I never doubted it for a second. Even when you were hitting me, I was sure I loved you. Axl, I was so fucking sure for so long that I loved you that I never questioned that what we have isn’t love. It’s mutual tolerance at best. Hatred at the worst. Axl, I hate you. I hate you so much that my heart hurts right now thinking about it.”

I didn’t realise that my eyes were getting moist until the tear reached my neck. It let me realise that Axl was crying as well. The greens in his eyes were gone, leaving behind nothing except stormy grey with watery red surrounding them. He’s shaking hard. Be it with fear or anger, I don’t know, and I sure as fuck don’t care. There was a time in my life when I would have softened and felt like shit at causing him to look like that, but right now, I don’t care. I can’t imagine caring.

I pull my other hand out of my pocket and Axl flinches. “My final contribution,” I murmur, holding the box out to him. He takes it and pulls out the tape inside. My chickenscratch handwriting labels it with the title. I retrace a little and correct myself. “My final, imperfect, contribution. Do with it what you will.”

“What do you mean final?” He finally asks, turning the tape over in his hands.

“This is my resignation. I’m quitting. I’m done with you and with this band.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“I’ll keep doing what I love, and I’m going to do it without your fucking nagging in my ear every goddamn day of my life.” I chuckle lowly, my laughter breathy and wild. “I wasted half my fucking life on you. Half of it, you son of a bitch. I’m never getting it back, thanks to you.”

Axl takes a step towards me and I straighten my arm, aiming my gun directly between his eyes.

“Stay back. Stay back or I swear to God, I will shoot you.”

“So fucking do it.”

“Yeah, cause you’d let yourself die with a bullet wound on that pretty face of yours.”

“So we’ve decided you won’t shoot me in the face. What are you going to do?”

“Walk home. Not to our house. Keep whatever you want that’s there. I don’t care about any of it.”

Axl nods solemnly and looks back down at the tape in his hands. “You do that.”

I lower my gun and toss him the keys as I begin to walk away.

“Izzy, one more thing.”

I turn around and pause for a moment. I don’t know why I did it when I knew that I wasn’t going to be going back to him.

“I never want to see you again. I never want to hear from you again. On my life, I would rather slit my own throat than hear your name ever again.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

[evakuality]

Ah, how much we love episode four!  It’s one of those ones that’s just so nice, isn’t it?  For the most part it’s smooth sailing and we all know how it ends for both our boys.  They get the boy!  There’s kissing and closeness and fun and romance!  But for both of them, these things are a bit different and what they want and get out of these encounters is quite different.  Even wants the grand gesture, something to solidify the things he’s been building up to with Isak over the last week or two, and David … well, he didn’t exactly want this in the same way.  And yet, once he makes up his mind he’s quite determined.  His gesture isn’t on the same scale as Even’s and yet it’s just as filled with purpose.

For previous Even and David comparisons click here to start

For the Isak and Matteo version you can start here

David makes the first approach after the almost kiss, messaging Matteo in Italian as soon as he’s awake.  I know there was a lot of theorising at the time that he was waiting for Matteo to wake up so he could send it, and that’s plausible; it certainly came very soon after Matteo started looking at stuff on his phone.  The genuinely lovely thing about this, apart from this being David making the effort to reach out, is that they are already sharing their inside jokes.  This becomes something of a thing between them, posting and saying things that only mean something to them.  No-one else is going to look at that picture of cheese toasts and think ‘wow that’s romantic’ and yet … these two are., and it’s a connection that is being forged between the two of them. It’s no wonder, then, that Matteo asks him to hang out next week; David has made his interest pretty plain.  They almost kissed and now they’re sharing cryptic messages to each other that no-one else will ever understand.  As an aside, I do wonder how they got away from the kitchen after that close call.  For Isak and Even, Noora is there and remains as a constant presence stopping anything else happening again.  For David and Matteo, Mia and Alex leave and they just sort of hang awkwardly in the kitchen.  I guess once things are broken into like that, it’s hard to recapture the magic, particularly if the cold light of day intrudes in the form of a couple arguing.  For David, who is already a little hesitant, that could easily be a reminder that he could be risking a lot only to have it fall apart easily.  He doesn’t really know Matteo yet, doesn’t know the depths of his ability to love and show affection and support.  So, I guess it does make sense that he might carefully finish cleaning up and then leave after the magic of that moment is gone.  That makes the reaching out the next day a lot more interesting, if it is the case.  That’s David overcoming his hesitations and remembering the good stuff about that night and not instantly pushing the possibility away.    

For Even, Isak is the one who reaches out to him via text, and he gives him an actual dismissal.  I have spent far too much time wondering about why he would do this, and part of me wonders if it’s because Sonja was there with him when he got the message, and so he couldn’t really say what he wanted to say.  Effectively, ‘I forgot I had stuff to do with my girlfriend’ is quite dismissive.  The tone here, when we compare it to David’s first message, is very standoffish.  In general, Even is the one who is more open and eager and David is the standoffish one.  So it seems like there must be something else going on there, particularly when we look at how he is when he comes up to Isak to suggest pregaming for the Halloween party together.  This text, the dismissive one, is mirrored by Matteo’s second attempt to reach out to David.  But interestingly, David at this point doesn’t give the really solid ‘no’ that Even does.  I’m not actually sure which would be better: being ignored or being told ‘nope, doing stuff with my actual girlfriend, remember her’ but Isak is left in no doubt about where he stands.  Or so he thinks.

Then the invitation to the pregame is so deliberate and purposeful.  Even makes the approach, and does his ‘I’m super cool’ thing.  One thing with both boys at this point -- they do both know that Isak and Matteo are on the page with them.  The difference:  Even wants it, quite desperately, and is overjoyed to have it.  His demeanour in the hallway is relaxed though with a hint of fear that maybe Isak will think differently (either after the rejection in the weekend, or because Even may be worried that he has had time to rethink what almost happened on Friday).  David on the other hand is conflicted.  He’s still torn between wanting to not tell anyone anything and just how drawn he is to Matteo.  Again, the fact that this is a huge thing for him is shown up in the way that David is on screen and around Matteo a lot more.  We can assume that, since Matteo and Sara saw him and Leonie together, that David could easily have seen Matteo with Sara.  At this point, there’s that thing again - Matteo has a girlfriend, so how is it possible for David to get what he wants (but is also quite reluctant to go after at this point)?  His ‘hot and cold’ behaviour is quite likely to be because his head and his heart keep warring with him.  Sensibly, he knows that he should just put his head down, get through the rest of the year and then go his merry way.  Unfortunately our feelings are never sensible and so he finds himself drawn back to Matteo over and over and over again.  He needs to see him, though.  The pull is at its greatest when they are close.

Of course, alongside Isak, we soon find out that Sonja has inserted herself into the pregame.  To Isak this could easily look like ‘oh well, guess the kissing was a game when drunk then, here’s his girlfriend again’ but to Even it’s probably really frustrating as it gets in the way of his grand plans.  Between the lines, we can work out that Even is probably still trying to soothe Sonja’s feathers (I doubt the way he stayed behind on Friday endeared him to her).  He’d rather just be pregaming with Isak, but she’s found out about it and so they have to make it a team effort.  And then she tells Emma!  So Even has not only his own girlfriend to contend with, but now also the one Isak has been kissing etc.  It must be incredibly frustrating for him, so the way he acts at the pregame isn’t all that unusual.  

David, on the other hand, gets more interaction with Matteo.  They meet again in the hallways during exam time, and while again the interaction is a little awkward (some of it potentially to do with David panicking because he’s been seen coming out of the teacher’s bathroom), Matteo makes it very clear where he stands: he’d love to get some cheese toasts again.  It’s more of the insider thing, the way they can make these references to something and have them meaningful but completely go over the heads of anyone else who may hear them.  The interesting comparison here is that while Matteo and David see more of each other and make more effort to communicate with each other, Matteo never asks David to Abdi’s party.  David comes along as a guest of Leonie’s, and mirroring the bits with Sonja and Emma, Sara is acting like this is her party and she has invited her friends to it; fascinating considering that Matteo didn’t even ask her to come and she had to go to him.  So, once again we see Even being the more proactive one in terms of manipulating a situation to go how he wants it to.  He very deliberately asks Isak to a social event together.  David does not.  He’s there almost by chance.

Even’s experience of the pregame is clearly very frustrating.  Sonja and Emma are getting on like a house on fire, they’ve been sitting and talking presumably for a long time.  It’s all very adult and respectable (compare to the neon pregame which was much more spontaneous and fun), and Isak looks bored out of his mind.  Sonja has turned it into something she likes, but that has sucked every ounce of everything Even intended out of it.  Worse, he’s miles away from Isak and the only conversation they can have is banal and stilted.  It’s no wonder he’s snippy with Sonja.  She’s ruined his plans and now she’s trying to police him.  The difference for David is that he walks in on a very heated argument in a situation where he’s not even necessarily sure he’s welcome.  Much more heated than the one between Sonja and Even.  David’s care, however, is not at all for Sara (and to be fair, Isak’s isn’t for Sonja either), and he checks in on how Matteo is doing.  Again, the difference here is interesting.  Even suggests that he and Isak should leave and isak follows.  Matteo asks if David wants to go with him and he willingly agrees.  For one set, obviously, they are more ‘together’ in this escape, whereas for the other Isak hesitates before leaving.  

The difference in timing comes into play here as well.  Isak and Even cycle for a while before they get where they’re going (which doesn’t appear to be all that purposeful until Even spots it and realises what he can do), David and Matteo do too, but David seems to have a much firmer grasp on where they are going and why.  We see in episode 8 that these two actually spent a fair bit of time wandering the building before they get into the pool area.  They have an already firmly established trust and have been indulging in a lot of silliness and banter prior to this moment.  So the ‘game’ David suggests holds much less weight.  They both seem to be very comfortable with what’s happening here, very much just waiting for that first step to be taken and so the ‘bet’ isn’t taken as seriously, and even the ‘rematch’ is obviously not really about breath holding.  For Even, however, the ‘game’ is of much greater importance, partly because he’s recreating one of his favourite movie scenes and wants it to go well, but also partly because it gives him some cover of a sort.  First, it allows plausible deniability if things were to go wrong the way they did last time he tried to kiss a boy.  Second, it keeps Isak from being too spooked.  His body language is much more stilted and anxious than Matteo’s is.  Partly because they did just break and enter into someone’s house in the middle of the night, and he’s obviously wary of that, but also partly because they haven’t had the same time to build up to this.  

For both Even and David this is a moment where they get to experience the joy of connecting with the boy they’re really into.  Everything is stripped away except for them together, kissing, and the interruption when it comes is just as intrusive for both.  What it means to each of them is a little different, though.  For Even it’s the relief of knowing he didn’t misread and that this boy is into him as well, and also the knowledge that he’s going to have to break it off with Sonja.  She becomes someone who’s standing in the way, and within a day of this he’s decided he has to end it.  David, by contrast, is now in very scary territory.  He’s happy of course that he took that leap, and the way he so very deliberately went about it shows that he’s actually very keen on the idea and on being with Matteo.  But for him, he now has to make some decisions about what he tells Matteo and when, he’s treading ground that could take him back to where he was at his old school.  In some ways, for David Sara represents the ability to keep things more chill with Matteo.  While she is on the scene, David doesn’t have to make any sort of final decision.  I doubt it’s quite this deliberate in his thoughts, but she’s still something of a buffer.when he still needs it.  They’re both, Even and David, at a point where they have the boy and are happy.  But they’re each in very different spaces in terms of what that means to them.  One thing that is the same for both is that each has a secret and it’s a secret he really doesn’t want to have exposed.  And each is now in a situation and with someone who can make those carefully kept secrets come out.  It’s both an amazing time and a scary one.

Onwards to episode five

[crystallized-shadow]

Chapter: 1/1 Rating: Mature Pairing: Madara/Tobirama Word Count: 2567 Warnings: Swearing, blood, betrayal, character death, forced to take part in a ritual Summary: It's been over 1000 years since Tobirama and Madara spent the Winter Solstice together and Tobirama swears it won't end like last time. But can Tobirama keep such a promise?

Ko-Fi // Commission Info

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

As happy as Tobirama was that his summer was back, he realized he might have forced the awakening too soon. Madara was neither the god he'd loved for innumerable ages nor the human reincarnation, but something in between the two. The winter god knew it was painful for the summer god, all too aware of his missing power but unable to reclaim it. That being said, Madara's idea was stupid and he wasn't going to let it happen.

"No."

"You can't tell me no," Madara huffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he glares his eternal partner, "I'm still the master in this relationship, you are my summon."

"You were never my master," Tobirama points out, getting right in Madara's personal space, "you are mine and I will not lose you to those monsters again."

"Tobirama," Madara sighs, "I can't not go, I've gone every year."

"That was before you reawakened the powers they originally stole from you." Tobirama states, seeing the flame in Madara's eyes waver just enough that he knows he's getting through to him. "Please my summer," he pleads, pressing their foreheads together and staring deep into the other's eyes, "I've already lost you once, I won't survive losing you a second time."

Madara closes his eyes for a long moment before reopens them, his sad gaze finding Tobirama's easily. "I am so sorry I put you through that my winter, but I have to go," the summer god mutters, pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss, "not only would it be odd for my human half to miss it, but I need to get my power back, this half revival is killing me."

"There must be another way."

"There isn't and you know it."

"If you go I won't talk to you for the next millennia," Tobirama states with a huff, turning away from Madara to avoid the summer god seeing just how hurt he is right now.

"If I don't go I won't be around in a millennia," Madara points out, rolling his eyes, "I need my power back or I'll just die again."

Tobirama goes rigid, hating that Madara has a very valid point. Rather than admit he's wrong, Tobirama disappears in a swirl of snow, leaving Madara alone in the human's living room.

Madara just sighs, shaking his head at Tobirama's childish actions before he goes to gather the few things he'll need for the trip. It wasn't as if he didn't understand Tobirama's hesitance to let him near the Uchiha, he didn't want to be on the same plane as them, let alone trapped in a room with them, but he truly had no choice. True reincarnation, especially for a god as powerful as himself, took millennia upon millennia to happen naturally. Normally it would have taken at least another 9 millennia or so before his fellow seasons should have been able to sense him; at which point they would have been able to help him reclaim his lost powers. However since Tobirama had found him so much earlier, and reawakened his soul, Madara had little choice but to speed the process up or risk starting it all over again. Without the other gods able to sense him, and Hashirama currently pissed at him for stealing Tobirama, Madara knew the only god he might get help from is Tobirama, if the winter god can stop pouting long enough to actually be helpful.

Much too soon for Madara's liking he's standing before the Uchiha's meeting place. Now that he remembered his past, he couldn't help but admire the amount of balls Tajima must have had to select here of all places for the Uchiha's "ancestral shrine". The fact that this place had survived Tobirama's rage for over 1000 years is even more impressive, he knew his death site was always the epicenter of a truly horrifying blizzard each year. Steeling his nerves, Madara takes a deep breath and walks into what he hoped wouldn't turn into his grave again.

Everything goes smoothly at first, no one suspects that Madara is anything but human, until it's his turn to "present an issue" to the clan. Finding himself in the center of the room where he had once died, it takes every ounce of willpower he has to keep his voice steady as he speaks.

"Honorable elders," Madara greets with a proper bow, his father had beaten manners into him at a young age, "thank you for agreeing to hear my rather unorthodox request."

"It's rare you wish to speak to us at all," the oldest elder mutters, drawing a puff from his pipe despite his wife's frown, "for someone rumored to be the great Tajima's reincarnation you don't usually take an active part in our clan."

"Cut the boy some slack dear," his wife chides, "he's still young enough that clan politics probably bore him to tears."

"What did you wish to speak with us about Brother?" Obito questions, drawing Madara's eyes to his older brother's scarred face; the elder Uchiha had been caught in one of Tobirama's avalanches and would always bare the marks. Fitting Madara found himself thinking, since Obito acted more like Tajima than he ever had.

"I met the God of Winter," Madara states, his tone even and his eyes hard, "he claims our powers weren't freely given, but stolen from the God of Summer. Our clan is responsible for the seasons being thrown out of balance; we need to return our power to the gods."

"You are aware of what you're asking us, correct?" Obito asks, his lone eye flat in a way that makes Madara nervous.

"I am, but we are already a strong clan, returning what was stolen won't hurt us." For a long moment no one speaks and Madara resists the urge to fidget under the unimpressed looks the elders are sending him. He was beginning to regret not listening to Tobirama.

"How do you know the seasons are off balance?" Obito asks instead, making Madara's brows furrow in confusion.

"What do you mean Brother? The ancient texts Father made us read talk about it."

"You mean the ancient texts that no Uchiha has ever been able to decipher?" Obito presses and Madara feels his blood run cold. "Why would the winter god appear before someone from the clan it hates?"

"What are you saying?" Madara mutters, pulling his weakening magic to his fingertips, ready to launch enough fireballs to escape.

"What I'm saying," Obito begins with a cruel smirk, a flare of his magic activating the runes around Madara, "is we've known the truth about you since you were a child; our little summer come back to strengthen us once more."

The runes glow brightly, and Madara feels a very familiar flash of horror, before his magic is forcibly shoved back into his core and a scream is torn from his throat as he collapses to his knees. "Please...Brother, don't do this..." Madara pants, glancing up at his brother through his bangs, praying he can reach the older man.

Obito's face remains impassive as he leaves his elevated perch and walks down to stand above Madara. "You have never been my brother," he states, disgust tainting his words, "you're nothing more than fodder to strengthen my great clan."

Terror grips Madara's soul as the truth crashes into him like a tidal wave; the elders had always known the truth. His clan had never forgotten how they got their power; instead they were just waiting for him to do this so they could repeat Tajima's actions once more. Darkness licks at the corners of Madara's vision as he feels Obito flare his magic once more. The glowing runes around him slowly crawl onto his skin, burning like brands, and Madara bites through his lip in an effort to hold back a blood curdling scream. When unconsciousness mercifully pulls at him, Madara just lets himself fall.

Madara comes to some time later with a scream, a burning knife stabbing through his wrists and pinning him to the center of the rune circle that still haunts his nightmares. It takes him a second to remember his family betraying him, but when he does, Madara just looks up into his brother's cold eye, resigned.

"Not going to fight me?" Obito sneers, crouched beside Madara with the ceremonial dagger in one hand.

Madara doesn't bother to answer, doesn't see the point; his magic was sealed and without Tobirama at his side he was done for. "You won't survive winter," he mutters because he knows Tobirama will wipe the Uchiha clan off the face of the earth before he succumbs to the madness he'd threatened early.

"We'll take its power too," Obito chuckles, "all the seasons will fall to us."

"Will we now?" An icy voice mutters, the tone making every Uchiha shudder in fear while Madara can't help but grin. Obito slowly turns to face the newcomer, unsure of what to make of the pale man leaning against the wall just outside the reach of the runes binding Madara.

"And who the fuck are you?" He demands, frowning at the sound of wind rattling through frozen trees that greets his question. It takes him a moment to realize the pale bastard is laughing at him.

"I am the God of Winter," Tobirama chuckles, his grin as sharp as the ice he commands, "and you have something of mine."

"Summer belongs to the Uchiha!" Obito growls, standing up to face the god, "once we take its power again we'll take yours too!"

"Have you ever wondered why Summer's power can be stolen only on this day?" Tobirama questions, raising one pale eyebrow when the Uchiha glare at him.

"Summer is weakest on the Winter Solstice, everyone knows that!"

"That is true, because Winter is strongest today," Tobirama points out, freezing the ground with barely a spark of magic. As the ice slowly creeps up the Uchiha's legs, Tobirama finally pushes off the wall and walks toward Obito. "Your despicable ancestors stole Summer from me once, you won't steal him again."

"Fuck you!" Obito snarls, a great blast of fire bursting from him, melting the ice holding him. He catches Tobirama by surprise, the god hadn't expected anyone with fire magic that strong, and he manages to graze the god's cheek with his dagger. "I will make you pay for mocking my clan!"

Tobirama braces himself for another blast of fire, ready to counter it this time, however it never comes. Instead the ball of fire melts away the ice covering the runes around Madara just as Obito activates them. Madara's scream as his magic is torn away stabs right through Tobirama's heart and before he can stop himself, he is lunging for Madara, his ice breaking the circle once more.

"Too easy," Obito mocks, plunging his dagger into Tobirama's exposed back. Or at least he tries too, surprised when a spike of black ice suddenly impales him. Obito's eye travels from the ice to Madara as the dagger clatters uselessly to the ground. "H-how...?"

"I won't let you..." Madara pants from his half-crouched from, wrists bloody and torn from escaping the knife, "touch my winter..." Madara sways, collapsing into Tobirama's waiting arms.

"Always so reckless my summer," Tobirama mummers, gently easing his magic into Madara to heal his wounds even as he fully encases the Uchiha in ice. The bastards wouldn't die yet, not with their stolen fire magic, but Madara needed them alive to extract his power.

"You came..." Madara mutters, nuzzling into the fur surrounding his lover's neck, "thought you were mad at me."

"I’m furious," Tobirama states, carding a hand through Madara's wild mane, "but that doesn't mean I'd let you die."

"Thank you."

The two lapse into an easy silence as Tobirama heals Madara's wounds and gets the branded runes off him. Once the summer god is steady on his feet again, he looks at the people he thought were his family.

"You brought this on yourself Brother," Madara mumbles before he gathers his magic once more, muttering an ancient spell in a language only Tobirama understands.

Tobirama watches as the spell works, watches the stolen magic finally return to its original owner. The changes happen more slowly, first Tobirama feels the bound that had held him as Madara's summon fade away after all a god had no use for a summon. Next pale skin darkens to the sun scorched color only Madara had ever possessed, a lovely shade Tobirama had missed dearly, while dark hair loses the rigidity only humans had. The moment Tobirama knows his summer is back is the when molten eyes slowly blink open and find his.

“Welcome back,” Tobirama murmurs, afraid this is just another dream.

“My winter,” Madara grins, teeth sharp as familiar glowing symbols appear on the visible skin, “thank you…”

Tobirama’s heart beats painfully as he drinks in the sight of his summer, it had been too long since he’d seen his eternal partner in all his glory. His joy quickly turns to worry when Madara sways again and only his arm around the older god’s waist keeps him up right. “Madara!?”

“I’m fine,” the summer god mutters, even as he leans heavily on Tobirama, “just tired…”

“Ah, I suppose you really can’t feel the power you just got back,” Tobirama chuckles, though it sounds a little strained even to his own ears. It would make sense that Madara’s power was still largely absent, it was still Tobirama’s solstice after all, but he was still concerned about his eternal partner.

“Take me home?” Madara requests, his voice quiet in a way that suggests a deeper hurt.

“Of course my winter,” Tobirama mutters, brushing a kiss against the other’s forehead. It’s very telling when Madara doesn’t fight being swept up into a bridal-style hold; if Tobirama shatters the Uchiha icicles in his anger, well Madara doesn’t seem to notice. The two gods disappear in a swirl of snow before a record shattering storm wipes the entire compound off the face of the earth.

Madara barely stirs as they reappear in his human house, and Tobirama frowns as he lays the newly reborn god on the bed. It was clear Madara had been deeply hurt by the Uchiha, betrayed by the ones he thought he loved, and he would need some time away from the other gods to heal. Tobirama is just selfish enough to hide away both their magics, he wanted to keep Madara to himself for a little longer.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Madara grumbles, cracking one eye open to glare at his partner, “I’m trying to sleep.”

“Now who said you get to sleep?” Tobirama chuckles, gracefully dropping down on the bed and pinning the weaker god under him. “I seem to recall making you a promise on the last solstice we spent together.”

“You did?” Madara mutters, his brows furrowing in confusion. It takes him a few moments to remember the last time he’d been with his winter like this, so many centuries ago, but when he remembers a lovely blush colors his cheeks. “With how tired I am, you might be able to keep me out until Spring, if you’re lucky.”

“One day you will learn to stop doubting my skills,” Tobirama chuckles, leaning down and claiming Madara’s lips in a searing kiss that chases all the bad thoughts away.

[maree-ff]

Blast in the Past

CAMILA

I’ve been pacing throughout the women’s restroom for over fifteen minutes trying to get my head right. Of course I feel terrible for having Andre wait on me at the table but I needed to have a moment to myself before we continue this dinner. My phone is out there with him in my purse so he can’t reach me to ask if I’m okay. 

“Why am I such a horrible person?” Walking over to the mirror I stared at myself, gnawing on my lip feeling myself about to lose control. The tears built up anyhow despite my efforts to remain cool. When the first one fell I felt my breath quicken and slow down drastically. “I don’t deserve you.” I muttered in the midst of my breakdown. Lifting my hand to give attention to this ring I slapped my opposite hand over my mouth, crying even harder. 

The old Camila used to firmly believe she wouldn’t find a good man. The present version of myself has one and after so many years, memories, security, and the greatest love I have ever known, I’m realizing I don’t deserve him. Noise from outside the bathroom entrance snapped me back to reality. I quickly grabbed some paper towels, wet them and cleaned up my face. I’m not in the greatest head space and the last thing I need is a stranger pestering me about why I look so sad. 

After killing some more time in front of the mirror, fixing my outfit and hair I put an end to my pity party. Leaving the ladies room with a calm expression on my face I walked back to our table. When I rounded the corner I saw Andre staring into space with his hands cupped over his mouth. The closer I came to the table I could tell that he fought his urges to make immediate eye contact with me. He opted for the latter not wanting to put me on the spot. My hand lightly touched the chair just as he jumped up from his seat to pull mine out. 

My eyes met his as he towered over me slightly and only then did I reflect on the four hours we spent locked in that room. I kept a mental note of how many times we made love but after the first three climaxes I lost count. I cried each time without failure or forewarning. During the last two rounds he cried as well. That was the first time he’s ever gotten emotional in bed. That four hour long session was the first time I begged for him to cum inside of me. Every single round. I was so fucked up in the head I wanted the chances of me getting pregnant to be higher than normal. The carelessness of us going through with my demands was beyond pleasing. 

He gently placed his palm against my back waiting for me to sit. The warmth of his skin seeped through my blouse making me emotional yet again. I finally sat down allowing him to push me closer to the table. When he sat across from me I thought of Jorden, Zoe, and Kenja, wondering how the aftermath of this dinner will impact our family dynamic. The conversation we’re about to have is surely going to ruin what we’ve built since I agreed to be his confidant in Texas. 

Exhaling as softly as I could I crossed one leg over the other, tapping my heel against my leg. Our food came as did the bottle I asked for and still the silence dominated our table. We hardly looked at one another as we ate, drank, and repeated the same motions until both of our plates were clean. The bottle of Sauvignon was replaced with another and then two glasses half full of Brandy. From underneath the table I could feel the warmth of his legs as I switched the position of my own. He didn’t move away or give me a strange look. He simply welcomed the presence of my exposed toes touching his pant leg. 

One of us has to speak or else we’ll just grow animosity towards the other. I don’t want that. I love Andre way too much to let that happen. I gulped down my drink in an instant, pushed the glass and my plate aside. 

“I’m sorry.” Him and I speaking simultaneously took us both by surprise. For the first time in weeks we shared a genuine but slightly drunken laugh. 

“I’ll go first. I’m so sorry for how I’ve been acting towards you. Coming off withdrawn and uninterested in our relationship was never my intention. I love you with all of my heart Andre I swear I do-“ 

“Please don’t say that.” He warned. The sad expression on his face has me on the brink of tears. He grasped my hand, being sure to touch base with my ring. “Say anything but that.” I could tell he wanted to beg and plead but the audience aided him in keeping his cover. 

“This conversation isn’t one we can keep putting off. I’ve been avoiding it and so have you. We owe it to each other to continue to be honest no matter what’s going on. No matter how bad things get, remember?” I countered, pressing my thumb into the corner of my eye to stop myself from crying out here. 

He switched to my side of the table, getting lost in toying with anything on me to avoid the subject. 

“Baby, we have to talk about this. Please.” It’s time to pull out all of my tricks in order to get him to open up. Andre has always been forthcoming about his feelings towards me and anything else in life. It’s one of the qualities I became attracted to so quickly in him. But at the end of the day he’s still a man who has the tendency to shy away from certain topics. 

“I can’t. I can’t have that conversation with you, Camila. I really can’t.” He fought back just as I expected him too. Pulling out my first ploy I traced the waves in his hair melting internally at how soft they are. The scent of his hair products filled my nose, putting a smile on my face. 

“Andre..we can’t keep avoiding each other like the plague. This awkward vibe between us has carried on for too long now. The kids are starting to notice and rather than them coming to us about their concerns, our parents are forced to fill in the gaps. You and I pretending like nothing has ch-”

Andre decided to one up my power move by touching me back, in a way others don’t need to see. Of course. That’s the testosterone coming out to play. 

“Don’t. We’ve been through too much for you to all of a sudden tell me your feelings for me have changed. Or worse, faded indefinitely. I can’t lose you. After all the bullshit I faced in the past I deserve to have a lifetime filled with peace. A lifetime sleeping and waking up next to one of my favorite human beings in the world. I cannot lose you and I’ll be damned if I do.” The delicacy at which his fingertips were drawing circles against my skin made me crave more of his touch. 

I let a tear slip as I moved into him. “You will never lose me. Nunca perderás mi amor. Not for anyone or anything. If you won’t talk can you at least listen to what I have to say? Please?” One kiss to the lining of his jaw had him squirming for more gentle affection. I obliged knowing that’s what he’s been yearning for. 

“Okay.” He agreed. 

“Something has changed between us. I don’t know what it is but I can feel it. I can feel the shift in energy at home, in that room..in us. My gut feelings have never led me astray. And if it counts for anything, this is the first time I’ve felt like this at all. I’m not sure how to go about acting like we are who we used to be when we’re not. We vowed to be honest about any problems that arise in our union and I will always uphold my end of that bargain,” cupping his chin to point his eyesight in my direction I raked the tips of my fingernails through his perfectly groomed beard. “And I know you will too.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” He questioned. 

“No poppa you did not do anything wrong. I just..I can feel that we’ve changed. Like I said earlier, I still love you and I always will but I don’t deserve you right now.” Sitting up straight I got into position to take my ring off. I felt his stare and when I lifted my head I saw a tear fall from his left eye. 

“Wait..you’re serious? You don’t want to be with me anymore? Why? What did I do?” He babbled. “Baby wait, I can fix this.” He openly expressed his emotions not caring who’s able to see him out of sorts. “Camila please, don’t do this.” He sniffled. 

I used every ounce of strength not to show out. I pressed on with removing my ring but he forced me to stop. 

“Stop. Leave it alone. This belongs with you.” He argued gently. 

“Andre, I can’t wear this ring. Not right now. I don’t deserve to have this if we’re not in a good place. It doesn’t make sense. I won’t feel right. Please tell me that you understand?” 

Andre disagreed. I can see the anger brewing inside of him but I know he won’t dare express that side of him with so many people around. He pushed my ring back up my finger and forced my hands elsewhere. As expected the quiet allotted us time to gather ourselves and our thoughts. 

“How do you expect for our kids to react seeing us act different towards each other? How are you gonna explain to Jorden why his dad is not around? Or how about you explaining to the girls that their mama has to be the provider all by herself?” There’s the anger. I knew it wasn’t far from the surface. 

Taking a deep breath I fiddled with my ring as Andre forced my hands in his lap. I chuckled dryly seeing that this conversation is taking a hard left. 

“Okay hold on. Before you go into a full blown rampage let me explain something first. Number one, we will not act different towards each other. My love for you has never faded or wavered and it never will. I will always respect you and be kind to you. Especially in front of our kids. You mean the world to me and you are the father to our children, so let’s make that clear. Number two, you are not going anywhere. Jorden, Zoe and Kenja will not see any less of you than they do now. You are their father, that love is not changing and they need you. As you need them. Number three, I’m not doing this alone. We started this family together and we will die as one. Nunca olvides que.” Swallowing the mass in my throat I composed myself and took a deep breath in and out. 

“None of this shit makes sense. None of it. I thought we were good. I don’t understand.” Leaning into the table Andre covered his face. When he shifted so did my hands and body. The palm of my hand is now resting warmly against the keys to this entire equation. The piece of him that is the reason behind Zoe and Jorden’s existence. 

“Andre?” I called to him. Gripping his shoulder I leaned in, getting handsy. 

He turned over his left shoulder eyeing me heavily. 

“Don’t call me by first name right now.” He warned me. “That shit sounds too foreign. It sounds like I don’t mean shit to you.” That snarl set up on his face was enough of a warning but I understand his frustration. 

“Okay, I’m sorry. But to be fair that is your name honey. And last I checked the only thing foreign is me and my first language.” I smiled. 

“I love you but now is not the time for either one of us to be joking around. Why don’t you want to be with me anymore? Why would you even want to take that ring off? I’ve worked my ass off to prove to you how much I want a life with you. I’ve worked my ass off to turn my life around so we could be together. I’ve worked my ass off to be the best boyfriend, father, and partner to you. Now you want to throw all that away? How can you just throw me away like that? I have never given myself to any woman like I’ve given myself to you. Please don’t leave me baby I need you.” 

“Baby, come on now, stop that. I already told you this is not the end of us. I just think you and I need to figure out what happened between us. That fire is no longer a fire it’s merely a..a..little flame to a small candle.” 

Turning around in his chair with determination, a rising noise level and some attention I didn’t want, he kissed me. And I’m not saying just some regular old, PG rated kiss. No, I’m talking about the kind that makes even the shortest of hairs on your body stand up. The kind that makes your loins feel like there engulfed in flames. The kind that could lead to the making of a baby and throw in a sibling for later on down the road as a surprise. A surprise such as finding out you’re carrying triplets instead of just twins. The kind of kiss that takes your breath away and never gives it back. 

I’m sure the folks around us are giving us all types of interesting looks. But neither one of us cares. 

“Don’t do this.” He groaned against my lips. He got me started up again after I had to force myself to relax and remember we’re in public. “Don’t end this. It’s not worth it.” Andre went from supplying me with his oxygen to weeping quietly on my shoulder. I managed to regulate my breathing like normal again while staring at the ceiling. Him hiding away in the crook of my neck was the only chance I was going to get to remove the ring. 

The logical part of me says he needs to take this ring and put it away. I wouldn’t feel right as a woman nor would I feel like myself holding onto such a valuable piece of jewelry. My movements were cautious and drawn out not wanting any added attention put on us. 

“Where do you expect me to go? That’s our home.” He reminded me. 

Batting my eyes and blinking rapidly I put my arms around him. I don’t even know what to say at this point. Any words that could make this conversation any easier are beyond me. 

“I-” I began to come up with something and then I lost it. The distraction stemmed from his hand teasing both halves of my top. “Not here..” I felt every muscle contract and release as he fondled my chain and it’s pendant alongside my breasts as if we were in the comfort of our own home. “Dre, come on now, this isn’t the place. People can see us.” I tired bargaining with him while being careful not to displace my ring. 

“Now is the perfect time and the perfect place.” He responded back with some attitude. He carried on this way for the longest four minutes I’ve ever lived through, backing away just a bit to put the ring back on. 

“I told you I can’t we-”

“This is your ring. I worked so hard for such a long time to find this ring and have it custom made just for you.” As he lifted my hand I concealed myself fully aware that I do not have a bra on. He’s aware too which is why I’m surprised he was just all over me. “When I was trying to decide which cut I thought you’d love more I thought about the first time you shared with me which fruit was your favorite. The fact that you can demolish a multitude of pears in one sitting is nothing like what I have ever seen. Anyways, I couldn’t just stick to silver because it’s so plain and you are far from that. It didn’t feel right to me. That’s when I got help from the girls and let them choose the white gold. Kenja was speechless when she saw the finished product. And Zo was over the moon about the idea of us getting married. She said if I didn’t ask you that night she was gonna give it you herself. My first thought was to have the ring come in at three carats. And then I thought back to our four year anniversary and stuck with that number.” He explained. 

I had no idea how much meaning is actually behind this engagement ring. I wasn’t aware that he got help from our daughters on the details either. Now I really feel the worst person in the world. There’s nothing more I appreciate than for a man to go through so much work and effort to make his woman happy. There’s no amount of times I can say how grateful I am for the lengths Andre has gone to make this ring as special as it is. His confession proves I truly don’t deserve anything that he has given to me with the exception of our babies. 

Cupping my mouth with shaky hands and the ring poking at my skin. “Please just take this.” Hurriedly shoving the diamond into the pocket of his shirt I bowed my head with shaky hands covering my mouth again. “God, I’m so sorry.” I wept. “I’m so so sorry.” The tears flowed, the hiccups took over me and the intensity of them. 

Without another publicly made argument Andre took care of our dinner tab and drove us home. For the first time in so many years we rode in silence. Complete and utter silence. I was too busy weeping in the passenger seat clutching my heart with my left hand. This hand feels so much lighter and so naked because of what I did and I hate it. I know it seems crazy that I miss my ring but I do! That ring was gifted to me at the perfect time in our lives. It’s a symbol of the hard work he has put in to purchase the ring in the first. The proposal was a symbol of Andre getting over his fears and making it known to me and our family how much he wants to have a lifetime with me. 

Andre didn’t say a word. He didn’t even turn on the radio and shockingly neither of our phones rang. 

The awkwardness came when we stepped in the house and the kids were all in our faces. The girls asked how our date went, what did we eat, did Andre buy me anything, the works. Jorden also asked questions but in his own special way. Whenever Dre and I go out alone we tend to get a bit dressed up just for the hell of it. It’s something we’ve gotten in the habit of doing. That being said, the kids always know when we’re going out for alone time. 

We put on happy faces and answered their questions without a shred a negativity flowing from our mouths. Together we promised that we would keep up a good face in front of the family and our children especially when we’re having problems. Tonight is no different. Andre took the lead tonight by giving Jorden his bath, helping him brush his teeth and dressing him for bed. After that he went to Zoe and Kenja’s room to assist them in getting ready for bed too. I stayed put in the front of the house cleaning up alongside Divya. She’s been quiet which gives me the impression she knows something is up. 

“I don’t mean to pry but are you okay sweetie?” She spoke up from the dining room table. 

I glanced up from the dishes I was washing and nodded curtly. “I’m alright. How were they? Did they give you a hard time while we were gone?” I asked. Rinsing off the dishes I’ve already cleaned I leaned over to place them in the dishwasher. 

“Not at all. I have the most well behaved grandchildren a grandmother could ask for. I don’t know what kind of spell you four put on these kids before they’re in Victor and I’s presence..but it works! Jorden ate well, even asked for seconds. The girls got all of their homework done and helped me fix dinner.” Divya’s good report boosted my mood and lifted some of the sadness off of me. Hearing about our kids behaving for their grandmother is music to my ears after the stunt I pulled at dinner. 

“Was he still asking about milk?” I countered. 

Divya chuckled in glee, “Yes. Yes he did. I gave him a little but he doesn’t know I mixed what you left and some of that nut milk Andre made.” She explained. 

“I’m not sure how long it'll take to get him weaned off of mine. I feel like a bad parent for still giving in to his soft demands for milk. He’ll be three in September and I don’t know what else to do.” Taking a deep breath I finished up with the dishes and cleared the counters and stove off to wipe everything down. 

“Camila, it’s normal for kids to have difficulty transitioning from breast milk to regular liquid. There’s no book or article that definitively says when a mother has to stop breastfeeding. Or in your case still supplying that milk as a regular drink. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve that I can try out the next I have him. And don’t you worry I will share those same tips with you. Do you want me to put these in the machine?” 

I looked over at Divya to see her pointing towards the dining room tablecloths and place mats. Giving her the okay I hustled around the kitchen wiping down the appliances until the room smelled fresh again. Putting the bottles away I moved the items on the counter back to their rightful place. 

Divya being here cuts the awkwardness down tremendously. The minute she steps out of the house, we’ll be playing a whole new ball game. Divya and I spoke briefly just as Andre was entering the room with Jorden in his arms. 

“Mommy..” he called to me. His sweet voice combined with Andre’s facial expression made my eyes swell with tears. 

“Hi baby..” Andre traded places with me after I said goodnight to his mom. “Why are you still up?” Welcoming his delicate affection to various regions of my face I walked upstairs to his room. 

“What is the matter with you?” I overheard Divya say to him. 

“Nothing ma..” he lied. 

Snuggling Jorden close to my chest I was happy that he’s being still enough so I can eavesdrop. 

“I know that look baby. I know Camila quite well and you even better. Why do you look so sad?” She presses on with ease but concern. 

“I’m tired. I haven’t been this exhausted in a while.” He uttered. Twice in two minutes he’s lied straight to his mother’s face. Divya would never forgive me if she found out what I did. 

“I won’t press you to open up but when you’re ready to talk you know where I am. Give me a hug so I can get home. I love you sweet pea.” I heard the two of them shuffling around and then the front door opened. 

“I love you too.” He said. The house was quiet again so I quietly crept upstairs to get Jorden into bed. Andre had gotten the core of the work completed leaving me the task of reading Jo whatever story he wanted to hear. The two of us got settled in his rocking chair wrapped up in his blanket. 

I began reading ‘Guess How Much I Love You’ feeling the words hit close to home. Reading this book to our son has me regretting the decision I made earlier this evening. However it doesn’t shake the feelings I have on why I made the decision. Something between us has been feeling off and I can’t put my finger on exactly what it is. That is the big question that I don’t have an answer to. Why? Why do I feel this way? 

Bowing my head to see if Jorden was still awake I smiled at his eyes closing and reopening at the sound of my voice. Grasping the book in one hand I rocked back and forth, running my nails through Jorden’s curls. Breaking my baby off of my body is a hard task because I’ve gotten comfortable with nursing again. Now it’s time for my little man to move on from that phase in his life. He still finds comfort in being pressed against my chest when I hold him. Like right now the tips of his fingers are tucked away in my blouse fanning them out every couple of seconds. Being that I’m braless tonight he has easy access to my breasts. 

“Mommy loves you so much. Never forget that. I’ll tell you any time you want to hear it, when you need to hear it and all times in between. Okay?” Pausing to kiss the crown of his head I rocked slower, starting a smooth rhythm. This will surely get him to fall asleep. 

“Luf you mama..” he got out just above a whisper. 

I kept on with the soft rocking but put down the book to focus on him. With both arms around his body I closed my eyes briefly. Jorden and I must have fallen into a pretty deep sleep because the next thing I felt was my lap become lighter. My eyes flew open to see Andre taking Jorden from me. 

“What time is it?” I yawned. 

“Almost eleven-thirty. How long has be been out?” Dre asked. He tucked Jo in bed, pulling the blankets up over him. 

“Um..a while now. How long have I been in here?” Standing up from the chair I stretched my arms above my head feeling several bones crack. Andre initially started laughing as if I told a joke that wasn’t funny but he did anyhow so he wouldn’t hurt my feelings. “Why are you laughing?” I asked with some attitude. 

“Because you clearly don’t remember falling asleep. I thought you were still trying to get him to go to sleep but instead I found the two of you knocked out. Come on..” 

Before he could get me out of the room I went back to give our little boy my love. Afterward, Dre and I went into our room leaving the door open so we can listen out for the kids. He helped take off some of my jewelry and my shoes and even unbuttoned the back of my blouse. I thanked him, disappearing into the bathroom to wash my face. 

The duration of my time spent in the bathroom I was alone. The crippling feeling of not knowing whether Andre could stand to be around me any longer brought me to tears. My knees even. I must have knelt in the shower, knees pressed to the tile with the water beating down on my head for ten minutes. That’s just an estimate. The uncertainty of whether or not Andre would be in the room played tricks on my mind. Suddenly the bathroom door opened up and he walked in. Shoulders slouched, stress on his face, laziness in his stride..he’s not himself. I’m to blame for this all. 

Slamming my hairbrush down I spun around to watch Andre busy himself. In this moment I feel invisible, unwanted, and no longer loved. 

“Please tell me that you still love me?” I paused to see if my first question would grab his attention. It did. He turned to look over his shoulder briefly and further once I opened my mouth back up. “Or even like me as a person. Tell me that you still care. I just need something. I’m sorry about earlier I really am but please don’t walk around making me feel like I’m not important. Don’t walk past me and not speak. I know what I did wasn’t fair and that it hurt you but I have feelings too.” 

“When did you hear me say that I don’t love you anymore? When did you hear me say I dislike you? And I know I damn sure didn’t mean to make you feel like you were no longer important to me.” He argued back. 

“I saw the way you looked at me when you walked into the room while your mom and I were talking. You can’t stand there and tell me that you’re not the least bit angry or upset even.” 

“I’m hurt, Maree. You hurt me tonight..alright? You really fucking hurt me. I don’t know how you expect me to act right now. I’m not gonna walk around and be a dick towards you or disrespect you in anyway but my feelings are hurt. My pride a little bit.” He sharply exhaled, laying his palms on top of his head. 

Sniffling I asked, “do you feel better now?” 

“Yeah I honestly do.” He nodded. 

“Por qué no dijiste nada?!” I cried. “You could’ve said that before!” Realizing that my volume was too loud I rushed past him to close our door just a little to decrease the chances of waking the kids up. I stood at the door gripping the knob just watching my tears hit my own feet and the floor. The water dripping from my head made me shiver. 

That’s when he appeared in front of me with the clothes I had laid out on the bed. I changed and threw myself down somewhere to give my feet a rest. 

“I should’ve told you sooner, you’re right and I’m sorry that I didn’t. I was in shock hearing you say that something has changed between us. Personally I disagree because I don’t feel like anything is different. Watching you try to take that ring off the very first time broke my heart. And to see you not wearing it now isn’t making this conversation any better. Are you mad at me for waiting so long to do it? Or are you mad that we haven’t gotten married already? I know it’s been quite some time since I proposed to you but I never wanted you to think that was the end of it. Life got in the way baby. You and I both work, we brought a baby into our home and that itself is a challenge.” Andre preached. 

He switched places with me, laying my legs over his. I lowered my head to his shoulder, both arms thrown around his neck to keep myself steady. A big part of me feels like I just lost the best thing that has ever happened to me. This man is the reason behind my kids, happiness, peace of mind and safety. He’s done so much to protect me, provide for me and spoil me with. But the only spoiling that truly counts for me is him spoiling me with his love. I love hearing Andre tell me how much he loves me or any part of me. 

The fabric of his crew neck grew moist under my cheek as I lay here crying over my stupid, selfish mistake. 

“I don’t have to move out do I? At least not yet?” He quizzed. His warm lips kissed my forehead with tenderness while he rubbed my bare back. 

“You’re not going anywhere.” Sitting up straight I reached for my eyes only to be beaten to it. I stared into his eyes feeling so many emotions hit me at once. “Thanks. Not just for this but for everything I can and can’t remember. Everything I have seemed ungrateful for, I thank you for.” 

“You’re always welcome.” He smiled. 

That spec of hope I saw in his eyes is all I need to hold onto for the rest of our days here on earth.

[noa-halevy]

SENDING A MESSAGE:

Introducing our first London Basement victim! So, this got way longer than I was intending, and I am sorry for that, but I really have missed writing mob violence, so you’ll have to forgive me. Introducing two upcoming Russian characters in the best way possible! This will set off plenty of drama, now. You’ll see when you read. Enjoy!

Date: May 8th, 2019. Warnings: To be fair, it’s not as violent as I was intending, but...you know. There are Russians so it’s a little bleak. Blood and all that.

“Wake up.”

A startling phrase when the last thing she remembered doing was running.

It would’ve been difficult to describe the pain she felt as she begrudgingly returned to consciousness because everything fucking hurt. All she could taste was blood. All she could hear was a throbbing in her skull so intense she was sure she remembered nothing because they’d bludgeoned it out of her. As Noa was pulled abruptly from her knees to her feet—a merciless tug on the chains that bound her wrists above her head more than enough to encourage another grunt of pain—the sullen realisation that this was only going to get worse settled quickly.

Well, fuck.

Did she jog all the way to Launceston and not fucking realise it?

“I said wake up, pizda. There’s somebody who wants to see you.”

And all it took was that one word for her blood to run cold.

When Noa finally opened her bloodshot eyes, regret came in an instant. The dim lights that hung overhead were enough to make her wince in pain, and illuminated a room so eerily familiar that she wished, albeit briefly, that she hadn’t woken up.

It took a moment to focus. To make sense of just what the fuck her complacency had her stumbling into this time. London was safe, she’d said; safer than there. Yeah, until it wasn’t so safe anymore. Until she was chained up in a warehouse, with what she could only assume to be a body underneath the tarpaulin to her left, and a smug looking prick reeling off Russian curses purposefully enough that it had to be to identify himself.

“You came all this way for little old me? I’m flattered.”

“Yeah? Well make the most of it. You killed two of his men in the attempt to get you here. Good luck feeling flattered when you’re fucking dead.”

Noa was certain that some of her ribs had been broken in the struggle to subdue her—each new breath with her arms above her head was a blaze of agony—but the way the lackey said ‘his’ was enough to make her feel like she’d been booted all over again. Was that a hint at familiarity? Was she supposed to know? Whilst she’d dealt with more Russians than most in her time (even if it was usually out of choice) there were a few that’d stood out as more meaningful than the rest—one in particular. The last thing she wanted when she felt like she was dying was a reunion with the antichrist that would end in her actually fucking dying.

The sound of the door opening was enough to rip her away from her very angry thoughts, and the man who waltzed through enough to stun the pain out of her momentarily.

What the fuck were they doing in London, and how the fuck hadn’t anybody picked up on it?

When their eyes met across the damp and derelict shit hole she was now sure would stage her final moments, her stomach felt as though it was about to fall out of her ass. So it was the one she’d dreaded the most; uncomfortably familiar after all this time and yet still like a stranger. Noa wondered if he felt the same. If the reason she was chained up like this was because she was familiar enough for it to be gratifying, but now so strange to him that their once inconvenient aversion to murdering each other had expired. When he smiled she realised that she really did hate him more than any of the others.

“It’s been a while, Noa.” Even the sound of his voice exacerbated her rage. “Miss me?”

“Which part?” It eventually came out as a scoff, and the pain in her chest immediately punished her for it. To show weakness in front of him, however, was very different from showing it in front of that little fuck watching them from his corner. He was stood in front of her now, face to face, and she cared little for the disdain she offered the one who had her life in his hands. “Your sixteen brain cells, your weedy arms, or the disappointingly small dick?”

The woman could see the soldier shift uncomfortably out of the corner of her eye.

“That’s funny,” the man before her said sarcastically. “I don’t remember you ever complaining.”

“Did you really go through all this effort to have a conversation about—”

Before Noa could finish her characteristically flippant comeback, an unforgiving fist collided with her stomach with force enough she was reminded why he was so good at instilling terror in his enemies. It took a minute to get her breath back. The way she was restrained meant she couldn’t keel over, even if her body needed it. Her eyes watered as she fought the pain with every ounce of energy she could muster. She cursed him in his dirty fucking language.

“You always did talk too much, Halévy.”

Noa could practically feel the glare radiating from the man as he looked down at her, and as much as she wanted to tell him to get fucked—to go back to Launceston and rot like him and his scummy family deserved—when he reached out his fingers to tuck stray strands of hair behind her ear, none of it manifested. She remained silent, and his hand found her jaw in a way it hadn’t for years. It startled her and it didn’t; the stark contrast to his violence a moment before summing him up perfectly. If she hadn’t known him, known what he was, it could’ve been mistaken for an act of concern as he ran his thumb slowly across her split bottom lip.

It was more likely he was admiring the handiwork of his friends.

He was so close she could feel his breath against her skin.

The proximity was decidedly not helping her nausea.

When his fingers threaded into her hair, she knew what was coming, but still couldn’t bring herself to turn away and stop it. It was like muscle memory; she hadn’t kissed him like this in nearly ten years, and yet her body hadn’t forgotten a thing. It wasn’t chaste, and it wasn’t gentle, and with a hand at each side of her face, he was the one with all the leverage. For a minute she was fucking lost. The shitty reincarnation of the basement was gone, the pain was gone…everything but an empty reminder of a relationship that had died over a decade ago—if it had ever even lived—was lost in their heated exchange. Even when he parted for air, his lips remained; hand trailing around to take a loose hold of her throat.

“I’m pretty sure married women aren’t supposed to kiss like that,” he said, blunt but quiet. Noa could practically feel his smirk. “How is Daniel, by the way?”

If she hadn’t been terrified of the consequences, she’d have bitten his fucking lip off.

Noa tilted her head up slowly, teasing him with the idea of a second. The words that followed were sharp. Deliberate. “How’s Katya?”

It was then the hand around her throat began to squeeze. Hard.

His grip was like a fucking vice and if it hadn’t been for the interruption soon after, she was sure she’d have been seeing stars.

“Maksim, we’ve got to hurry this up. You almost done?”

Aviv Kasyanenko. Noa should’ve known. They didn’t go anywhere without each other.

Even though the Kurylenko had since let go of her throat, she didn’t feel any relief with the knowledge that his best friend was still present. The Russians might’ve had a reputation for violence because they needed it to maintain control of their interests, but few enjoyed it as much as Aviv. When she glanced over to see him entering the frame, she couldn’t help but wonder whether strangulation at the hands of an ex-boyfriend might’ve been an act of mercy. When Maksim finally leaned in to whisper in her ear, Noa realised that this would no longer be a spiteful exchange of words.

“I’m going to hurt you now.”

It sent a chill up her spine.

She believed him.

“Unchain her,” Maksim ordered, backing away slowly.

Even though she’d been in similarly dire situations before, the panic was setting in quickly now. It didn’t take a fucking genius to figure that these odds were not in her favour. Noa might’ve taken down men like Aviv in the past, but only when she had worked to give herself the upper hand. Usually, she wasn’t so fucking beat up and disoriented from head trauma, either. Fuck. This was it. She was fucking dead. How the fuck was this happening? In London?

“Wait,” Maksim interrupted calmly as the soldier reached for the chains. “Break her leg.”

Noa froze.

“What?! No.”

“What?” The soldier echoed, looking uncomfortable. Perhaps he was new at this. “Really?”

“Have you ever been hit in the face by this cunt? If we’re about to unchain her, break her fucking leg. I don’t want her to be able to walk, let alone kick.” The Russian grabbed a metal bar and tossed it toward the soldier. “Take out her knee.”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” The protest exploded out of her. Her eyes were wide. Her struggle was pointless. It didn’t matter how much she tried to back away from the man who slowly approached like a fucking executioner when she was still chained to the ceiling. There was nowhere to run. No way to protect herself or fight back. “I swear to fuck, I will ram that thing so far up your ass if you touch me. I will fucking kill you, you little prick!”

It was amazing how quickly pain was dulled by adrenaline.

As soon as he was within striking distance, and with considerable effort to lift herself via her chained hands, she managed to swing just close enough to deliver one of the aforementioned kicks right to the side of his head. Whilst she might not have wielded anything close to her usual strength, and she paid for the action with a terrible cracking in her restrained arm, it was enough to put him on his ass. Enough to halt him if only for a moment whilst she figured out what the fuck she had to do to get out of this. The soldier shouted. So did Maksim and Aviv as they approached.

“You can’t just make this easy, huh?”

Everything felt like a blur. The whole fucking scenario was surreal.

Noa writhed as Aviv grabbed at her feet. No matter how desperately she tried to get another kick off he was too strong to overpower, and she had no room to manoeuvre. Whilst he held her ankles, it was Maksim that snatched the metal bar from the stunned soldier who was still rolling around on the floor. The crashing of the chains as she fought his grip was loud, but nothing compared to the shout that followed as he slammed the bar right into the side of her head. It wasn’t enough to knock her out but that was no doubt the point. He wanted her to feel the pain. He wanted her to be awake for whatever was coming next. There was fury in his eyes as he repositioned himself, and brought back the bar once more to slam it into her knee with so much aggression he must’ve been waiting for this moment.

With the way Aviv was holding her legs? It was shattered.

The woman was sure that she’d never experienced anything more painful in her life and she’d been fucking stabbed.

All thoughts of not looking weak dissipated. Noa cried, until they finally unchained her and she fell to the floor, where the sobs became guttural.  

It took her a moment to remember how to breathe. They seemed to allow it.

“Why are you doing this?” Even though she managed to choke the question out, it didn’t sound like her anymore. “Why are you here? What the fuck do you want?”

The words were stunted, between gasps, strangled by her sobs. Noa had never sounded more pathetic in her life and they were no doubt enjoying every second of her suffering.

“We’re doing this because we hate you,” Aviv reminded her bitterly.

“We’re here because we were invited,” Maksim cut him off, crouching down near the woman who was now pretty close to foetal. “We want you to relay a message to your boss. Not just that we’re in town, and that we’re here to stay, but that the Rutherfords invited us.”

Even in her sorry state, where she could focus on little more than the pain in her leg, those words registered. They registered because they were so fucking ridiculous he had to be lying.

The Rutherfords invited them?

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s a pity you didn’t make Commandant,” Aviv segued before she could question it further, kicking at her hand as if to point out her lack of signet ring. “You’re a waste of fucking space.”

“Think you can do that for me, Noa?” Maksim asked, raising an eyebrow as though it was the most reasonable request in the world. “I’m going to let you leave if you make sure to tell Laurent everything I just told you. Maybe follow it up with a reminder that he’s next.”

“What about Danny, does Danny still have his ring?”

The two lines of questioning were enough to make her brain feel like it was in meltdown given the fact she was teetering on total fucking incapacitation. Never had she hated anyone more in her life than she hated them at that moment. She was sure she was going to be sick. Doubly so as Aviv pulled out the jangling chain that hung around his neck; the one that sported seven silver St. Clair signet rings and one gold that he arguably wore with more pride than those they’d been awarded to.

Noa let her head fall against the concrete, reaching up to wipe away the tears still streaming down her face.

All of this to send a message. How fucking Russian.

“Noa?”

“All right,” she snapped. “All right. I’ll tell him. I’ll tell them.”

“Good girl.”

“You could’ve just written a fucking letter,” she sniffed, rolling over onto her back. “Fucker.”

“And miss out on all of this fun?”

Now it was Aviv’s turn to step forward, and she flinched reflexively; never naïve enough to believe that shit with the Russians was over until it was really fucking over.

“Think if I took that ring, he’d come for it?” Aviv asked Maksim, kicking once more at her left hand. “He always struck me as a bit of a sentimental pussy.”

Maybe it was because she was hurting. Maybe it was because her mind was racing at a million miles an hour at the realisation the Russians were here. Maybe it was because she was still terrified that she wasn’t going to make it out of here alive. But she missed the subtle hints, and she sure as fuck missed that he was reaching into his bag for an implement that definitely wasn’t a gun.

It wasn’t until the sole of his boot crushed her wrist into the floor that she understood what was coming.

Aviv had collected those rings he wore around his neck.

Whilst she might not have had one of the Commandant’s Fleur-de-Lis signets he’d been hunting down for years, she had an engagement and wedding ring from one of the men who did.

It only took a second for the horror of what was to come to register.

Of course, a broken leg was far too tame.

Her heart stopped.

“Don’t struggle, all right? It just makes it messy.”

None of the French knew why he did it. They didn’t know why he removed the whole finger instead of just the ring. They didn’t know whether his victims were alive or dead when he took them.

Unfortunately for Noa, she had to leave alive if she was going to play messenger.

“Maks…” It came out as a plea. “Maks, please.”

“It was an honest mistake, Noa,” he said, sighing as though it was a trivial matter. “I thought you made Commandant, and might’ve promised him he’d get a ring out of this.”

“This will do,” Aviv said with a shrug, increasing the pressure on her wrist as he leaned down with what appeared to be a particularly nasty pair of cable cutters. “Just hold her still.”

“No. Fuck you, no—” each word that left her lips got louder “—Maks, if you let him do this, I will kill you. I swear it, I will fucking murder you.”

There was no way to snatch her hand away but oh fuck, she tried.

“Get the fuck away from me, Aviv!”

The struggling, the tugging, the screeching as he made his attempts to grab a hold of her ring finger; it would’ve given pause to anyone with a conscience, but these men had nothing close. In the struggle, she dislocated her elbow. Swung her legs up, despite the pain, in an attempt to boot the sick fuck in the head. It was all in vain. He had beaten stronger opponents than her.

“Please. I’m begging you, please don’t do this. No!”

The more she struggled, the more pissed off Aviv got, but she was too busy looking up at Maks—desperate to appeal to anything he had left—to notice.

It was just in time for the sole of another boot to smash down on her mouth.

Noa could feel herself choking on teeth. She could feel those that remained cutting into her lips. She could feel the pressure against her broken nose as she struggled once more to breathe through the panic and frustration and terror, and all she could taste the blood she couldn’t escape.

“What did I say about talking too much, huh?”

It might’ve been a solid attempt to gag her on Maksim’s part, but despite her shock—as Aviv finally managed to get the end of the cable cutters around her finger—there was nothing in the world that could’ve quietened the blood-curdling scream that followed. Though she’d pressed her eyes shut, body tensed in an attempt to ride out the pain, she failed.

Soon the screams faded into nothing.

Tomorrow, Noa would thank God that she was, once more, granted the mercy of unconsciousness. Just as she would ask forgiveness for what she would do on the day she finally crossed paths with the bastards responsible...

[thedistantstorm]

Phoenix Protocol 02

A Zavala x Female Guardian work.

Summary: When the Traveler’s Light was returned to the Guardians after the defeat of the Cabal, it did not manifest itself the same in everyone. Miyu, an Awoken Warlock, finds herself struggling with her abilities, her Light feeling different and not her own. With her Vanguard preoccupied with grief and all eyes turned to the Reef, she finds herself turning to an unlikely source in an attempt to rediscover her connection to the Light and define what it means for her as a Dawnblade.

[Previously]

Ikora always wants more.

By research, Ikora actually means to discuss Miyu stopping hers. Focusing on more important matters. The Reef. Uldren. Miyu wants nothing to do with any of it, and that is why she had willingly offered her services detaining escapees from the Prison of Elders despite not actually wanting to do that at all.

It gives Miyu time to actually complete some more secretive research on the side: why her Light is messed up. Why it feels like when she received hers back, after the war, it felt like it belonged to someone else, the person she used to be but wasn’t any more, coiling uneasily beneath her skin. She’s gone to Io. The Shard. Both under the guise of hunting escapees, but also to seek answers.

Neither place does and very day, the solar sword is more difficult to grasp, wings of flame beyond her reach. Telling her Vanguard that didn’t work. Ikora didn’t understand. The Void has always been at her fingertips, for as long as she’s been connected to the Traveler. With that in mind, Miyu attempts to adapt her argument, listens to Ikora insisting that she push herself and hopes that eventually either her own efforts or Ikora’s reasoning pays off.

Ikora still demands an answer, though. Wants Miyu to give her something. So, Miyu presents her personal thoughts. Based on her research, she finds that her connection to the Light is strongest while meditating or calling upon her abilities in the midst of a healing rift. Ikora is not impressed. Miyu isn’t expecting her to be. She tells Ikora the truth - that she does not believe offensive maneuvers are her true calling, not anymore. It’s something she’s believed for a while now. She can hear Ghost cheering her on in her mind for being honest - for expressing her opinion. That was rare. Miyu hated doing so, especially when she knew it was going to be an unpopular one.

Ikora, in response, cites battles, strikes, accolades. Ikora always measures a Warlock’s worth in accolades.

Miyu measures a person - Guardian, Human, Exo, Awoken, whatever - in terms of character. Heart. Sometimes she thinks that’s why she just doesn’t fit in with her more intellectual colleagues, aside from not being sneaky and clever like the Hidden or having half the honors or titles that Ikora’s top-tier Warlocks have. Put a sword in her hands and Miyu can cut down almost anyone or anything. But have her infiltrate a group and act a certain way, play a role of some sort? She’ll fail right away.

She is not an actress. She’s a Guardian. And to her knowledge, the definition of a Guardian is someone who protects. There has to be some merit in that, she’s told Ghost, and he - her best friend and most honest critic - agrees.

Ikora - Miyu thinks - must not think much of her. Still, the Void user pulls her back from her thoughts with praise. “Grey,” She says, “You are so much more than you give yourself credit for. You need to push yourself harder. Do not give up. I know you are better than this.”

It’s times like this that she wonders. Does Ikora know what her name is, really? Does Ikora even care? Miyu is beginning to think she’s just a faceless person, a puzzle that is challenging and therefore worth the more esteemed woman’s time. Ikora gave her hardly any face-time before the war, before she had these issues.

Regardless, the younger Warlock attempts to retain her composure. “Thank you. However, I would like to pursue my research on a more defensive Solar ability,” Miyu says, barely a whisper of defiance. “I believe it is possible.”

Ikora shakes her head. “Leave shielding for the Titans. A Warlock’s rift is not meant to protect. It is meant to heal or empower, and only briefly. Attempting to augment it is a waste of Light better spent on dispatching our enemies.”

Miyu sighs, but nods. “What would you have me do, then?”

The Warlock Vanguard crosses her arms, turns her back to Miyu and looks out at the City. “Take the most difficult Strikes and Patrols I can give you. Challenge yourself and you will find yourself calling upon your abilities more. If that does not help you to realign yourself with your Light,” She trails off, eyes narrowing on a fixed point beyond the horizon, “I will explore other paths. Your research is unnecessary at this time. If you require a project, I will send you to collect information from the Reef.”

The younger Warlock bows. “I understand,” Miyu says, schooling her features into something blank, and trying to sound collected and grateful, not detached and indifferent. “Thank you.”  This won’t help. She’s already tried this, Miyu thinks, but tries not to let it bleed into her demeanor.

“You’re welcome, Grey. You may go.”

Miyu turns her back to Ikora Rey, but waits until she is nearly to Banshee’s stall in the main portion of the Tower to let the frustration show on her face, a very quiet growl escaping her. Ghost appears at her side immediately. “I can’t believe she wouldn’t listen to you,” He says, sounding even more irritated than Miyu is. “I’m sorry,” He apologizes to her. “But I think you should keep working on it.”

“So do I.”

Ghost bobs, spinning around her in a wide circle of disbelief. “You do?”

“Yes.” Silver eyes cant over toward her Ghost’s single teal one. “I’ll do what she asks, and continue my research on my own. What else can I do?”

He sighs. “I know. I just wish it had gone differently.” He taps her cheek. “If you could have convinced her to watch you summon your-”

“We asked that the last two times and she refused. It’s okay, Ghost. I’m used to it being just you and me.” She reaches up to cup his small being with her hands, and holds him close. “Sometimes, I think it’s better that way.”

Ghost nuzzles against her abdomen in a return of their improvised hug, and wonders not for the first time if she considers leaving. He knows she doesn’t feel like she belongs here, that she’s trying so hard to fit into the roles dictated by social norms. Most of her fellow Guardians hurt her with their lack of understanding, their taunts. Most of them do not know how it feels to have their Light feel foreign to them. Still, she remains as gentle as she can, does her best to be kind to everyone she meets. It’s no wonder they don’t live within the confines of the Tower. The City folk are far kinder to his wayward Guardian than her own brothers and sisters. It’s a shame.

-/

Three days later, news hits the Tower. Cayde-6's killer has been eliminated. Almost everyone is celebrating. Miyu uses the general population's distraction to her advantage, slipping out to the training grounds recently restored near the base of the wall. There should be free space for her to experiment unseen, a rarity in the middle of the day.

She discards her gauntlets and lets the heavy, flame-retardant sleeves of her robes hang down over her palms. Pulls her sword from its sheath at her side. Ghost flutters around her, cones spinning silently in anticipation a safe distance away. She drops to her starting position, kicks off.

What she does not have in stealth or strength, she makes up with in skill. Some of it, Ghost believes, may have been written upon her from her first life, muscle memory and reflexes allowing her to pick up swordplay far more easily than ever anticipated. But not all of it. She worked hard to hone her skills, consulted archives and videos, took every ounce of criticism to heart.

He enjoys watching her dance throughout the training arena with her blade slashing out, parrying imaginary blows, each move fluid yet moving with unbelievable discipline and precision. However, he knows it will come soon. Can feel the tingle of Light, the increasing heat. She’s going to try without the rift. She always does, first. When her mind is clear, when she’s reached that place of blank-white concentration.

The Warlock sheaths her physical blade in a motion like lightning, before reaching out for the heat in the air, calling upon the Light in her soul to manifest the sword that answers the call of her heart. It always looks so effortless from afar.

It isn’t, though. He watches her throw the first one, scorching the dirt. Watches her call upon the second. Watches the flames spiral up her arm, paying no heed to her robes. Watches her grit her teeth and give form to the energy in her hand. This one doesn’t go as far, doesn’t track like the first.

The third fizzles into ash, blackens her fingertips. She screams, drops to her knees, slams her fists into the dirt. He doesn’t approach. He knows she wants to feel this, to commit it to memory - as if she hasn’t already, he thinks, but allows it to continue - and use it to fuel her. It’s how Ikora believes she will improve. Miyu doesn’t believe in it, but she tries anyway. He knows she’d try anything, to feel like herself again.

This is torture, but it’s therapeutic. She needs to let it out, to blaze, like the fiery powers locked inside her, refusing to come out the way they’re supposed to. The way they always had, before the Cabal had ripped them away by force.

Any changes in her personality, since the war, have been subtle. He notices the way her swordhand twitches after she lets the blades burn through her nerves. Can tell that where she might say ten words once, she now says six or five. Notices that where she’d try to be social once in a while, it takes a great deal of encouragement to convince her to approach a friendly face.

Ghost’s cones push out and then back in, spiraling around him in surprise as someone appears on his radar. Someone approaching, quickly. At a run. Miyu is pushing herself up, the rush of a healing rift spiraling out from beneath her. She doesn’t notice.

Another attempt is made to call upon the sword. She growls and braces her sword hand - gripping her left wrist with her right hand. Flames spit and spiral up both arms this time, fighting for purchase against the healing properties of the rift.

“Mi- Miyu?”

The small AI turns at the sound of the familiar voice. Oh, no.

Next

[warmau]

{Special} College!AU Hongseok

this was commissioned! | check out my other college!aus here

major: double major in acting & directing 

minor: n/a

sports: men’s swim team 

clubs: part of theater club, teacher’s assistant for intro acting classes, volunteers for the student government as a translator for foreign exchange students

hongseok ,,,,, has a personality that changes on the toss of a coin

hui says that there’s actor!hongseok and then there’s regular!hongseok

actor hongseok,,,,is who hongseok is when he’s in class. when he’s taking everything seriously. when he’s putting in every ounce of effort he has to grow as an actor - to prove his worth

when he looks serious, his profile handsome and stern

and then there’s regular hongseok,,,,,,who makes ugly faces and dances wildly even if the whole room is looking

the hongseok whose good at playing pranks, whose good at making you laugh no matter how down you are

and hongseok is silly - he has a natural talent to be a little weird, in a charming and almost infectious way

and his close friends all know this, they’re honestly baffled when people who’ve had one or two classes with him are like

“hongseok is so mature!!!! he knows so much about acting!!!!!”

and yuto is like “what hongseok are you talking about? it’s definitely not  our yang hongseok” LOL

and for as open and corny as he can be - hongseok still somehow manages to have a super strict schedule

he doesn’t miss class, he goes to all swim practices, he works out afterword, and he keeps his side of the dorm squeaky clean

no one understands how the same boy who rolls across the floor of study hall, humming the james bond theme 

messy hair and pointing his finger gun at hui with dead seriousness

is the same, studious person who gets up every morning at 7 am to go for a jog

“there’s nothing wrong with being funny and being fit - it’s not illegal”

“no hongseok, it’s just weird.”

“nothing wrong with being weird, have you looked in the mirror recently hui?”

“wHAT iS ThAT suppOSED to mEAN?”

but no seriously, when it comes down to acting - there’s a passion in hongseok that just cannot be matched

he’s dreamed about his debut for,,,,,for so long 

he talks to himself - monologues he’s memorized in his head

he watches videos of other actors, reads about how they train - how they warm up

he jokes around a lot - but he’s not joking around when it comes to his major. not at all.

so as much as his friends think he can be a dork, they know with acting - there’s talent there

and when hongseok finally lands his first role in a weekday drama - he’s blown away

and that drama is actually how you meet him 

and no it’s not ~super romantic~ like you’re a fellow actor and you see each other and fall in love

actually, you’re not even part of the set crew

you actually see the promotional photos for the drama when a friend shows them to you, excited that someone from your university is going to be on TV

they point out hongseok, he’s not the main character so he’s kind of in the background

he’s got this kind of nerdy look going on, simple khaki pants - button down shirt - big square framed glasses

but even all that can’t hide the natural beauty he has about him

but you just shrug, dramas aren’t really your thing. but it’s cool - you wish this dude luck

a couple of weeks it might be,the first episode comes out and everyone on campus is buzzing about it 

you see hongseok around, being crowded around like a celebrity even though he has maybe ten minutes of screen time apparently

and then,,,,,two nights later you’re at a karaoke party celebrating the end of midterms

your friends are all tipsy, falling against each other and being messy and when you step out to go order some waters from the front you pass by another room

the lights are dim, there’s a sad song coming from within and you can’t help but peek through the hole

you nearly skid over your own feet when you see who it is,,,,,,

“isn’t that,,,,what’s his name,,,hongseok?”

you whisper and although you feel like a top tier creep looking through the small window you’re also,,,,,,concerned

he’s in there - completely alone

he’s still got his jacket on too 

you blush when one of the workers brushes past you and gives you a look, you stop staring at hongseok and make way to get the waters - which you return to your own room

but then you take an extra one and turn back to go into the hallway

you don’t know what compels you to knock on the door

you don’t know this person, you just know that he’s kind of an actor now - but that’s not why you want to talk to him

you’ve seen things like this before, people - alone in public places. hurting so obviously yet - no one there to even bat an eyelash

you’ve done this before, not in a karaoke place, but you’ve had to force back tears on the train or at the store 

when hasn’t someone had to do that?

so when hongseok opens the door, his dark eyes looking dull and something like pure sadness in his scrunched up stature

you think,,,,,if anything,,,,,this is the right thing to do

“hey, i don’t mean to be rude but are you ok? i just saw you and you looked really sad -”

hongseok brushes his sleeve across his face

“yeah, im - you know me because of the drama right? is that what you want to know about?”

you shake your head slowly

“i mean i know you are in a drama, but im not here for that. i got you some water, you just looked like you might,,,,,,,might not want to be alone?”

he takes the bottle you’re offering and a tiny smile pulls at his lips

“thanks, i guess i can trust strangers if they look the same age as me. do you go to the same uni?”

you nod, watching him sit on the couch and turn the karaoke box off

for a moment you stand there, quiet and awkward

why did you do this again?

“so,,,,,,how did you know i didnt want to be alone? im an actor, i thought i was putting on a good show.”

you bite back your bottom lip, unsure of what to say

“i mean, people don’t go to karaoke alone. unless they’re piss drunk.”

hongseok waves a finger to motion he agrees with you

“caught me there,,,,,,,,,”

he then goes quiet, playing with the cap on the bottle

“do you want to talk about it?”

you think the look on hongseok’s face reads that oh, no one has ever asked me that before - just for a split second

he shifts a bit, and you assume it’s to make space for you on the couch

you sit down and hongseok lets out a sigh

“debuting as an actor has always been my dream. i should be happy, over the moon. but my,,,,,,but my parents - they still,,,,,they’re still not sold on it you know?”

he winces, as if he’s thinking of something painful

“they don’t think i can make it a career that’ll last,,,,,and this drama isn’t anything special, so it’s not like they’re wrong when they say im going to be a D-list forever,,,,,,ill only get jobs like this - but i ,,,,, i just,,,,,they’re my parents - it hurts.”

you’re taken aback, since that wasn’t at all what you were expecting 

here you were thinking he’d broken up with someone or he’d failed prerequisite calculus

but this,,,,,,this was emotional - and you’d just really met fifteen minutes ago

“but i mean, this is what you want right? all actors have to start somewhere, this is just,,,,,” you try to find the word and hongseok’s gaze lifts to meet yours

“this is just your beginning. with passion, you’ll only climb up.”

hongseok hangs his head and you feel your stomach tighten, did you say something wrong?

but then you realize he’s chuckling to himself

“see, i tell myself that all the time - but hearing it from someone else,,,,,,it makes it ten times more valid. thanks,,,,stranger.”

you mumble out your name,and hongseok catches it - repeating it with a bit of a smile

you smile back,,,,,and you and hongseok - you click,,,,,,,that moment it’s like it bonds you together

because he picks up the karaoke remote and points it to the box “wanna do a duet?”

and for the next hour you find yourself jamming out to early 2000s hits - hongseok’s voice almost cracking as he screams out the lyrics to avril’s sk8r boi

the sight almost makes you lose your own voice laughing

and you realize,,,,,,,that when hongseok is paying for the room - that you abandoned that party you were at

but you check your phone,,,,there’s a bunch of text about how they’ve all ubered home and it’s fine

hongseok nudges you and goes “you up for some 4 am snacks?”

after that,,,,hongseok slowly becomes a friend

you two live very different lives - hongseok is either filming, swimming, or doing something for his acting major and you’re indulged in your own thing

but sometimes, every now and then you two find the time to head to karaoke again - or to the arcade

hongseok once asks if you want to hang with him at the gym,,,,,you realize that he literally meant hang when you find him upside down on one of the bars

hongseok,,,,,is regular!hongseok around you - he’s freaking funny and unique

you can guarantee for it to be positive, even though your initial meeting had been so,,,,,,,,,,so sad

you never see hongseok on set, or in his classes, so you don’t meet actor!hongseok

though you do point out you can’t believe he’s the type to be a stickler for neatness and daily healthy foods

hongseok voice: yogurt is good for you!

you, eating a cookie: yeah

but,,,,,,,as time passes you finally do get to meet actor!hongseok and god- you really wish you hadn’t

it happens when hongseok texts you, asking where you are

you had headed to the city after you classes to shop around for a new phone case and hongseok is like ‘coo! im about to wrap up stuff for the last episode so im in the city too, wanna go back to uni together?’

it’s causal, normal - something between friends

but when you get to where he tells you to go, you notice the set - the cameras - the people running around

and in the middle, on the crub ofthe street is hongseok

he’s wearing another nerdy getup, it makes you giggle in your palm but then ,,,,,, he’s reaching out - holding onto the hand of who you assume is the main girl

“you’re always on my mind, you’re the most beautiful person ive ever met and i want to give you the earth - the moon - the sun, anything! how could you choose him over me?”

hongseok’s voice trembles, but his delivery is clear - raw with emotion

it catches you off guard for a moment as you stand there, mesmerized

the girl shakes him off, says some generic line and then hongseok is left alone on the set

he takes the glasses off, eyes falling to the floor as they swell up with tears

under the lighting of the cameras,,,they look almost amhitest 

“why,,,,,why am i always left to be broken?”

he clenches his jaw and something inside you starts to stirr

this is supposed to be another corny, predictable daytime drama - but hongseok’s acting is levels beyond that

you don’t know anything about the plot, the story, his character and yet-  just his lines make you want to fall to your knees and cry too

the director yells cut, over for the day and hongseok notices you

within the span of a second his hurt, miserable acting face drops into his glowing smile

he jogs over and leans out to ruffle your hair as you duck away from his hand

“did you see my scene?!”

“y-yeah it was good!!”

he grins, shrugging and then tells you he has to return the costume and he’ll meet you in a couple of minutes

as he leaves you tell your heart to stop hammering against your chest - what you’re feeling is emotions from his scene

not,,,,,,,,a reaction to hongseok

handsome, talented hongseok

the hongseok who’d spilled his heart out to you, who’d showed you he could be vulnerable - who’d made your days brighter since you got to know him

no,,,,he was just a friend and you - 

hearing him call your name, you turned and like a stop frame in a movie hongseok looked absolutely perfect

waving his hand to you, casual black jeans and beige sweater

and you,,,,,,,,,,,,oh god you had a crush

of course, there was no telling hongseok this. so many people had crushes on him you’d be number 205, you were sure

and hongseok had chosen you as a friend - just that. you weren’t going to ruin that

but were you going to wallow in your pity? yes,,,,,completely

so,,,,,a couple of days after you did what hongseok had done when he was sad

you went to karaoke. alone.

at first it was weird, but after putting on some random song, you watched the video and just thought about it - about hongseok - about liking hongseok

when did it start? when you first saw him you thought he was cute, but you weren’t like in love or whatever

maybe it was that time at the gym, when he was hanging upside down like spiderman - you’d thought briefly of kissing him then

or was it when you guys were walking to the pool and hongseok jokingly asked you to feel him flex his muscles and you were shocked at how strong he really was

you didn’t know,,,,,,,,and when you wanted to reach over - switch the song you heard a knock

confused, you opened it assuming it was a worker but then - it was hongseok

with flowers

“thought i would find you here.”

“w-what is this?”

he walked by you, throwing himself on the couch and holding the flowers out to you

“sad people always go to karaoke alone to be sad - so here i am, to cheer you up like you cheered me up.”

you reach to take the flowers, but hesitate 

he’s just here to ‘cheer his friend up’ isn’t he

but then hongseok takes a hold of your outstretched wrist, he pulls you forward right into his lap

the flowers falling to the floor beside the couch

you swallow “hongseo-”

“i don’t think im going to need a lot of words for this, so just let me-”

he hovers his mouth over yours, his breath smells a bit like mint and when he kisses you it’s deliberately slow 

he’s waiting on you to react

and when you do, hands traveling up to grip at the front of his jacket and kiss him back like you really mean it

you swear you feel him smile 

pulling back you both stare at each other, red faced and suddenly shy about it all

you slip from hongseok’s lap and he picks up the flowers, clearing his throat

but it’s only awkward for another moment till you’re kissing each other again

safe to say, the worker scolds you two when he accidentally walks in on whats happening

hongseok,,,,,doesn’t just tell his friends he’s dating you - he makes it his own damn monologue

“after meeting, like star-crossed souls searching on a long path for one and other i am now dating the most beautiful, angelic, sweet-”

wooseok: just tell us their name please god

and tbh when hongseok says it’s you they’re all surprised,,,,but then hui snaps his fingers and goes

“you’re the one who hongseok cried to about his life in the kara-’

hongseok covers his mouth and just grins but you’re like yes,,,im thAT person LOL

there’s no actor or regular hongseok when it’s you and him it’s just cute, sweet boyfriend hongseok

who loves having your attention, who plays with your hair absentmindedly 

who notices tiny changes and compliments them

who switches out your sweets for fruits when you’re not looking LOL

who quotes his favorite lines from romance movies to you when he’s run out of corny pick up lines of his own

and because he wakes up so early to work out you always get good morning texts

sometimes accompanied by a cute selfie of him before his run - or a ,,,,,hotter selfie of him after his run

unapologetically tells everyone about how great you are, but also tells e’dawn that if he tries to flirt - hongseok still has that blackmail from three years ago and he will not hesitate to email e’dawns mother gufsijg

“but you’re the mom of the group hongseok”

“oh no e’dawn, i mean your real mother. don’t test me. she likes me and you know it.”

calls you petnames that he makes up on the spot - sometimes they can get a lil long and weird

people tell him that as an aspiring actor, maybe he should stay single to help his career but hongseok is like no im an affection monster - i need someone to focus all my love on and it’s them

(the them is you - hongseok is pointing at you)

tries to get you to do scenes with him, but when he’s serious it makes you laugh

because you’re used to him doing funny faces, sticking his tongue out at you, dancing all weird across the room

you just burst into giggles and he’s like yOU gOTTA kiss me ten times now for breaking my concENTration 

speaks a whole sentence in one language then switches to another and you’re like why and he’s like doesn’t it make me look cool and you 

pinch his cheeks and he’s like oW wHY

and you’re like you look cooler not saying anything at all jokes jokes

i feel like your relationship with him has to thrive on these back and forth jokes

but also,,,,,,,under it all you’re two people who have seen each other at super low points and you know were your insecurities lie 

but despite that you keep each other positive and happy

and hongseok is doing better with his parent’s support, but whenever he needs to know he’s appreciated

you’re there by his side

you go to one of his swim meets with a little banner and hongseok nearly melts - the coach has to catch him from stumbling over LOL

tires to clean up your dorm  for you when he’s over and you have to swat at his hands like no no just come over and cuddle no that clock isn’t crooked hongSEOK

you guys totally marathon movies together in bed,,,,,but the next day hongseok is like in the gym for five hours to makeup for the ice-cream you ate

“no way you can do a handstand with one ha- oh mY GOD my bOYFriEND is IRON mAN??!?!?”

hongseok: ; ) 

seeing how hongseok is with his friends, how silly but also how caring he is just makes you so proud of him

and when he tells you there’s this freshman following him around always asking him for acting pointers you’re like AWWW how cute

and hongseok is like is it???

and you’re like you’re gonna be a great dad someday and hongseok is like gkehsfgdskg oh m ,,,, y god

nothing funnier than witnessing hongseok singing into a toothbrush with his bed hair sticking up

did i mention, hongseok has this habit of sneezing SO loud and one time he sneezed and it made you drop your food and he teased you about it for ages after

kissing hongseok is like,,,,,an experience - he could either make it slow and passionate and full of his tenderness 

or he can go full 100 and have you so close to him you feel like you’re molding together, hand clutching at your body with eagerness

it’s a toss up, but you don’t mind either way

and i bet hongseok is a talker,,,,,like he whispers things against your ear,,,,ok aNYWAY

jinho is always like “hongseok~ you love me too right’ and hongseok is like of course and you’re like oh my,,,,and hongseok is like 

i love you jinho but do know i would sell you out ina minute for my s/o

jinho: wow

hui: DISSED , DRAGGED THROUGH THE MUD

hongseok lifting his shirt to try and distract you from studying LOL

but also you get to see hongseok act in other projects and it’s so mesmerizing to see him on and off screen

and the amount of people who are like you’re so lucky to be with him he’s going to be famous

and you’re like i know im lucky,,,,,,,,i love him a lot

but it’s not the fame or whatever - it’s the fact that hongseok and you are ,,,, it’s like fate brought you together

even if you’re too shy to admit it 

(hongseok isn’t he’s like babe,,,,,,,,not to be dramatic but we’re soulmates. ive seen a bunch of soulmate dramas and we are actual soulmates) 

[runnerfangirl]

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 1849

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandom: Shadowhunters (TV)

Relationship: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood

Characters: Magnus Bane, Alec Lightwood

Additional Tags: Post-Episode: s02e20 Beside Still Water, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Fights, Insecurity, Sad Alec, Trust Issues, Self-Doubt, Making Up, Happy Ending

Summary: After they kissed in the dimly lit alley and left the party, Alec knew that they both were working to put their relationship back into its track. He thought they were going to be fine from now on. He thought Magnus trusted him. But in the midst of their first fight after they made up, Alec realized that he had thought wrong.

Trust

Alec wasn’t sure how things got out of hand so quickly. One second, they were sitting on the couch, cuddling happily; the other, they were shouting at each other.

“Haven’t I already told you that I’m sorry for the hundredth time? What do you want me to do? You know I have never wanted to hurt you!” Alec’s voice echoed through the otherwise silent loft. Magnus’ voice wasn’t low either, but unlike Alec, he had a surprisingly calm expression on his face.

“I know. Alec, I know that. But you still hurt me, and you can’t expect me to easily start trusting you again.”

Magnus’ words affected Alec as if he had been slapped. “You don’t trust me?” Rage was flaring inside him as the seconds passed. “Then why the hell are you here? Why are you still kissing me like you have forgiven me? What are we doing together if you can’t trust me in our relationship?!”

“I have forgiven you! But you lied, lied to me! About something that could kill me, that could kill every single Downworlder!”

“You think I don’t know that?!” Alec resisted to the urge to grab his hair in his fists and pull at the black locks. “The Soul Sword couldn’t kill you, it was deactivated! I thought we were fine,” he admitted quietly. “I thought you trusted me.”

There was a moment before Magnus spoke again, and in the meantime, Alec noticed how much his throat hurt because of shouting. “How do you expect me to trust you again in no time after you betrayed me like that?”

For a single second, Alec had thought that he had let all of his anger out; but when he heard Magnus, his head snapped up and he noticed that he was still angry deep down in his consciousness. His anger was begging to be out and the next words came out of Alec’s mouth without thinking.

“Like the way I learned to trust you!” Alec shouted. Magnus looked confused, but the Shadowhunter didn’t give him time to voice his question. “And you were just a warlock whom I had mixed feelings for back then. By the Angel, I was engaged to Lydia! When I was waiting for people to support me as I tried to restore our family name, you went behind my back with my siblings. You stole my stele; you helped them steal the Cup. Isn’t this a betrayal too, huh? Izzy was almost stripped of her runes because of what you three had done!

“But you made a mistake, and everything fell back into its place. I learned to trust you again. Do you think I would kiss you in front of everyone if I didn’t?”

Shock and hurt crossed across Magnus’ face, but Alec was still too angry to notice. “How did you-” was the only thing the warlock could let out.

“How did I learn it?” It seemed like the question made Alec even more irritated. “Did you think I was stupid enough to risk my stele being taken by a random Shadowhunter? Deep inside here,” he pointed the area under his chest, “I knew that my parabatai was betraying me, but what do you think I’ve felt when I saw my stele magically appear next to Jace? What do you think I’ve felt when I noticed that the last person I expected was betraying me? But relationships take effort, don’t they? Didn’t we agree on that? Without a single ounce of doubt in my head, I trust you with my life. And here you are telling me that you can’t trust me, but acting as if nothing had happened!”

Just like that, Alec felt his anger abandon him instantly, leaving a hollow emptiness in his chest. Silence settled inside the loft, making it easier to hear Alec’s raging breaths.

Magnus was silent too. It looked like he wasn’t furious anymore. Instead, Alec saw shock, hurt and bewilderment on his face. And the Shadowhunter felt regret slowly blossom, making it even harder for him to breathe.

“Alexander…” Magnus whispered but he seemed at loss for words.

“Sorry.” Alec’s voice cracked as he talked. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, his body screaming that he was too tired to keep himself upright. “Mags, I’m sorry. I didn’t…” He reached out like he wanted to touch Magnus, but pulled it back quickly as if the act was forbidden. His fingers curled into fists by the either side of his body. “I just… I didn’t mean it, Magnus. It’s-It’s in the past and I… I’ve already forgiven you.”

If Alec was looking at Magnus instead of averting his gaze, he would have seen the pained look on the warlock’s face as though he was physically hurting. But Magnus wasn’t hurting because of Alec. He was hurting because Alec was hurt. Because he had been the one to cause Alec pain.

“I’ll just… give you some time to think, yeah?” Alec shook his head to himself, wondering if he could shake off the thoughts in his mind with the motion. He answered his own question before Magnus had time to do so. “Yeah, I’ll do that,” whispered Alec and turned his back to the warlock. He shut the door behind him, leaving Magnus in silence filled with remorse.

 ~

“Alexander…”

Alec was completely unaware of the voice. He was too focused on the pull of his bow string to notice the warlock behind him. He let the string go loose and drew another arrow from his quiver without wasting a second. The skin of his knuckles and the insides of his fingers were bruised and covered in cuts that were burning, but Alec found comfort in his wounds. He remembered what Magnus had told him when he had done the exact same thing previously, when he shot his arrows into the darkness of night for hours without stopping. And he felt exactly like the way he had put it into words: He was hoping that the pain in his hands would overpower the pain in his chest.

“Alexander.”

He felt blood trickle from his fingers down to the crook of his elbow before it dripped to the ground. The second his arrow exploded in the air, he was shooting another one.

Alec didn’t know for how long he had been on the roof of the Institute. He could somewhat see the reds and oranges over the horizon as the dawn neared, but it wasn’t like he cared about the time. He was at the roof in hopes of forgetting, which wasn’t really working because his thoughts were still focused on a certain warlock.

Why did he even get so angry to Magnus? Why couldn’t he just shut up and let their peaceful evening continue? Of course, Magnus didn’t trust him yet, why would he? He had told Alec that the one thing he could count on from Alec was his honesty. And Alec lied.

He shouldn’t have made such a deal out of it that night. Magnus might have learned to trust him again, if Alec had given enough time to the warlock. But no, he had just crumbled every chance he might have got.

It was Alec’s fault that they had broken up in the first place. And now, if he had caused Magnus to consider their relationship again, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to bear the weight of it.

The blood made his grip on the bow slippery, but his stubborn stance didn’t falter.

“Alexander!”

In the end, it wasn’t Magnus’ raised voice that snapped Alec out of his thoughts; it was the lack of arrows in his quiver when he reached for them and the sudden loss of weight on his back. Alec turned around slowly, his hand grasping the hilt of his seraph blade strapped to his thigh.

His grip on the blade loosened when he saw Magnus.

“Oh,” he let out in a barely audible voice. “It’s you.”

Magnus didn’t seem to be aware of Alec’s dumbfounded face. His gaze was locked on his bloody fingers. “Alexander, you are hurting yourself.” It came out as more of a statement than a question.

Alec only shrugged as an answer, fingers toying with the strap of his quiver. Magnus looked like Alec’s lack of answer only saddened him more. He took a tentative step forward. “Can I heal your hands?” he asked quietly.

The Shadowhunter looked at him for a moment before he rubbed at his hands one more time, and clasped them behind his back. But his voice wavered and it betrayed his soldier stance.

“What are you doing here, Magnus?”

Magnus took another step forward and stopped in front of Alec, staying within his reach. “I came to apologize.”

Alec brows furrowed in confusion. “Why?” he asked with an unhidden curiosity.

“Because I hurt you.” Magnus answered simply, making a gesture with his hands to indicate Alec’s bruised fingers. He swiftly continued when Alec was about to protest. “You were right, I haven’t been equal to you. It was selfish of me. You have made a mistake, just as I have made mine; but I shouldn’t have acted like I did. I’m hundreds of years old, Alexander, I should have known better than I did.

“And I’m so, so sorry for agreeing with Jace and Isabelle to get your stele. None of us should have done that to you. It was my mistake, but the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my life was letting you go, Alexander. And I’ll never forgive myself if it happens again.”

“Mags…” Alec’s shoulders obviously relaxed after he heard the words that he didn’t even know he needed to hear. “I’m sorry too. I should have never brought it up-”

“No. Alexander,” Magnus took one more step and reached out for Alec’s blood-covered hands that were now hanging down limply by his sides. “You don’t have anything to apologize for, my darling. I’m glad you mentioned it, actually. Admittedly, it wasn’t the best possible scenario; but now, I feel like a weight that I wasn’t aware of has lifted from my chest.”

Alec nodded at him, not knowing what to say. His gaze was locked on Magnus’ though, and he was faintly aware of the warlock’s gentle caresses against his bruised knuckles.

“Can I heal your hands now, Alexander?”

Alec murmured out a low “Yes,” but the next words he blurted came out of his mouth without thinking: “I trust you.”

He took a sharp breath; he wasn’t sure if he had crossed a line or not. But when he looked at Magnus, the warlock was smiling softly at him. His features were illuminated with a soft glow. His blue wisps of magic were working to heal his hands, colorful sparks dancing in the small space of air between them. Magnus took a second away from his healing and pressed a gentle kiss against Alec’s knuckles, filling the Shadowhunter’s heart with warmth when he said the next words.

“I trust you too, Alexander, with my heart.”

[rkcheri]

#lights, camera, action ! ° [ + ] lee, jihyun —————— ✦ ˟   › ! royal survival &. episode seven: filming day ( feat. noh jihoon ) ┄ ·˚₊ 

it’s an endless game of waiting ; time moving like a pendulum. swinging to and fro, every second noted with conscious effort as she watches the others go before her. waiting for her turn was a game she was beginning to hate the longer it took; every time the director snapped his action! and cut! had her on high alert, line of vision vying for the source of sound only to chasten when she realizes her turn has yet to come. it all brings forth the mantra she’s been chanting for the last half hour -- one she recalls from the hour she had spent practicing with noh jihoon: don’t worry, and you won’t mess up. 

         pretty much,         a nicer way of saying: try to not to fuck it up too badly. 

if jihyun had been given the choice prior, she would have thrown caution to the wind and gone first -- wanting to get over it. whether or not, fools would be made from her performance; anything was better than this torture that was the waiting game. to make matters worst, her turn wouldn’t even come as quickly as she hoped. she was dead last, there was no running from being the one people would leave the day with the most recent impression cast. 

she dreaded to think that she’d somehow fuck up and that would be the end of it. among the girls, she sees herself divided -- her experience from dream high, though one to be noted on her resume, was little to account for. small scenes and very few lines to back up that experience did nothing when she knew the other girls were destined to shine in front of the camera in ways that jihyun would assume to pale in. her colors were in her voice, not her acting.

but she hopes to at least not be mediocre. and in the event, she somehow does well ( well being a objective term, well somehow equating that she wasn’t the worst of the day ), then maybe she’ll see that it isn’t so different than a performance on the stage. after all, didn’t she want to portray a story with her voice -- acting would should be the same way, right?

she runs over the lines once more -- a script that’s referenced more than once in the last hour as her time comes near. the nerves functioning upright; an appearance out of thin air that takes a hold of her legs, ankles shaking as she shifts in her seat. all this time and now her tail had to cower between her legs?

“lee jihyun!” it’s automatic, the way her smile rises and the shaking ceases. she keeps her head held high at the right moments, bowing as she enters the circle of cameras and crew that decorate the main set. it’s that rush of adrenaline that has her eyes uneasy; least meeting her eyes as they go from noh jihoon to so jisub at the far corner. jihyun doesn’t know who she wants to impress more. her esteemed sunbae who had worked so hard all day helping all the girls, including herself, get their scenes just right ( and disrespect the time and hard work that they had put into their practice ) or her critical ceo who had all her hopes and dreams dangling on a string -- ready to be tied or cut with a single gesture. 

a small minute to herself clears her mind, a gulp made as she spares a glance back to jihoon -- leveling her gaze with him enough to note the smile he throws her way. and in that instance, she breathes a little more calmly. as if his smile had been the answer she had been searching for all this time. she lets air passively relieve itself from the constriction her muscles had on her lungs and relaxes. 

“okay -- it’s been a long day, but this is our last girl for the day! take your places, actors!” 

and just like that the pressure builds and jihyun has to force herself to restrain the nerves climbing along her spine. she moves; feet a mobile rush that get her to the couch, seated with her palms placed in her lap; tapping at her knees -- a nervous tick that helps little to sate the troublesome trembles. “alright! quiet on the set -- ready?” no. jihyun breathes in through her nose.

          “action!” 

and exhales heavily from her lips. 

so it begins, the silence of the room welcomes jihyun. there’s so little one can say but so much more that can be done as shown as the camera pans into her movement, capturing each facet that is sewn in her notions. from the way fingers tremble ( some from the nerves, some from methodical acting ), to how the very same fingers run through her hair. an obvious frustration run along every curve until the frown on her face is disturbed by the brown tendrils that fall into her eyes as she gets up from the couch and makes her way to the dresser; pulling the doors open.

handfuls of clothing, dressed upon hangers are pulled into her arms. the articles placed in the luggage; slowly, painfully so -- as if begging to be stopped. once all the clothes have filled the luggage, she takes her seat back on the couch. a pause as she reaches for the lid of the case; bringing it to a close but refraining from actually locking it. fingers touch the locks; a passing moment before the distinct sound click! is heard in the quiet studio.

          “cut! onto the next scene,” 

far more in her element -- a lighter change of atmosphere. where smiling isn’t so hard to come by. where laughter is actually genuine when thrown by jokes and glancing that teeter on intimate. it’s a tale jihyun weaves with a certain australian boy but he’s no where to be found. somehow, she makes do -- in jihoon’s eyes she sees rome and that’s all that matters to her. to her, this was the only way to make it a ounce believable ; at least there was real love in those dark brown hues of hers. 

that couldn’t be easily faked. but in each embrace, every brush of her fingertips against his jaw, each look; jihyun feels a tiny pang in her heart. it’s small but carries the biggest weight. pulls it along with her in every turn and tightening of her arms around his waist. it deepens her laughter and furthers the resolve; she may have his trophy, it would only suit jihyun to return the favor.

to make it all the way to the end; making the absence of his presence worth it. 

that has her smiling more -- brighter as she looks on at jihoon, smile turning bashful when his own hands capture her face to pull back dark curls from her eyes. 

          “and cut! last scene, everyone -- let’s try to make it in one take!”

among the scenes practiced, jihyun favors the way the tears begin to roll down her cheeks. during practice, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to cry. the light atmosphere being the cause; and more often than not, whenever she had tried to cry, all that would end up coming out was the vein in her forehead from the strain she was putting on the attempt. 

but of course, once the cameras had begun rolling -- it was as if the mighty dam that held her tears from her water ducts had been broken. due south they came; running the course of her cheeks -- coloring them pale and pink as she cried. where her fingertips had once graciously touched his jaw, they tried to get him to look at her -- her own tries to get him to stay were useless. in each instance, his own hands pulled hers off -- away, discarded. 

in it, she tries to keep the task at hand at the front of her mind -- delving into her past would be the worst of it. perhaps, the biggest of her problems if they were to surface. she resists to use it as her driving force -- instead pushes them, her, him, everyone one of them the furthest from her mind. each one of her loves, a token of her heart broken off for every one that decided to run away with it. it finally breaks her -- takes her mind away from the scene only for a moment, right when the tears begin to fall consistently, gathering at her chin.

her voice were beginning to phase in and out in trembles as she took his hand only to be pushed away; another attempt and an even harder push. again, where arms wind around his waist; face hidden into the plane of his back. 

“please don’t go.”

they tighten, loosen -- break as he pulls them apart and forces her off of him. he’s pauses in his movements, hands letting go of her own; a second away from stalking off but not before looking her dead in the eye and speaking the very last lines in the script.

          “enough, we’re done.” 

he departs and it’s emotional, it hurts and jihyun can feel the way the emotions are catching up to her. fingers pull back tendrils, frustratingly wiping at the tears left on her cheeks as she collapses to the floor; head downcast as her tears continue to fall. 

          “and that’s a wrap, everyone! that’s it for today!” 

the director calls it. the sound of the board slamming shut marks the end of the day; she can hear the tired sighs simultaneously echoing each other as she rises to stand. taking it in small strides as she bows to each of the staff and crew, especially thanking the one who graces her with a towel to wipe the last of the tears that had stuck upon her reddened cheeks. 

but she refrains from pushing the tough terry along her skin, instead she makes a point to catch jihoon before he truly leaves. the towel handed his way, “i was going to use it -- but i thought you might need it more than me considering i already used your shirt as my tissue.” she says before bowing, thanking him for not giving up on her despite the numerous attempts at each scene. 

“i really couldn’t have done it without you, sunbae.”

[wang-yeon]

Nervous Touch| Jimin

Jimin is known for his charm on stage but when the lights cut out he cant help but become flustered. Its something you've learned to deal with but often grow tired of. Maybe Jimin will show you what actually riddles beneath the flustered boy he once was.

Warning: Cussing, smut, flustered Jiminie!, then out of no where hot sexy Jiminie!

Genre: Smut and a lovely amount of fluff

Word count: 7.4K

A/N: Im sorry i meant to upload this yesterday but i didnt have my laptop to post it and i tried to post it on my phone but it fucked up. Here it is now tho, please enjoy the trash that i write

Life was enough of a struggle at the tender age of finally being able to find yourself. Being surrounded by hard studies and your parents attempting to guide you only driving your insanity. All though my plate was already full of these things it only grew larger as i was brought into the lime light. Instead of the guidance and judgment i gained from my parents they came from other peers. everybody judge your every movement, every talk and every blink. I however didn't ask for it but my boyfriend Jimin did so willingly. Jimin had been one of the very handsome members of BTS. He was known for his witty charm and irresistible ways but however when the light was taken away from him he was quite the opposite. He became soft and warm hearted when around me always making sure i was cared for.

Jimin held two personas, one where he is on stage as the cheers and roars from the crowd fuel his energy and sexy behavior. The audience always encouraged this persona making him crave it even more. His other persona was the one I was familiar with, the one where he was so afraid of touching me, as if i was a porcelain doll and i might break at any moment.

Everyone close to Jimin was familiar with this side of Jimin as it was played only when he was around people he was comfortable with and could actually become himself instead of who he is known for. I had been with Jimin since he auditioned but we were only friends and never expanded on it. Until recent Jimin aimed to become something more valued even with the dating ban. Sure this was definitely enough to draw conflict between our relationship but it never got in the way of anything serious. Jimin and I had eventually grew stronger but ultimately stayed the same in most ways. Of course the occasional peck caused some members to groan at the new change but they still accepted it, as it wasn't to out of hand. It still had been an adjustment as things began to settle in.

I began coming to the dorm more recent to see Jimin and the other members. During the day i would usually end up playing video games with Jungkook and Tae while Yoongi heckled there bad efforts. Occasionally helping Jin cook while Hobi was dancing happily to the music that played as we cooked. Jin always stayed focused on the cooking as i sometimes joined Hobi making Jin hit me lightly on the head with a wooden spoon. As all of this passed Namjoon would usually pull me aside and try to indulge in deep conversation. They all ranged in different ways, some begin about conspiracy theories while others were about relationship advice. I had loved and gotten along with everyone in BTS but there was one that stood out from the others. While the night commenced I stayed hid away in Jimin's room where we would mindlessly kiss and show affection to each other. Jimin was always shy with public affection saying that he didn't need other people to see how much he truly cared about me.

One day that was put to the test as we were kissing on his bed with me being on top as he held onto my waist and began kissing me softly. We had been so focused on each other that we didn't even notice the knock on the door and the later opening of the door till we were greeted by Yoongi.

"Hey Jimin have you seen Y/-"

Jimin quickly pushed me off of him resulting in me landing on the floor with a groan. I looked up at Yoongi who held a blank stare not really caring about the situation.

"Never mind I've found her. Hey Y/N when your done um laying on the floor can you help me with something? Thank you."

With that Yoongi left the room closing the door softly. As soon as he closed the door Jimin sunk to the floor repeatedly asking if i was okay making me roll my eyes and nod. Since then i always thought that Jimin was always ashamed of being with me but i just realized this is just the person he is and i have to respect that. As time went on Jimin and Yoongi were back on good terms, Jimin had corrupted that Yoongi was creeped out by what he saw but Yoongi truly didn't care. As Jimin awkwardly tried to make up an excuse for what he saw Yoongi just blinked bored at his behavior before getting up and saying 'dont be ashamed everyone has sex jimine'.

Jimin blushed at his words turning to me and hiding his face in my shirt. Everything was a big extraordinary mess everyday but we had each other and thats all we need.

Namjoon soon took Jimin's path seeing that actually being in a relationship had its good causes. Namjoon was very worry some when it came to relationships always iffy about the situation. It was sure enough a surprise when he walked in with a random girl we never seen before and he introduced her as his girlfriend. None of the less we all got to know her and began to like her personality. Of course there make out sessions grew awkward for all of us and annoying but she was fine. It was a major adjustment for the boys as me and Jimin rarely kissed in front of them and know they were dealing with this. Soon enough it became a normal thing for all of us. Jin had thought other wise as he threw a wooden spoon at her but we all liked her.

Everything was going perfectly but as tour began to pick up again things went crashing down. Most nights i would call Jimin while he was practicing at the dead of night but he never hesitated to answer my call. He called me often as well checking up on me and letting me know that i was still wanted. This had taken a toll on Namjoon's girlfriend, Jasmine as well. She would often knock at my door at times that i was either already sleeping or on the phone with Jimin ending in a short phone call.

She went on about how she missed Namjoon and his touch. This surely led to a weird conversation on a incite on there sex life, one that i didn't need to know about. There was also an ounce of bitterness that set in my heart as she went on about how Namjoon was always rough and never gentle with her, Jimin was rather opposite. We always indulged in plain vanilla sex, exchanged many kisses but never as many touches. I pushed my thoughts aside and focused on a blathering Jasmine.

It was easy to see that we were both in need of our significant other back in our present lives. The late night phone calls weren't enough anymore, I needed more and I would give anything. With a bit of help I managed to get the airport information when they would arrive to the states. BTS was supposed to have a few stops in the states giving us the perfect opportunity to see one another.

The car ride to the airport with Jasmine had been hectic. It was unbelievable the mouth she had on her, i guess that way Namjoon picked her. She couldn't stop talking, i felt as if every time she talked my head would explode form all the words falling from her lips. Maybe this was the reason her and Namjoon never held up a conversation. She keep mindlessly turning the radio dial saying that my music taste was horrible making me roll my eyes at her comment. I was seriously going to roll her out of this damn car but i knew Namjoon wouldn't allow that for some reason. I tried keeping my eyes on the scenery and the road trying not to let my anger get the best of me as she kept saying her useless comments.

Right as if i felt like i was going to snap we finally arrived at the airport. Jasmine raced out the car door making her way to Namjoon i presumed. I unlocked my door taking off my seat belt feeling my veins pulsate in sheer excitement. I made my way out of the car eyeing The boys and an evident Jasmine clinging onto Namjoon as they showed there affection for each other. Luckily there wasn't any fans that i could point out. As i grew closer to them i spotted Jimin talking to Namjoon and Jasmine. He displayed a sad expression as he talked on with them most likely asking where my presence was before i let myself be known.

"Jiminie!"

Jimin swirled around eyeing me making his frown turn into a proclaimed smile. His eyes crinkled as he shouted my name running in my direction to excited to keep his emotions and affection under control. Jimin reached my destination as he pick me up into s warm bear hug and proceeding to kiss my whole face all except my lips. Jimin was affectionate to a certain amount. When we hadn't seen each other in a while this was when he would show the most affection in front of people. Even though all he was doing was hugging me, so i soaked it in as much as i could before it was cut short.

"Easy Jimin, we dont want a repeat from what happened last time."

Jimin let me go completely making me stumble back slightly as i was brought back on the ground. Jimin smoothed down his shirt bowing at Yoongi who dared to let that bold comment leave his lips. Jimin was obviously distraught and flustered from his bluntness trying to keep a reasonable distance between us.

"Your right, I am sorry hyung. It wont happen again i promise you."

I rolled my eyes at his behavior but decided not to indulge in it as we began walking out the airport. It drove me crazy how peoples opinion often made him actual take action even when they didn't mean it . Surely Yoongi was joking but Jimin completely took it as all seriousness as if he was forbidden to lay a finger on me. He acted like it was wrong to show any sot of affection publicly and when i asked him he always brung up the contract while Namjoon and Jasmine mindless sucked each others faces off. It was really starting to irritate me, even as we were walking he could have at least held my head but he kept his distance and looked straight till we reached the van.

The van was split in three sections each baring three seats meaning me and Jimin had to be seated with Taehyung while in the back as Namjoon and Jasmine held there own seats. I understand why no one wanted to sit with them as the clashing of there tongues would grow irritating very quickly but even in the back seat you could hear it ever so slightly.

"I swear at any given change they get they will such each others faces off."

I looked at Tae and chuckled slightly at his comment. It was true i've never seen them actually have a conversation with each other. I guess this was one thing me and Jimin had that out ruled them.

"I know. It frighten me that one day there tongues will be stuck together."

Tae laughed and threw his head back at my comment as his hand unexpectedly landed on my thigh. I jumped at the sudden feeling. I already hadn't been use to the feeling of Jimin hands lingering on me so as Tae's hand stayed on my thigh it felt quite strange.

Jimin seemed to take notice in this as he glared at Tae who was oblivious as he still held a conversation with me. Jimin seemed as if he was going to explode and i didn't need to look at him long enough to take notice. He was fuming but didn't know what to do as he was never in this position.

Jimin starred at the hand that laid on my thigh not doing anything as Tae still talked to me with all his Witt. Jimin just stayed silent and let the whole thing unfold making me anger. I loved having a conversation with Tae because he was genuinely funny but i couldn't focus on anything at the thought of Jimin just sitting back and not taking action in anything that was going on. I get that he doesn't show any affection but Tae was showing far more than he has attempted to surely that could have bothered him. I had no way of knowing if it actually did bother him but it surely bothered me.

We finally arrived at the hotel and were now managing our room keys. The lady placed the keys on the counter with a very fake enthusiastic 'Thank you for staying with us, please enjoy your stay'. Everyone looked among t the keys and noticed that the keys came up wrong. Instead of one key since the plan was originally staying in a big place where they all could room together and we would mostly be out the whole time instead of in the hotel. There were three keys.

"Why is there three keys?"

"Well i was thinking that me and Jimin could stay in a room together and Namjoon and Jasmine can as well, since were in a relationship."

"But nonna, you never slept in the same room as Jimin. You always sleep in the guest room."

Jungkook tilted his head in confusion at the new information that didn't add up to him. Everyone had always assumed that i stayed in the guest room instead of sleeping with Jimin which i did at first till we both became intimate. Unfortunately Yoongi found out later down the road the truth behind it making him smirk at this very moment.

"Oh trust me they stay in the same room and are fairly close and familiar with one another."

Everyone looked at Yoongi not expecting him to say such thing and confused by his abundant outburst that didn't add up. As for me and Jimin it sure did as i hung my head low but didn't mind it much as he was only joking but Jimin took it out of context.

"She does in fact sleep in the guest room. We've never done anything like that, that's just really weird."

Jimin laughed nervously as he said hes statement making everyone look between us. Yoongi looked over at me as if asking what was going on making me lower my head more in shame. Jimin once again didn't want people to know what goes on between us making things harder on my part.

"Its really not weird at all, i mean me and Jasmine share the same bed. Its okay if you both do the same."

"Well we don't! Stop making it a big deal."

Jimin got the key from the counter and marched to the elevator. I managed one small wave before following after Jimin. Im sure everyone who witnessed felt an ounce of sadness for me even Yoongi who started the while conversation. I hated that they pitted me and how Jimin was acting but they someone have to understand that this is just the behavior he has always shown. I just needed to somehow manage it.

We were in the hotel room as Jimin was mindlessly looking through the channels of the TV while laying on the bed. I had been standing up not feeling the need to sit down as thoughts ran through my mind on where this relationship was even heading. With this amount of affection it was sure enough to come down from its high.

"Sit down Y/N, I don't want you working yourself to much."

I stayed still not knowing if i wanted to sit down before i felt Jimin arms around my was it bringing me onto the bed with him. I let out a small giggle not able to control it. Jimin brought me to his chest and he kept his arms wrapped warmly around me while looking at the TV program displayed.

"So hows college going? Working you the bone i suppose, but i know my baby can handle anything."

I swooned at the nickname loving when it fell from his lips wishing it would more often.

"Its good, I made it on the deans list so that's pretty cool."

Jimin jumped slightly making me look him in the eye as if asking what was wrong. Jimin looked at me before pulling me into a bone crushing hug.

"Pretty cool? Are you kidding me baby that's amazing!"

Jimin proceed to attack my face with kisses something he would do when  he couldn't contain his excitement. He still held me tight but it loosened as his lips lingered on mine making me hum softly at the affection. Jimin broke apart the kiss smiling upon me.

"I'm so unbelievably proud of you, baby."

The moment was surely lovely but i still had this one thing lingering in the back of my mind. It was nipping at me as i asked it to go away as i finally have received what i was longing for. The feeling was sure going to end.

"Why do you always act like this alone but when were in public you stay away?"

The moment surely ended as of now. Jimin stiffened up as he straightened himself fully sitting up on the bed. I stayed on the bed laying down with my hands on my face hating that i even said that. Why couldn't i just accept what i was getting as the moment was happening? I truly was a fool but Jimin only enhanced this quality on me.

"I tell you thousands of times. Its because of the contract."

"Bullshit. The stupid contract gets in the way of our relationship yet not Namjoon's and Jasmines?"

Jimin rolled his eyes at my behavior knowing that i was right but didn't chose to accept it. I had been so feed up from his behavior that I didn't really muster what words were meant to fall from my mouth at any moment. The words struck me by a shock and sure enough struck a nerve in Jimin as well Jimin.

"My god you really don't care about our relationship do you? I would be better off fucking Tae and you know it. If you keep acting this way you will lose me."

Jimin's eyes widened at my words taking in what had threatened to leave from my lips. I didn't even think of Tae like that but i had chosen the only thing that would hurt him as i was hurting too. I just wish it didn't escalate to this. Jimin's eyes flashed three emotions first being shock second being anger and third where they just displayed nothing. Jimin stayed silent as he proceeded to go back on his phone before looking me in the eyes with a cold exterior.

"Get dressed, the guys and Jasmine want to take us out. Hopefully wherever we end up going it will be a good place for you to fuck my best friend, because you want to act so senseless."

I looked at Jimin and suddenly i was finally at a lose for words instead of him. I had no right to say what i had said and stating that i was just angry wasn't a good enough excuse. I had let my emotions get the best of me just because Jimin didn't show enough affection. Sure he didn't in public but when we were alone he made me feel as if the moments made up for everything else. Now Jimin walked out the door leaving me in the room to change by myself. I hadn't had high expectations but they certainly were set and i might have drove Jimin away because of my wrongful actions.

I had spent the last few minutes in the bathroom attempting to get ready but spent most of that time beating myself up of the situation. I really hadn't meant to say that it was just that i had been bottling this up for some time now and maybe keeping it inside was something that i needed to just learn how to do. I had finished with my makeup and put on a semi tight fitting dress not taking notice of it. I sighed looking at myself in the mirror before meeting everyone in the parking lot.

I felt as if i made the whole situation even more awkward with my veins as i was the only one who was late to the van. Everyone's attention snapped to me including Jimin's cold glare. His eyes read a lustful gaze as he looked me up and down while biting his lips. This was sure enough to bust my mood making me slightly damp before Jimin continued his hard gaze trying not to get tempted.

"Well looks like our beautiful ladies are all here."

Namjoon nudged Jimin while he was gripping onto Jasmines waist. Namjoon was signalling for Jimin to go by my side only for Jimin to go into the van not minding a blink. Everyone's sympathetic  gaze shifted to me yet again, if only they knew that was my fault and stupidity. I held my head down as i got into the very back of the van only for Taehyung to follow.

"Hey, you okay?"

Taehyung looked at me with sympathy in his eyes. Tae was very sympathetically to any creature he should love and care to anyone. Anyone was lucky to have him but i never thought about him in that way. It was definitely nice to have some comfort once and a while from him but not for a life time.

"Yeah i'm fine."

Taehyung appeared unconvinced, but didn't want to bring it back up thinking that it would bother me more.

"Well, you look very lovely tonight."

I smiled at Tae's compliment. He truly was a sweet person and i wanted to thank him or his efforts. Sadly Jimin's scruff stopped me from doing so. I rolled my eyes at him but also understood where he was coming from but he really was to much of a coward to do anything. He even prosperously switched sets with Jungkook to just be away from us.

"Where are we going anyway?"

"Well we really don't know any good clubs around here, so do you girls have an suggestions?"

I looked at Jin as he asked the question twisting his body to us. I had a few in mind, i did often go to the club sometimes and i was selecting the very few that would be a good destination.

"I know this club down the street, they mainly play latino music its very good."

Hobi jumped happily at my request making me laugh. Hobi had always been energetic meaning him in an actual club bumping music and lurking alcohol was going to only encourage that.

"Aye despacito ."

Hobi began dancing while Jungkook encouraged him while joining him from the back. This event was surely going to be enchanting with those energetic boys and a very irritated Jimin.

I had reserved most of my time at the bar finding that drowning myself in alcohol made me forget about most things. the same most have had been accruing for Yoongi as he sent was reserved for him as well. He however didn't have the same reasoning for drinking as i did. He did it for mindless fun and to get away from all the stress while i did it cause i couldn't handle my own situation. It wasn't anything to extreme just a mindless action ready to take place.

"Alright what the fuck is up with you and Jimin. I understand how weird that dude is but now your acting weird too?"

"Were just having problems i guess, hes not being as affectionate as i would like and im being a complete idiot."

I hadnt really ever told Yoongi any of my business let alone never thought of ever telling him a lick of anything. It was just that Yoongi had already seen enough of whats going all all he needed was answers and i was drunk enough to give it to him.

"Ive noticed how he doesn't show much affection but he does when no ones around. I dont understand whats up with females cant you just take what you get."

"Yoongi i appreciate the advice but you haven't had any sexual relations beside your hand."

Yoongi shrugged it off while downing a shot not minding me. I hadn't meant for it to come out that way but i knew he didn't mind it as he says the remote same to other people. He wasn't bothered by other peoples opinion and thats what i admired about him. I shifted my eyes away from him to be met with Jimin sitting in the lounge area looking at me with the same cold glare that sent shirves down my spine.

The music changed to "Ay Vamos" By J Balvin making my mood shift. I felt the energy take over me as i noticed everyone else was out on the dance floor besides me and Yoongi who looked as if he could care less. None of the less we were in a club and there were more things we could be doing besides drinking.

"Wanna go out on the dance floor?"

"I rather choke on a fork."

I nodded at Yoongi's response before going on the dance floor dancing my worries away. I began dancing and flowing my body with the music forgetting about worries that commenced me earlier. I had been moving my hips and focusing on the music that i didn't even notice the very evident body behind me before i was met with their bulge poking my ass.

"Um, exuse me but i have a-"

I turned around and was cut off as i was met with Jimin in my eyesight. His eyes that once held a dark stare were switched with a more wanting lust filled one making my underwear dampen. I had never seen Jimin like this before especially when we were in front of countless amounts of people but i put that aside for the moment afraid  would mess it up again.

"How could you not now your own boyfriends cock, baby?"

I was shocked by Jimin's words but moaned slightly as he gripped onto my waist and grind against my hip bone. He positioned his leg between mine as i copied his actions. We began grinding together moving our hips to the music enjoying our time together.

Jimin's hand reached to my neck making me look at him in his eyes that told of the actions that he would later do to me. Jimin  motioned my neck to get closer making our lips grow closer together before he locked our lips. The kiss was anything but sweet and sensual, the usual kiss we were use to.It was filled with lust and nirvana making our senses heighten enlightening everything. Jimin's hands traveled to my ass gripping it as he grind me onto his thigh while he did the same making me moan into his mouth.

"I swear, Ill take you right here and show Taehyung that i can fuck you like the slut you are."

Jimin groaned enjoying what was going all but also letting the bad thoughts commence in his head. Jimin had still been convinced that Taehyung could treat me better in different way, he had been far wrong but i wouldn't tell him that. Seeing him like this was definitely a huge turn on and i wanted to be a little selfish.

I turned around not commenting on his statement. I directed my ass on his clothed cock feeling the material of jeans rub against me. Jimin head flew back at the feeling but took action rather quickly. His hands guided to my hips directing me how to move them as he grind into me slowly. Jimin was already a talented dancer i knew this but i never really seen how he was when he had lust running through his veins. When this happened he danced slowly but aggressive leaving anyone soaking which is what he was doing at this very moment.

Jimin moved my hair and focused on my neck and began kissing it as he still grind he hips against me. Jimin whispered small things in my ear enough to make my core asking.

"You see Taehyung, looking at use? To bad he cant fuck you like I can, your all mine. This pretty little ass is all mine."

I looked up to see Taehyung gaze on us. I felt a little sympathy but he knew me and Jimin were together. Taehyung didn't seem bothered by us but rather surprised that we were actually doing something like this which was why he was looking at us like this. I was going to inform Jimin about this information but remained quiet as he began to guide us out the club.

Jimin proceeded to hale a cab all while gripping onto my hand before he shoved me into the back seat. I stayed seated while Jimin shifted uncomfortable as his seat as his hand stayed on my thigh. Jimin looked at me before smirking and looking front ahead again. I looked at him weirdly as he only looked forward. I felt his hand creeping up before they reached my damp underwear.

"I beat Taehyung dreams of making you this wet. hmm I love feeling this pretty little cunt and its all wet for me."

I bit my lip as Jimin slide my panties to the side before running his fingers around my clit. The simple touch was enough to make me to let out a small moan. The cab driver looked in the mirror to see what was going on making me smile weakly as Jimin remained to keep a bored look on his face as if nothing was according.

I looked at Jimin warning him but he didn't mind it one bit as he continued to rub my clit. I bite my lips getting use to the feeling and managed to not make a peep. I jumped at the feeling of his fingers teasing my entrance. I threw my head back making him smirk in victory.

"Come on baby. Use that dirty little mouth of yours and let it out."

I shook my head letting out small almost unheard painting breathes from the feeling. Jimin looked at me as if he was begin challenged before he inserted both of his fingers inside of me making me bite my lips so hard i could make out the metallic of blood.

Jimin began pumping his fingers in and out of me before telling me to play with my clit as he does so. I obligated afraid of what might come if i didn't. I felt my walls clench around his fingers and im sure he could to as he took his fingers away denying my release. Jimin gripped onto my hand as well to make me halt my actions of messaging my clit.

"You really think you deserve to cum after you said you would fuck my best friend?"

I was at a lose for words as he said that and looked straight ahead yet again. I was scared by what was to happen in the next few hours but couldn't help but drip even more at the thought of him taking is aggression out on me.

We had reached the hotel room in the amount of minutes. I had managed to muster that Jimin was actually more angry at me than i suspected. I hadnt said anything to him as i took off my heels and was going to get ready for bed before his voice halted me from my actions.

"You really think your gonna get away from me by going to bed?"

Jimin walked over to me as i stood still at the bed side to dazed to move. Jimin brought his hands to my ass bringing me closer as he kissed me deep as our tongues mixed together in bliss enjoying each other. Jimin broke the kiss to look me up and down licking his lips.

"Get on your knees and suck my cock, baby."

I sunk to the floor without thinking and proceeded to unbutton his pants before i was met with his underwear. I licked my lips in anticipation before pulling his underwear down as his cock sprung up.

I licked the tip of his cock making him jerk slightly before he gripped onto my hair. Jimin never liked when i teased him and the sign of him grabbing onto my hair was a signal of that, but i couldn't help myself. Jimin still gripped onto my hair bringing me in closer proximity with him. I began circling my tongue along the base of his cock before taking him completely in my mouth.

Jimin wasnt to big but he was big enough for me to not be able to fit him all the way in my mouth. He certainly did use it to his advantage but didn't do anything i wasn't comfortable with. Thats another reason of why i loved him so much, he never pressured me into doing unwanted things. As of now i wanted ever inch of him.

I proceeded to suck him off while my hand cupped his balls. Jimin rolled his head back loving the feeling of efforts on him. He gripped onto my hair tighter not use to the feeling running through him. Sure we did do oral but Jimin always hated that and wanted to get right to it but as of now Jimin put those ideas to a halt and focused my mouth wrapped around his cock.

Jimin let out a few breathy moans coming to his edge. I smirked before gripping his balls tighter and focusing on my mouth around his cock. Jimin pulled me back by my hair making me look at him. Jimin had small beads of sweat forming on his forehead making him look even more sinful.

"I want to cum inside you tonight, do you want that baby?"

I nodded eagerly. Jimin had never once came inside of me always wearing a condom at all time. This was a different situation however. He was blinded by the lust to not even know what he was saying,  however i was the same way. I had luckily been on pill making it a precaution.

(still use a condom for extra protections kids! Remember wrap your willy before you get silly)

Jimin picked me up and placed me on the bed before getting a top of me. Jimin began kissing my neck mumbling unspoken words that were rushed as a blur. I focused on his tongue running along my collar bone as if he was marking what was his. I could still sense the feeling of jealous still ridding through out his system making him continue roughly his attack on my neck and collar bone. I let out breathy moans as Jimin keep on feeling his very evident boner poke my lower region making everything enhance.

"You want to ride my cock baby?"

Jimin released his mouth from my neck looking up at me with swollen lips. I nodded eagerly at his request as i got on top of him. I removed my underwear as i positioned myself on him. I rubbed him across my slit a couple of times before i sung down onto him as we both let out a sigh of content. I began rocking back and forth as our slight moans mixed together. Jimin's hands squeezed my thighs guiding me to move back and forth before they traveled to my ass gripping rather tightly.

Jimin guided his member up making me moan loudly not excepting him to do something like that. Jimin quickly switched positions as i was on my back and he was taking control. It was a whole new experience seeing him take such control but exciting to say the least. I couldn't hold back as he continued his lust filled actions and i could tell it was affecting him as well. Jimin fastened his pace as the beads of sweat increased. Jimin let out a straggled breath as he came undone as did I. His warm liquid soon filled me up to the brim before he got off of me to retrieve a cloth and clean me up as well as him.

We laid on the bed cuddling with one another enjoying the simple company of one another. Jimin rubbed up and down on my arm as i inhaled his scent. I felt completely at peace and i could tell he did too but there was something holding him back from complete nirvana. What just happened had possible been the best sex i had and he couldn't deny it either yet there was something holding him back.

"Im sorry im never as affectionate as Namjoon and his girlfriend are."

I looked at Jimin as he said his abundant statement. He looked straight at the ceiling not daring to make eye contact with me as if he was to afraid of my reaction. He didnt need to be afraid as i understood, even though i was hard headed at times i understood.

"No its fine, I love you just the way you are."

"I do too, its just i dont want out relationship to be just based off if strictly sexual manner. I want to actually share a connection with you rather than swapping spit with you. I do understand why you want to show affection in public and i always wanted to but always been to afraid, i promise ill try to work on it."

I smiled at Jimin warmly loving that he was opening up about something he had been so conserved about. H did want to show more affection but just felt to nervous and didnt see the need to. The fact that he wanted to change that sent my heart into over drive but i would have been fine if he didnt alter this. If he didnt want to show affection in public i would be fine cause he always did it in the private of just us two, where it mattered most.

The affection in public began very slowly as we took baby steps, not wanting to rush all of the sudden.  It had began to progress a couple of days after the whole discussion occurred as we were all seated at the table Jimin being seated right next to me. I had pointed out to Jimin what i thought looked good making him nod and rub my shoulder. As the waitress asked for our orders Jimin so gratefully ordered for me making me blush. I was definitely capable of ordering it my self but just him ordering it for me just made me happy.

"Awe, baby you didnt have to."

Jimin shurged it off bringing his lips to my cheek making my blush deepen. Jimin then held my hands that laid on top of the table for everyone to see. Certainly they looked at use as if we were different people. Yoongi smirked at us finally seeing that we stepped out of the comfort zone. I hide myself into the crook of Jimin's neck making him chuckle and pat my head. It was weird how i was the one originally who wanted more affection yet i was so flustered as Jimin was taking it all in with a smile.

Everyone adjusted to it very easily as they already had to deal with Namjoon and his girlfriend. We were never as affectionate as them making it another reason why they all adjusted so easily. Jimin had convinced himself that Taehyung wasn't okay with it leading to a very awkward conversation of Taehyung trying to explain that he had a crush on Jungkook and the simple thought of pussy made him shiver with disgust. Jimin and I were certainly surprised by the confession but were glad that everyone was alright with the adjustment

it wasnt an adjust for the rest of the members but for the fans that was another situation. As BTS went on there way to leave the states it was a pretty heart breaking moment for all of us, not just me and Jimin. I had went down the line of hugging everyone till i was met with Jimin. I went in for a hug knowing that the possible fan could be lurking before he full on picked me up and kissed me lovingly. Jimin hadnt cared about anyone else as my legs wrapped around his waist and my kiss met his. He was wishing me a good bye one that i didnt forget and one that only invold us two.

"Alright you two, we dont need a full on fuck session in the middle of the airport."

Jimin chuckled into the kiss before letting me back down. Jimin grabbed my hands and kissed me on last time before boarding his flight. He occasionally looked back waving to me before he disappeared from sight making me sigh sadly. Jasmine put her arms around me as we made our way to the car, one that i was dreading.

Days passed since that and army's noticed some said hateful things while other said nice and caring things. Jasmine was rather supportive through the whole thing as she went threw it too. It brought a whole new light to her and her personality. Her and Namjoon still did do extra things and she did talk alot but she had a kind heart. We often shared stories about or significant other and sometimes we talking about random things but no matter what she was always there.

Months passed as i talked to Jimin on the phone missing his touch wishing i could get a single moment with him. I felt even more worst when Jasmine told me that Namjoon was coming to visit her for there break making me sad but understanding that Jimin probably wants to see his family.

I had joined Jasmine on the car ride mostly looking out the window the whole time trying to block out her talking about her and Namjoon. It felt like heaven when she raced out the car as i followed her but it felt as if i was greeted with hell as i saw them hug and kiss one another lips with affection. I huffed and turned around making my way to the car before i heard the sound of someone calling my name. Not just someone.

"Y/n"

I turned my body being greeted by a running Jimin. Jimin held two bags in his hands but as he saw me he dropped them and went into a full sprint as i followed his actions. We collided with each other as he held onto me together afraid that i would disappear at any moment. Jimin kissed ever inch of my face before landing onto my lips as our tongues mixed shortly together savoring the moment of utter bliss.

"I thought you were going to visit your family or something?"

"I did, you are apart of my family you know that right?"

I looked at Jimin lovingly feeling small tears well up in my eyes. He cooed at my state and kissed some of the joyful tears away. Jimin and I had been threw very few struggles either it begin the past couple of years or couple of months. I loved him truly from every inch of him and his whole naked soul. I knew he felt the same and he never once was afraid to let that been known. Jimin loves me and everyone knew of this, wither he show affection or not.

He loved me with all his heart and that's all i needed.

[fortheloveofscrubsandcoffee]

A Brief History of Nearly Nothing

Preface

What is to come next is my unrefined precious metal. Pebbles pulled from rivers in Appalachia. This is me; stay tuned. This story is not about heroes. Nor is it about deeds, or lands, nor anything about glory, honor, might, majesty, dominion, or power. In many ways, we are the creators of ourselves. We choose how to respond to the world around us and choose what to do with what we are given but, we start as children. We come into the world as blank slates and the ones who begin the work of shaping who we are, are our parents. This is the story of how I was shaped into the person I am today.  

————————————————————————

One early November night many years ago, I woke to a dance of light and shadows spilling in from my slightly ajar bedroom door. Pulling back the covers on my bed, I slipped out of the cool satin sheets. I sighed heavily in exasperation. My bedroom floor was laid with original flagstones which were covered in part by an attractive rug. Its familiar sumptuous texture instantly engulfed my toes as I arose. I tiptoed out of my room trying me best to keep quiet and not wake anyone. I teetered past the flickering television jabbering on about the week’s upcoming forecast, I eyed the bottom of the screen which read 5:23 a.m. Oh geez! I thought, what am I doing up so early? And above all... On a school night! Mom is going to kill me! I was on the verge of retreating to my room before anyone noticed I was up when I heard frantic, muddled, voices coming from my parents' room. Alarmed, I walked down the unlit corridor that led to their room; although the door was closed, a flood of light leaked out from under the threshold.

I opened the door to find my mom whimpering on her bed while my step-dad stuffed a worn-out nylon duffel bag with bottles, diapers, and various other baby items. Puzzled, I asked my step-dad what was happening and they both looked at me with a mystified expression. In all the disarray, I wandered into the room unnoticed. They explained that my mom’s water had broken and that we needed to head to the hospital immediately. My mom got off the bed, put on a robe, and in a flash, we were out of the door. As a ten-year-old I did not grasp the amplitude of the situation and unbeknownst to me that night would change my entire life.

My mom was six and a half months pregnant when she gave birth to the best gift life has given me: my beautiful baby sister. Andrea weighed four pounds, five ounces and was the tiniest baby I had ever seen. Her skin was bright red, awfully thin, and practically transparent. Her pudgy fingers were smaller than a raisin and her nails were paper thin. Her straight hair sprung out of her head like tufts of freshly picked cotton. Shortly after her birth, she was moved to the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU), where she recovered from a heart murmur and a few other breathing complications. During the first days of her birth, we only saw her in an incubator where she was connected to all kinds of wires and gadgets that interweaved throughout her frail body. She was constantly being poked and prodded; there were daily weigh-ins, tests, and needles. A breathing/feeding tube was brought into play when her condition did not improve. During our time in the (NICU), various doctors and nurses tended to Andrea’s every whim. Dr. Cervantes, a neonatologist, was in particular, a crucial factor in saving my sister’s life.

During the third week of my sister’s stay in the hospital, her breathing worsened and she developed a condition named pneumothorax, also known as a collapsed lung. “A pneumothorax is a collection of free air in the chest outside the lung that causes the lung to collapse...Treatment may include insertion of a chest tube or aspiration of free air in the chest cavity” (Schiffman). Dr. Cervantes performed the surgery, which lasted about two hours. For the first time in three weeks, we felt safe and relieved as we looked around the tiny room that would be Andrea’s once she arrived home. While Andrea was in recovery, I conversed with the nurses that were in the (NICU). They consoled my worries and raised my spirits when I lost hope that my sister would survive. Their compassion and empathy were an immense part in both my sister’s recovery, and entire family’s healing as well.

Andrea stayed in the hospital for another six weeks to recover from the surgery. She was two and a half months old when we finally brought her home. I sat the waiting room and buried my face in my hands, grateful and relieved to finally have her home. We returned to the hospital several months after her release to check on her recovering heart murmur. Andrea is now eight years old and a healthy, bubbly, miracle baby with energy like lightning. She loves to swim, play volleyball and mountain bike. She is now fully recovered from her heart murmur and hasn’t endured further complications since her birth. I feel indebted to Dr. Cervantes and his team of nurses for working tirelessly on Andrea’s recovery and I’ve set my heart on helping babies just like him.————————————————————————

My mother had my older brother when she was 17 and still in school. Two years later, she had me. As a result, my grandparents watched us whenever she wasn't able to do so, and as time passed, that happened more and more often. They actually ended up raising me but still encouraged a relationship with her. Looking back, I'm convinced that did a lot more harm than good. She just wasn't ready to be a mother so young; she was the sort who was very social and loved to party and needed to be part of the in-crowd. When she was finally ready for children, she went on to have a replacement kid -- a "do-over", as someone once described it -- who, today is my younger sister Andrea. After she was born, our family dynamic completely changed, and my brother and I were left out watching from the sideline. We felt alone and unloved.  Neither of us talked about or showed emotions around each other, ever. Growing up, anytime I showed any sort of emotions besides happiness (when I was sad, crying, angry...) they would tell me that I was being dramatic or just wanted attention. This really affected me, and I feel like I can’t show any sort of emotions without the fear of being ignored or people saying I just want attention. 

I didn’t meet my biological dad until I was about eight years old. My dad had another family, his “real” family, as my mom called them. When I saw the bond, he shared with his other kids I felt so desperate for his love and attention. It broke my heart way too young to get nothing more than a lukewarm response from my father. I come from a highly devout, Southern family. When I was young, I was very sheltered and hyper-religious. I had a lot of profound religious experiences, was homeschooled, and had a very sheltered social life. As I got older, I connected with my dad a bit more. He and I bonded over video games. He'd pull out his Windows 2000 laptop and joystick and we'd play Mechwarrior 4. Or I'd bring over my N64 and we'd play Mario Kart. It was great, and at that time, it was the closest to him I have ever felt. But eventually, both of my parents started rebuilding their lives. I was living with my mom, and she went through a series of bad marriages trying to find a man who would be good to her. Eventually, I got in an argument with my mom and asked to live with my dad. She let me. Teenage angst won, I guess. So, I moved in with my dad. I left my brother behind, to suffer on his own. 

At the time, I thought it was for the best. He’d always gotten along better with my mom anyway. But in retrospect, it put a huge strain on our relationship. We became distant, disconnected, and we eventually stopped talking to each other altogether.  At first, living with my dad was great. It was the two of us against the world. But then he met a woman, and he changed. He stopped putting effort into me, and it got worse when they married. I talked about it with her two daughters and they saw a change in their mom, too. 

I was also starting public school for the first time after a whole life of homeschooling. It was hard, socially. And that was the perfect storm. This new version of my dad didn't have time to play games with me. He started paying a lot of attention to my stepsisters. The younger one was the bubbly cheerleader. The older one got pregnant from her crappy boyfriend at the time. So, I did what any nerdy kid does. I started finding something to do in my room. I turned to the internet. Reading everything I could about anything available to me. And I slowly began to realize that I couldn't believe in the religion I was raised with. I couldn't live a lie like that. But I also knew it would crush my dad, so I kept quiet. I was 15 at the time. I also started getting into online gaming, specifically World of Warcraft. I was so excited; this game was amazing. I tried to show my dad, and he acted like it was a waste of time. I didn't understand what had changed. I still don't to this day. Cut ahead a bunch of years: I'm still nonreligious and out about it to my family. My dad doesn't really know how to act around me anymore; I guess he thinks he can't trust a non-Christian, so he just keeps any conversations with me to small talk. Those old father-daughter chats where we were thick as thieves are just memories. 

I was around 16 years old when I finally had the courage to call my dad out. He basically said that because he's my father, and he was the adult, I had to respect him and as he said, "even when I'm wrong, I'm right". Shortly after our argument, I moved out of my dad’s house and into my grandparents’ home. My brother quickly followed suit and moved in too; we were finally reunited. My grandparents filled the void in our hearts that was empty for so long. They saved our lives. Despite the heartache and misfortune, the big constant in our lives were my grandparents. We were the sunshine of their lives from the day we were born. They always put us first like they were our parents. We had our own room in their house and our own things there. We finally had a home. I appreciate the time and money my grandparents sacrificed each day to make us feel special. My grandmother is an intelligent, insightful woman. She believes that everything happens for a reason and that we didn’t live this challenging life in vain. She says, “Algunas amistades envejecen como el vino, y otras envejecen como la leche”. Which means, some friendships age like wine, and some others age like milk. If someone, (even if they’re family) makes you feel tired and unpleasant more than happy, it's time to let them go. This Mexican proverb has helped me learn to recognize healthy relationships and distance myself toxic ones. Since moving out of my parents’ homes, I’ve surrounded myself with good people and I’ve created my own family with close friends; and I’ve never looked back.   

————————————————————————

I met my boyfriend when I was fifteen volunteering at a long-term care home. We used to flirt (badly), sneak leftover cheesecake and eat it in the linen closet and race each other to the door every week. Our mutual nerdiness was what brought us together. We become best friends and dated throughout high school. He became my comfort and safe place; someone I could count on to cheer me up whenever I had a bad day. Unfortunately, my life went through a number of interesting twists and turns my senior year of high school. My brother died on January 17, 2015, after a year of fighting cancer. We had his funeral and burial on January 19. After his service, we went out to eat and I got really dizzy and nauseous. I couldn't concentrate. People would talk to me and I was kind of out of it. I assumed I hadn't eaten enough, and my sugar was low, so I sipped my sweet tea hoping it would fix it, but it didn't help. I went back home, and I wound up crying, and staring at the floor, and had weird thoughts like eating the linoleum floor. I assumed I was having a nervous breakdown and needed help. So, I told the boyfriend and we decided I was either pregnant or having a nervous breakdown. I took a pregnancy test the following morning and found out that I was, indeed, pregnant. I don't know how to put this. This was one of the toughest few months of my life. I feel like I've felt every human emotion possible from the brightest to the darkest. Mostly dark still. When my brother got sick, I felt guilty that it wasn't me instead because he loved life and succeeded, and I felt like a loser pretty much all the time. My brother was so full of life.  He was driven, loyal, fun, organized. He would have thrown me a baby shower filled with love, and cutesy baby-chick decorations and cupcakes that he'd have baked. When I got my first ultrasound I burst into tears because he would have been the first one, I'd share the news with. He wanted to be an uncle more than anything and would always tease my boyfriend and me to hurry up and make babies. That was only four years ago. How is that fair? How is it even real? 

My baby was due March 31st, 2015. I was around fifteen weeks at my second ultrasound where my doctor told me that I was having a girl. A few weeks later, I went in for another ultrasound and found out that she was a he. I was desperately hoping for a girl, and both my boyfriend and my grandparents were convinced I was having a girl. We had a name picked out for a girl and had hardly discussed boys names.  A few months before his passing, my brother also stumbled across a bunch of my old baby/toddler clothes whilst having a tidy the one day too, it felt almost like fate. I had to hold back tears the entire walk home and when we got home, I pretty much locked myself in the bedroom and cried my heart out for hours. I didn't come out for the rest of the evening; I just had no idea how to handle it. Everything had been going wrong recently, I just wanted one thing to be happy about and it broke me that I couldn't even have the one thing I wanted. Luckily over the course of the next few days, we found a new name we were both happy with (my Granddad's name for his first name, and my partner's middle name for his middle name) and I gradually found myself getting used to the idea. 

I had a rough pregnancy with a lot of complications. I had pre-clampsia and had to be induced. It was only a few days before my due date, so it wasn't a big deal. I was put in the labor room, and hooked up to IV, monitors, etc. and they started magnesium in my IV. The contractions were the worst. Each contraction felt as if a bowling ball landed full force on my spine (near the lower rib area) and then, with the initial force continued throughout, the bowling ball would roll down my spine (like it was crushing it the whole way) and then land in my pelvic area with double the initial force. Every single contraction was excruciating. When it came to pushing out the kid? There was so much stretching and pressure. First off, everything is crushed. Your bladder and all that, you suddenly feel a lot of pressure. The tiny human down there is pressing their way through your innards and it aches, and you feel as if you're going to burst. Suddenly it's time to push. With each bowling ball contraction, you are not only instructed to push, but your body has this natural instinct to localize all your muscles into getting this tiny being out of you. You honestly can't help but push. The stretching? Jesus! Remember that bowling ball I mentioned? Yeah, it wants to come out. Imagine your OBGYN taking the speculum at your routine pap and just extending it as far as it can go, then he/she decides that's not far enough and sticks both hands in there and starts pulling you open as far as you'll go. The worst part was my pelvis. It had all this pressure behind it to start with but when the head starts to come out, it feels as if it's being torn in half while also being dipped in acid. Once I got to that final push and my baby came out, the relief was incredible. When I saw him, the Earth-shattering pain didn’t matter anymore. All I wanted to do was cuddle up with him and sleep. 

I am so much happier since having my boy. I try my best every day to be the best mother I can possibly be. I want him to feel loved and appreciated; I want him to receive and experience everything I missed out on growing up. I can't believe that I really get to live my life with this awesome human! I find everything so fun. Just watching him experience the world is the best thing ever. I feel like I won the lottery. Being a parent is the most beautiful, awful, inspiring, depressing and joyful act I have ever done. The sleep goes, but it comes back. My social life changed a lot, but everything slowly went back to normal. He cries and doesn’t sleep and gets sick and gets messy, but he also laughs and smiles and grew before my eyes. My little one is now three years old and I would trade all my Saturdays sleeping until nine for the rest of my life just to hear him cry for his 4 A.M wake up call again.

The road to recovery from a childhood without a parent's love, and support is long and complicated. One aspect of healing that is rarely touched upon is mourning the parents you needed, and deserved. The word deserved is key to understanding why this remains elusive people:They simply don’t see themselves as deserving, because they’ve internalized what their parents said and did as self-criticism and have wrongly concluded that they’re lacking, worthless, or simply unlovable. A few years back,  I decided to vut both my mother and my father our of my life. My decision was prompted by my discovery that I was carrying a son, my first and only child. I was finally able to do for my unborn child what I hadn’t been able to do for myself: Get free from my parents' poison. In anticipation of becoming a mother, I began the process of mourning the parents I deserved, which had nothing to do with the actual people who’d given birth to me. Just what it sounds like — to grieve the absence of a parent who listened to you, took pride in you, who needed you to understand her as well as she understood you, a person willing to own up to their mistakes and not excoriate you for yours, and — yes — someone to laugh and cry with. I look at my relationship with my own son and, sometimes, I can see how my younger self would have envied him. Even now, it’s difficult to look past how my mother squandered countless opportunities; chief among them, actually knowing me.

———————————————————————— 

Work Cited

Schiffman, George. “Pneumothorax: Definition, Pictures, and Surgery Facts.” MedicineNet. Ed. Melissa Conrad Stoppler. N.p., 30 June 2014. Web. 14 Sept. 2015.

[artificialqueens]

Courtney’s Infinite Search for Love Ch. 8 (Witney) - Grinder

AN: So I took a break from writing (kinda) to focus on my University work or I’d fail majorly. But that’s all over for now so here’s the next chapter of Courtney’s story. This chapter is quite filler-ish not gonna lie so forgive me. But also I wanna thank those for the feedback on the draft chapter of Justifying the American Dream as I am super super excited to write it! You’re all so lovely.

~Grinder

“So, hopefully you bitches have brought feedback and ideas to the table this time.” Bianca questions, slamming her palm down on the table waking us up more.

I would groan at the collision of her hand on the table but I’m already trying to keep a bright smile with my hand in Alyssa’s under the table. We know everyone’s aware of it, but there’s nothing like a bit of discretion.

Dela and Bianca have brought the whole team of Tune.105 to discuss the station’s content as they do every fortnight. The whole team including Willam. And this time I’m not cursing her existence (well maybe with my inner voice I am). Instead I’m just showing off as I pretend to be secretive of my new relationship.

Alyssa and I have been dating for nearly a week now. In the beginning, I was really just looking for a one-night stand. But she had thanked me for a “wonderful” time and requested to see me more. To me, Alyssa is really naive when it comes to love. Kind of like one of those girls who when someone shows them one ounce of affection they’re expecting a wedding the next day. But she is sweet and kind hearted. And as I drunkenly crawled onto the bed next to her I thought of Willam’s jealous reaction. So I accepted Alyssa’s request to see each other more.

I’ve practically spent a whole week with Alyssa, fucking nearly every night. Does it get tiring? Well yeah, but it is so worth it, especially when I get to show off. Yesterday we were nearly caught out making out in the coffee room as Willam had walked in moments after we had finished up. Yeah, she missed everything but she hadn’t missed the sight of our lipstick smudged around our mouths. Then there was my favourite moment. I had this huge hicky on my neck and by huge I mean it was fucking massive and I needed Willam to see it.

Alyssa had been sent up to the station with free cupcakes during Willam’s 80’s show. Trixie and Katya hadn’t left since finishing their show so they were there too. Seeing this as an opportunity, I decided to give them out instead. I passed one to Willam (trying my best to keep a cheery smile and not a murderous one). Then I passed one to Katya. Then, pulling my hair over one shoulder, I leaned over to pass the last to Trixie, exposing the huge bruise like mark on my neck. I didn’t give Willam a second look which I regret now. But I would imagine she stared wide eyed.

That situation has been my favourite so far. I know it doesn’t sound like much but today is another day after all.

“I’m happy to say that I do have an idea!” Alyssa exclaims with excitement. “More guest stars.”

There’s a pregnant pause before Dela replies, “We have enough guests. We’ve had politicians coming in and out for the politics show for the last few weeks.”

“Yeah, but famous people, girl.” Alyssa elaborates.

“Well, if you can get Beyoncé in here, come back to me then, ‘girl’.” Bianca replies, her tone thick with sarcasm.

Alyssa looks slightly defeated, sighing and leaning back in her chair. Poor Alyssa. She really does try.

“To be honest, I like that idea.” I state causing heads to turn. “Who said anything about celebrities? You know we do quite a lot of music shows here yet we’ve never had live sessions from local talent. And besides, I know it is Election season and we’re all slowly getting stressed out so it would be good to put out something different. And not to mention, it could broaden our listenership.”

There’s another moment of silence as the team takes the suggestion into consideration. Fuck, is this awkward or are they actually listening?

“I can’t believe it. Of all the years I’ve run this station…” Dela starts “…I’ve never thought to have local talent guest star in shows.”

“I guess we should get on with finding talent then.” Roxxxy speaks up, looking to her team, Alaska and Matthew.

“Yes. I would appreciate it if you and the rest of the entertainment team could find someone have them in here by the end of the week!” Dela states, writing a few words on her notepad. “Get back to me when you find someone.”

I look to Alaska and her team, smiling as Alaska winks at me. Then I turn my smile to Alyssa who looks happier than ever. I squeeze her hand under the table as she strokes her thumb over the back of my hand. Talk about team work!

-_-_-_-

“Do you think this would look good on me, baby?” Alyssa asks, holding a black dress against her as she pulls faces in the mirror. She doesn’t realize it but she’s kind of blocking the way of other customers.

“Yeah, it’ll look great on you!” I tell her, trying to sound as enthusiastic as I can. I move in order to make room for a pissed off looking Granny. I roll my eyes as I hear the old woman mutter under her breath something about ‘hoes’.

Alyssa sighs quite loudly, turning to face me. “What would I do without you?”

I don’t get a chance to say ‘you’re welcome’ as she gives me a quick peck on the lips. I hear some boys nearby snicker and say shit like ‘Look! Lesbians!’ Why are boys so fascinated with lesbians anyway. I get that girls are majestic but Christ! Down boys!

“I might try this on actually.” Alyssa contemplates turning to look at her reflection again.

“Go for it then.” I reply, but she’s too engrossed in her reflection, pulling faces and tongue popping to herself. People are looking again which causes a bright red blush to burn my cheeks. “So are you gonna go try that on or…”

“What was that?” Alyssa mutters, still fascinated by herself image.

“Never mind.” I say, shaking my head.

-_-_-_-

“So we got either Purge: Election Year or the new Ghostbusters.” Alyssa informs me, turning away from her TV. “Which one would you prefer?”

“I don’t mind.” I reply, munching on a dorito.

“Actually I’ve been really wanting to watch something Disney recently. It’s been a long time. Oh my Gosh, I make it sound like I’m ancient, girl.” Alyssa pauses to laugh. “I’m feeling Beauty and the Beast.”

“Sounds great.” I reply.

And it was great. Thank God Alyssa doesn’t have neighbors because we would have had many noise complaints with all the loud and obnoxious singing. It was great.

Up until a certain scene.

“This is bullshit.” I blurt out as Belle fan girls over her new library. Shit.

Alyssa, who’s laying with her arms around me with her head on my chest, looks up to me with a confused look. “What?”

“Sorry, it’s just reminding me of someone.” I say, brushing it off.

Alyssa’s face falls slightly and she twists a lock of my hair around her finger. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

A bottle of wine later, I’m just staring at the ceiling while Alyssa sits on the other end of the couch listening.

“…and then she built this big fort thing for us to chill out in. No one has ever done something like that for me. It made me feel I was worth all of the effort, you know? And weeks after, she stabbed me in the back. Literally. She took a long pointy knife and stabbed me right in my back with it.”

“Literally??” Alyssa questions, her eyes slightly widening.

“No. I wouldn’t even be here. What’s wrong with you?” I reply, taking a sip from the wine bottle. “We both went to this festival where she decided my attention wasn’t as valuable as the attention of some random guy.”

Alyssa’s eyes are wide again. “She didn’t cheat on you, did she?”

“She did! She was hoisted up on some van while he fucked the shit out of her. I saw it with my own eyes. And I haven’t been able to erase the image from my head since.” I pause again as my voice cracks. I don’t want to cry. There’s no way I’m crying over Willam. “And she had the audacity to try and act like nothing happened after. She only said that we weren’t right for each other and that we should see other people. So, here we are…”

Having one more sip of the wine, I look to Alyssa who’s eyes shift away from me and to the bottle in her hand as if she’s really thinking about what I’ve just said.

“…So…” she pauses, “Am I ‘other people’?”

Realizing my mistake, I put my bottle on the table, sit up and shuffle near her. “No. Of course not. You mean a lot to me, Alyssa.”

“I do?” She murmurs giving me puppy eyes.

“Yeah!” I exclaim. She’s silent. “I think…you’re really attractive. And you’re funny. And you have a good heart.” I pause contemplating on whether or not I should continue. With each thing I say I just feel guilt. Or is it just the misery that I’m feeling in the moment? “…And I know you’re gonna go far.”

Alyssa stifles out another laugh, rolling her eyes. “Girl, I may have the looks and personality but I’m dumb as fuck. I ain’t going nowhere.”

“You are not! I promise you, you can do anything you put your mind to.” I beam at her. I’m not going to lie but hearing Alyssa say these things is only making it worse.

She stifles a laugh as her eyes meet mine again. “You think?”

I caress her cheek with my hand before I answer, feeling a pang of guilt hit my heart. “I know. Besides, you’ve got class. Willam’s just messy. She has nothing on you.”

“Baby, stop.” She whines playfully slapping me on the shoulder as I lean forward and plant my lips on hers, trying to kiss away any thoughts of Willam and every good memory of her. Who needs the bitch anyway? That tiring…slutty…obnoxious…childish…trashy…restless…messy…careless…care free…spunky…free-spirited…bright…charismatic Willam.