#i came up with the au title at like 3am last night

[tblsomedoodles]

Donny's info from my 03 separated au (which i think i'm just calling the Ninja Club au for now. b/c it's stupid and gives me high school vibes.)

But yeah! I wanted to post Mikey here as well, but he's not done yet. (my cringe son will have to get his own post. Darn lol.)

ANYWAYS! Details!

Donny, of course, was raised by the Jones family after they all got separated during a sewer collapse (or something. I may rework the that later) when they're about 2-3 yo. Donny gets found and brought home by a 9 yo Casey.

Splinter finds him when he's eight and spoke with him briefly. But Splinter was in disguise so Donny didn't recognize him past a vague feeling of safe (which he fought against b/c this is Donny.) After realizing that Donny is safe and well taken care of, Splinter leaves him be. (the best splinter could offer was a place in the sewers and if Donny was able to not live in the sewers, Splinter was not going to take that away from him.)

They gets reunited with most of his mutant family (Raph's still missing) when their fifteen. And that's only b/c Mikey refused to wait anymore and surprised him late at work before Splinter could tell him not to.

He's pretty confused about it all, at first, but he eventually happy to have contact with his siblings. (tho he's less stoked about the adventures he keeps getting dragged out on during school nights.)

for the first few months, he's very against learning to fight. He's a high schooler. Sure Mikey and Leo can fight, but that doesn't mean he has to learn.

But then there's an incident involving Shredder, Leo, and a very breakable window, and he realizes he needs to learn so he's not the weak link and so he can protect himself and his brothers. (it also helps that they found out the Shredder had been targeting Donny for said treatment first due to his lack of training and how easy it would be to grab him from school. But Donny hadn't went to school during those days so they went after Leo instead.)

I have so many stupid ideas for this, you have no idea. anyways, that's all for now. Mikey's might be up later today, but i have work to get to rn.

edit: Links for Mikey, Raphael, and Leo's info dumps

#tmnt #tmnt 2003 #ninja club au #i guess #03 donny #my doodles #i love them #i hadn't intended to mess with pronouns for this au #but Donny just had the vibe when i drew them #and now #the only turtle with straight He/Him pronouns is Leo #(Donny and Raph may also be biologically female but i haven't quite decided yet) #(like in the 'assumed male until puberty' way) #(its a thought i had yesterday i'm still processing) #i came up with the au title at like 3am last night #it made me laugh

[soobasaur]

buzzfeed said i like-like you..

— a lee felix x au

(half felix pov half y/n pov)

lee felix x gender!neutral reader genre: best friends to lovers

a/n: this is mainly in felix’s pov since i thought it would fit better, the next felix au will be in y/n’s pov (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃ and if you have any requests just ask away and i’ll try my best <3

« masterlist

felix was currently very calm!! c a l m!!

certainly not panicking, nope not him!

it started when he flopped onto his bed in defeat after giving up on his art history essay

he could only analyze medieval paintings for so long >:((

so he ended up clicking on his folder of bookmarks and scrolling for the buzzfeed quiz one

dont judge him it was very relaxing !!

he did a couple weird ones like ‘what type of bread are you?’ (he was a challah bread apparently?!) and ‘what is your horror movie death scene?’ (he was going to be murdered!!)

he started clicking on the recommended ones until he landed on the romance section

he usually ignored these since they were typically very boring but just for the sake of it he chose one titled ‘are you in love with your best friend?

he scoffed as he let the quiz load and his mind wandered off to you

you and felix had met in grade school due to the both of you being the new kids and immediately being stuck together since no other kids wanted anything to do with you

and every since then you had been glued to the hip

he loved you sure, but being in love with you? he didn’t think he was.. he wouldn’t be opposed to it though

‘do you think your best friend is beautiful?’

obviously!! felix thought, choosing said option, how could he not? u were the most ethereal person he had ever been blessed to see, other then himself of course

‘when you get into arguments, are you reluctant to apologize and end it quickly or wait for them to apologize first?’

felix had to think about this one

you both didn’t rlly fight, it was usually over stupid things like the both of you needing to take care of yourselves more and such

but felix found himself apologizing more since he knew you were too stubborn to make the first move even if you wanted to

and whenever he did apologize you always broke down and did the same

he chose ‘i apologize first to get it over with’

‘do you often cuddle and kiss your best friend?’

doesnt everyone? felix thought, hovering his cursor over ‘duh!’

he often gave you cheek kisses and pulled you into hugs whenever he saw you, even if you were always shy and flustered afterwards

he thought it was cute to see you like that

and you often fell asleep in his bed during movie nights and the both of you woke up tangled into one another

now that he thought about it he didn’t really kiss his other best friends, he shuddered at the thought

‘would you get jealous if someone else were to kiss your best friend?’

felix frowned at the mere thought of someone else kissing you

only he could give you cheek kisses goddamnit !!

he wouldn’t be mad if jisung got kisses from someone else though, he’d be happy his friend had found a partner

but if you found a partner...he didn’t know how to feel about that

it would fall between wanting you to be happy and he should be making you happy

he quickly filled out the question and moved on, that was too much for him

the rest of the questions were things like ‘do you know their favorite color?’ ‘do you have their birthday memorized?’ (yes to both!)

he clicked done and waited for his old laptop to boot up the results

oh...O H

WTF ?/$:&:@;

felix squinted at screen once more before pulling up a google tab

he went through multiple wikihow articles before just shutting down his laptop and taking his head into his hands

did he have a crush on you??? weren’t crushes supposed to give you butterflies and shit?

well...he did get butterflies whenever you complimented him,,,

oh shit he did have a crush on you

he dove headfirst into his pillow and kicked his legs before sitting up, coming to a conclusion

he couldn’t just hold this vital piece of information to himself!!

and that’s how felix found himself in front of your dorm building, freezing in nothing but basketball shorts and a hoodie he was pretty sure he stole from you

felix came barreling towards you, picking you up in a hug despite his tiny size

once he finally stopped spinning you and set you down was when you have him a confused look

“your welcome over whenever but why the sudden visit at 3am?” you ask, leading felix towards your dorm room

“fun news!! i realized i’m in love with you, thanks to a buzzfeed quiz!” he answered, doing jazz hands as you locked the dorm door behind you

“you’re...what now?” questioning if you heard right, ignoring your heart beat thumping loudly against your chest

“yeah like, i’m in love with you and realized it just now so i came here to tell you and-,”

/!&:@:@;@;@@, you were malfunctioning

how was?? felix so?? casual?? about this??

u had known you were in love with him since like /forever/ aND THIS MF JUST REALIZED A MINUTE AGO??

and you told him so, stalking towards him and reaching him in just two strides, shaking his shoulders

“what took you so long oh my god-,”

“wait does this mean you feel the same? cus if not it’s cool we can be homies ahah-,”

you did the cliche thing where you shut him up with a kiss

it made him go ∴◠‿◠∴

“we are not homies-,”

“we’re homies with benefits!”

*deep sigh*

from then on your relationship didn’t change that much

you were just best friends who know kissed one another and made out

bonus: headcanons

felix took on a new routine of coming over to your place at the ass crack of dawn

it drove you mad but you never slept anyways so you always opened the door

which was why felix came over in the first place!! to seduce you into a healthy sleeping schedule ;)

“y/n you would look so good tucked into your covers, all warm and cuddly as i hug you close-,”

“are you really trying to seduce me into sleeping right now??”

“...well is it working?” felix winked

“...maybe.”

(side note felix’s morning voice was to die for so if staying up late got felix to come over then that was another excuse for you to not sleep)

and since he was a dance major you always bought him bouquets and gifts after every single showcase

one time you got him a bunch of red roses and when you guys went back to his place he stuck one in his mouth and pulled you into a slow dance

it didn’t last very long though cus a thorn was left on the stem and caught his lip and you ended up having to help stop the bleeding

he still gave you a smile throughout it all though

“you look so creepy smiling with a mouthful of blood-,”

which made him smile even bigger

college with your best friend was fun but was even more fun with your boyfriend

the two of you often went on double dates with your friends jeongin and jisung, who recently got together, and had a blast going to parties

felix was a clingy drunk

if you thought he was clingy before just you wait

he would latch onto your arm like a koala and let you drag him around

and he would back hug you as you walked around

it was endearing though so you always let him get away with it

but if felix got too much to drink all hell broke loose

you still have flashbacks to that one time he started stripping on the pool table

you got a nice sight of his abs but so did everyone else !!

felix was willing to do anything with you and vice versa

if you even had the smallest inconvenience he was there to help

like that one time your coffee wouldn’t come out of the vending machine he karate kicked it until it did, and dragging you to run away when he spotted a hall monitor walking towards you

all in all he made you happy

it was perfect :’)

thank you for reading !!

#lee felix #yongbok #lee felix imagines #felix x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #lee felix x reader #yongbok x reader #lee yongbok #lee yongbok x reader #felix au #lee felix au #stray kids au #stray kids best friends to lovers

[curly-bangtan]

Heatwave Drabble #9: sweet night (M)

[Heatwave // Godless // Heatwave Drabbles] <- must read first!

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: After a series of miscommunications and immaturity that lead to a rip through both your friendship and ambiguous relationship, this last turn of events could be the deciding factor of whether or not you’ve lost each other from your lives forever.

Genre: angst, smut, fwb au, roommate au, f2l

Warnings: SO much angst and feels, slight slow burner and a lot of build up, unprotected sex, hot tub, oral (m&f), food play, crying, i don’t want to give too much away eeee

Word count: 23.8k a monster i know ;-;

A/N: The end is finally here!! It’s late but trust me when I say I worked all day on this and did not do an ounce of revision today because I wanted to get this done. I’ve been writing this series, and this ending in particular, for so long and have been so nervous about getting this perfect. So please enjoy~

(quite a few ppl also couldn’t be tagged from the taglist and it’s 3am so i honestly dk how to fix it ;-;)

.

You used to think heartbreak was for the weak, after all you can only hurt as much as you let yourself be hurt. So... maybe you are weak. Because that ever-constricting ache in your chest has not diminished even a bit since that day you left him.

Four weeks. Not a word to each other.

It’s a hollowing feeling - someone you’ve had in your life every day for the past few years, a constant companion, suddenly completely absent in a blink of an eye. You don’t think you could put it into words even if you tried how this affected you. Life feels so foreign, your personality dulls.

The anger you felt for him dissipated quicker than you’d anticipated, but the anger at yourself only grew. No matter how you look at it now, you can only see it as being your fault.

But the decision to part ways was for the best, you have to keep reminding yourself. You shouldn’t be around each other anymore.

Whenever you see him around campus, you spin around and speed off the other way, hoping that he doesn’t see you too. Okay, you are weak, okay. But your heart twists at the sign of him, not just squeezes but twists into thorned knots. It’s the sort of pain that takes from you, makes you a different person unrecognisable to yourself.

You had moved in with Lotta. When she asked you what happened, all you had said was that you two had a massive fight and fell out. She knew better than to prod further from the telltale signs that you were close to tears from a simple question: the trembling throat, pursed lips, uncharacteristically quiet voice. And you were grateful because you knew you couldn’t afford to be asked about him without breaking.

The bed feels awfully cold in the nights of early February. And every night, you stare at his name on the screen of your phone, contemplating. One tap and you can hear his voice. One tap and your longing could be absolved. You always almost give in to this overpowering urge itching within your fingers. But you wouldn’t even know what to say to him.

Hi. How are you. I miss you like crazy and I think about you everyday but I know we should keep our distance but I’m just so sorry for everything.

You liked to think that maybe this break is just temporary, you both need space from each other because the toxicity built up so quickly that neither of you could think or breathe. But the longer time is spent away from him, the more you convince yourself that it wasn’t meant to be. It was never going to work; you knew this from the start but had been too optimistic.

And the mistakes you both made… You can’t forget them and the scars you’ve left on each other; you don’t think he’d be able to forgive you, not any time soon anyway.

You wonder if he’s doing the same, if he too is agonising over every wrong step he took to lead you two to this state, or if he’s cursing you for destroying everything. For his sake, you hope he’s moving on. Because that, for some reason, feels so much better than knowing that he’s crying over you.

The strange thing is that you had been the one to break things off. The look of lostness in his red-rimmed eyes laced with an unmissable reluctance will always be an enigma to you. Because he was furious, distraught. So why was he shocked by your ending? How was he not done with you?

That day you left, he wordlessly stood next to you as you packed your things. When you handed him his grey hoodie, the one you had gradually claimed as your own under mutual tacit agreement over your months together, it had truly felt like the end.

“Are... Are you sure? I don’t mind if you keep it.” He had said, voice raw from the arguing but also the tears he was fighting back.

You couldn’t look at him, you knew you would fall apart if you did. “I think it’s best if you take it back.” Why did he want you to keep it anyway?

Something was missing in both your voices when you spoke to each other, reflective of the heart-shaped void you had carved into the other. Everytime you think back to that moment, you want to kick yourself. You could have at least kept the hoodie - that way you could at least have a piece of him to cling onto in your lonely desperate nights.

Because now you have nothing. Nothing of his in your life, no reminder at all that he ever existed with you except the memories embedded so deeply in your heart that it hurts.

No one ever mentions him to you; you think they got the hint from Lotta not to. He’s a ghost.

Haunting you with his heartbroken eyes that shattered at the sight of Jimin. You’ll never forget that.

Sometimes, you’ll just be having dinner with her, and you’ll be crushed with this suffocating wave of missing him. It knocks the breath out of you. Because you can momentarily forget that it’s over, and mistaken Lotta as him. So when you look up and realise that it isn’t him, he’s not here, it’s as if someone is digging their nails into your scabbing wound and releasing the blood of your heartache once more.

And Lotta would look up and ask you, “What? Is the rice overcooked?” And you would want to cry because he would always overcook the rice.

And sometimes, you would just want to blurt it all out to her, right then and there. Tell her everything that had happened with you and him, because - god - keeping it inside is exhausting. But the words get trapped at your throat, unable to be enunciated. Which is just your forte, isn’t it? Not being able to say how you feel...

You are a competitive person, that has never been a secret. You are used to winning at everything you wish to win at, it is in your nature.

So losing Taehyung has been the biggest loss of your life. It had been a gamble from the start, whether it would work or not. There were so many signs pointing in the direction of yes, this is going to work, you love each other so much. Because still to this day, you believe that you are soulmates, and you were one step, three words, away from a happy ending. But then, caught up in this game you played, you hadn’t realised that he had been yours from the very start if you had only just accepted him. And that was your downfall: your failure to see his love for you in the form of his actions, rather than the words of validation you were seeking.

And thus, you had lost your lover, your best friend, your other half, completely of your own doing.

The realisation haunts you every night.

.

It’s Galentine’s Day. In this household, you don’t say the V word.

Lotta has booked a weekend trip to celebrate your mutual [forever alone] relationship status. Some strawberry farm in the countryside for friends to pick berries and make jam and bond over their mutual loneliness. Apparently that’s a thing nowadays.

It would have excited you before, a trip like this. The idea sounds much like a sweet attempt from her to cheer you up, (you haven’t been trying to hide how down you’ve been), so as much as you wanted to just wallow on this shitty holiday, you agreed to go with her.

And to be honest, this might be exactly what you need. A weekend away with your best friend away from the city could heal you. Best friend? Should you call her that? You’re not sure because that title has always referred to someone else previously, someone you shouldn’t be thinking about.

To your credit, you’ve been doing better. You think about him less and less each day; you stopped crying after the first week. You’ve always been a progressor with astounding growth. It’s not to say that you’re doing fine - that would be a reach - because small things such as a cup of hot chocolate would still remind you of him and the string of memories that come with it. But you think your heart is finally slowly starting to stitch itself back together.

Galentine’s weekend just so happened to fall on the weekend of Lotta’s Geophysics trip to Barcelona, as inconvenient as it is. But, rather than letting this disrupt her plans, Lotta had been adamant about going.

“My flight lands at 7am. That’s two hours before we are supposed to meet and depart from the coach station. That’s plenty of time.” She had waved away your concern when this topic of discussion came up last week.

“You never know with flight timings. We could just blow it off and have just as nice of a weekend at home watching movies.” Strawberry picking sounds great for the soul, but so does Netflix and ice cream. “We could have a Saw marathon like we’ve been wanting to.”

“Saw marathon on Valentine’s day?” Lotta scoffed at your suggestion

You blinked. “What’s wrong with that? We love scary films, it’s our thing.”

“It doesn’t matter, I’ve already paid for the trip and it’s non-refundable.”

“I’ll subsidise the cost, there’s no point forcing this trip if it won’t work with your schedule. You haven’t even let me pay you back for my half of the trip yet.” Lotta is like that with money, overly generous when completely unasked for. If you don’t mention paying her back, she would never have asked you to.

“It’s my treat to you, shut up. Just trust me, Y/N, I’ll make it to the coach on time, I always make it on time.” She shook you by the shoulders. “We’ll make our separate ways to the meeting point Saturday morning and everything else will go smoothly. There’s no reason to cancel the trip. Plus, V day is on Sunday, so do you really want to see all those shitty ass rom-com Netflix suggestions or would you rather be enjoying the great outdoors? Trust, we need a break in the countryside. It’s going to be an amazing weekend, you’ll thank me later.”

Right now, as you make a final check through your lightly-packed bag before you leave the house, you find yourself agreeing. You do need the fresh naturally strawberry-scented air to expel all these negativity from you. You want to feel yourself again, be happy and loud and excitable.

Collecting for your trip ticket that Lotta had left on your desk before she went to Barcelona, you decide right now that: yes, this will be an amazing weekend. Law of attraction and power of manifestation. Lotta’s flight will be punctual and you will make some fond memories together.

You’ll be okay.

You arrive at the meeting spot twenty minutes early because you are known to be prone to tardiness. The tour guide welcomes you keenly. He is a young, twenty-something you reckon, tall man, graced with dimples and honey skin. You think you would find him attractive in different circumstances, but you haven’t gotten to the stage of feeling attraction for anyone else yet.

“Your ticket with the barcode, miss?” His smile is charming, you guess. It’s more an observation than an enticing quality. You hand it over to him wordlessly and watch him scan the creased piece of paper. “Great, that’s perfect. And your partner?”

“Partner?” You frown, but realise what he means. This is a Galentine’s programme, of course he expects you not to be alone. “Oh, she should be coming, we came separately because she’s just getting off a flight right now.”

“Oh! That’s very sweet of her to rush back to spend this weekend with you.” The endearment in his smile heightens.

“Yeah… She’s the best.” There’s no particular reason for your awkwardness. You’ve always been a social butterfly, yet lately, you’re keeping more to yourself, avoiding unnecessary conversations because your mind is always too preoccupied.

“I am Jae, by the way, and I’ll be your guide for the weekend. I hope you have a wonderful time with us this Valentine's day. Hop on board.” Giving him a polite nod, you climb onto the empty bus, noting the swirly hearts beside the large red words ‘STRAWBERRY LOVE’ on the side of the big white vehicle. Kind of tacky, but the idea of this programme is kind of cute so you guess it’s suiting. After assessing row after row, you plop down at a window seat you deem worthy and settle your bag on the seat beside you, head leaning on the glass as you await your partner.

Dear partner, please don’t be late, you text her.

Soon, other participants of this trip start arriving, filing a crooked queue in front of the tour guide to register. You don’t pay much attention to them except to examine for Lotta’s face. The coach is set to leave at 9:00 on the dot in order to arrive at the farm at noon, it is now 8:56 and Lotta is still not here. You don’t want to lose faith in manifestation magic, but worry is settling in. If it comes down to it, you will beg Jae to wait for you. With your texts unread, you decide to phone her.

Come on… Just let this one weekend go smoothly for you.

Nervously playing with the ends of your hair, you exhale in relief when she picks up. “Oh thank god, Lotta. Where are you? The coach is leaving in like two minutes. You’ve landed right? I’m not sure if I can convince the people to wait for you that long but worse comes to worse, I could ask for the address of the farm and you can commute there yourself. ” A silence replies after your slur of panicked words. “Hello? Dude, hurry.”

“Wait, so he’s not there yet?” She asks hesitantly.

“Who? The tour guide? No, he’s here. Where are you?” Just then you hear a thunder of running footsteps. Expectantly, you look out the bus window for your friend’s arrival, only to find…

“Wait, Lotta… What the fuck did you do?” Something drops in your stomach.

“Look Y/N, don’t be mad. This is for your own good, you need this.” You can practically hear her stealthy smile through the phone.

An icy chill strikes down your spine. You simply cannot believe what you are seeing out the window. She-

“Lotta…”

“Trust me, okay? You have been so fucking depressed the past month. You need to fix this problem, please. I hate seeing you like this, so if not for yourself, then do it for me.” There’s some guilt in her tone, you’ll give her that. But you are in a state of utter disbelief, borderline shell-shocked, the groves of your brain tangled in itself.

“Lotta, where are you? Are you even fucking coming?” Absolute mortification fills your chest to the brim at your gradual realisation of her ploy.

This can’t be happening.

“I promise, this is all for your own good. Please have a great weekend. I love you. Bye!” And with that she hangs up, leaving you wide-eyed, jaw-dropped, staring out the window...

At a panting, slightly sweat-beaded Taehyung handing his crumpled ticket to Jae.

“Made it just in time, mate.” You can just about make out Jae’s words from the shape of his mouth as he greets Taehyung and proceeds to recite his ‘I’m your tour guide for the trip’ speech. Taehyung nods interestedly, reciprocating with that sheepish smile of his as he scratches the back of his bedhead.

What did your best friend do? Did she just… set you up…? As you hear his loud unmissable steps stomping up onto the coach, you know you’re doomed. It’s over for you. You might as well fling yourself off a cliff.

Looking around the bus, you realise that it of course is completely full except for the seat beside you.

The power of manifestation is fucking bullshit. You’re stuck with this bad luck for the rest of your life.

And this weekend, you’re going to die.

You see him as a blur at the start of the aisleway, a mere figure in swatches of peach and brown and black. You hear pounding, a booming pulse in your ear.

It’s Taehyung. Taehyung. Your, but also not your, Taehyung.

Each step he takes approaching the only available seat he sees, you shrink lower in yours and keep your eyes pressed shut, but for what reason you’re not entirely sure. There’s no hiding now.

Your confrontation is inevitable, a few steps away. Then he finally sees you.

“Y-Y/N?”

Your heart soars to your throat at the sound of his voice as everything around you vanishes. This can’t be real.

Slowly, you turn up to face him. When your eyes meet, it’s like someone has driven a sharp object into your chest and twisted. His face is exactly how you remember, but also not quite. His big brown eyes are wide with surprise in a pitiful expression of bewilderment. His sleep rumpled hair, grown out to almost cover his eyes, yet still very much permed in the style you loved. His lips are jutting out, slightly parted in confusion at your unexpected presence that reminds you of how it felt to kiss him.

And the look of disgust that you had expected - absent.

You want to throw your arms around him. There is always a warmth emitting from Taehyung - the kind of warmth you feel when you enter your house on a snow ridden day and the gust of heat accompanied by the smell of home simply swallows you like a wave. But there is also something different, unfamiliar almost, about him. He is rougher round the edges, hints of facial hair dotted below his nose, dressed in slacks that he only usually wore strictly as pyjamas and never to go outside in.

As your eyes fall to the rest of him, you notice his fists tighten around the straps of his backpack, the balls of his knuckles whitening.

“Taehyung-” Saying his name feels like a release. A rush of satisfaction at the way the syllables roll off your tongue so naturally, then a flood of emotion that comes with all the memories his name invokes.

Then you’re at a loss for words again. You are so utterly unprepared for this situation because you didn’t think you would meet him again so soon, not until you’ve moved on. You’re not ready to face him.

What do you say? How are you meant to act around him?

He looks equally as lost, though you read him easily. There’s a flash of hurt in his eyes, the same that you’re sure you had. But it dissolves much quicker with him, almost into relief and content as if he’s glad to see you.

You know from the slight downward angle his brows are pointing that he has definitely missed you. Perhaps in a completely different way from you missing him, but he’s missed you.

“If I could just have everybody's attention!” Jae’s voice booms from the speaker, startling every passenger. “Young man over there, please be seated.” You quickly snatch your bag into your lap to let Taehyung sit next to you. The seats aren’t the most spacious; despite pressing your side against the window as much as you can, Taehyung’s shoulder comes brushing past yours as he settles into his own seat. Your heart flutters. “As all our participants are now present, our ride will begin immediately. The duration of the ride will be three hours, but a pitstop will be made at around halfway for a quick snack or toilet break. Please ensure all seatbelts are fastened during the entirety of our journey...” He drones on.

Three hours, you bristle. Everything is happening all at once and your mind can’t catch up. You’re going to be stuck on this coach for three hours next to Taehyung. No, worse. You’re stuck with Taehyung for this whole weekend in a strawberry farm.

Glancing over, his lips are pressed into a thin line, no doubt with the same chaotic thoughts racing through his mind. There isn’t much leg room, and though his thighs are purposely clamped together to avoid touching you, you know he can’t keep them clamped this tightly for three hours without cramping. Your legs are going to touch at some point.

God, why are you even losing your mind over something so juvenile? You’ve been reduced to a pre-teen girl so easily flustered by the thought of touching thighs amidst this turn of events.

Everything is gonna be okay, you tell yourself. This is gonna be fine. You don’t have to speak to each other. Just put in your earphones and fall asleep against the window.

But you have so many questions, for Lotta, for Taehyung. Did she plan this? How did she know that he’d be here? Hell, did he know you’d be here? No, there’s no way. The shock on his face was genuine.

He stares ahead, though visibly extremely puzzled. You suppress the urge to glance over at him every second to check that it’s really him.

“Thank you everyone for joining us so promptly. As you already know, I am Jae and I will be the guide to your trip to our beautiful strawberry farm over this Valentine’s weekend.” You pause. Right, this is a Valentine’s weekend trip, you had momentarily forgotten. And you’re stuck with Taehyung here. Two days, two nights. You’re not sure if you could withstand his presence for that long. Will you ignore each other for the entirety of this trip? You would be fine with that, and in all honesty, you think you might prefer it over speaking to him because that would only sprinkle salt on your wound.

A sharp pain in your palm reminds you that you’ve been gripping onto the programme leaflet that was handed to you. You smooth out the creases of the paper and flip it open to skim through what you have to tackle ahead of you.

Day 1: Go strawberry picking with your partner at our scenic farm in the lovely spring weather while the sun is out. A heavenly spa awaits you afterwards to wind down and indulge together. For an amorous evening, go stargazing under our cloudless skies...

Alarm bells start ringing immediately, from the cursive font of the strangely-worded phrases, to the shades of reds and pinks of the background. You skim further down the page, the kernel of anxiety growing exponentially at your throat.

Day 2: Make delicious strawberry jam and learn our signature recipe for a splendid strawberry tart. When dusk falls, enjoy a romantic candlelit dinner with your partner amidst the symphonies of our string quartet.

Fuck. Wait, what the fuck.

You flip back to the front page.

Strawberry Love: The Perfect Couple’s Romantic Getaway Valentine’s Weekend

Strawberry… Love…

“What the fucking shit?” You can’t help but cry out loud. Lotta- She-

The passengers of the bus all turn to shoot you at look of concern at your outburst, Taehyung included. His eyes dart around the features of your face to search for an answer. “What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong… What’s wrong…? What isn’t wrong at this point?

You feel defeated, absolutely fucking defeated that you don’t even have it in your to be shocked or angry. There is no way you can ignore him for the whole weekend when the programme of your trip - a couple’s Valentine’s trip - obligates you to spend time with him. The thought of making stupid little strawberry tarts with Taehyung… Your blood can’t even boil, you’re just fucking speechless.

Lotta, that conniving genius that is your best friend. How did she manage to pull this all off? Galentine’s trip your fucking ass. She tricked you into a romantic holiday with Taehyung, fucking hell...

But that means - she knows. The mortification hammers into your stomach. There’s no reason for her to do this other than for the purpose of getting you two to make up. Lotta fucking knew about you and Taehyung.

How? For how long? And why does she think that this will benefit you in any way? You and Taehyung are over and you were slowly (fine, excruciatingly slowly) moving on. Until now.

Letting out a huff of your frustration, you turn to look at Taehyung, properly look him in the eye for the first time. You can’t stop your chest from constricting. He regards you with that confused expression of his, eyes holding your glare but barely just, bashful from your sudden undivided attention channeled towards him. “I need to know what you’re doing here first.” It comes out harsher than you mean for it to, but it stems from your desperation to stay inert while your emotional sanity is precariously threatened right now.

“Me? I… Well, Lotta told me that she had a ticket for this weekend-trip to a strawberry farm type thing that she couldn’t go to anymore, so she asked if I wanted to go in her place because she knows that I like strawberries.” He furrows his brows. “Okay, that sounds really stupid out loud but I swear I didn’t know that you were gonna be here.” He throws his hands up, nothing but honesty flooding his chocolate eyes.

But of course, Taehyung doesn’t lie, you are sure from the times you’ve witnessed him not being able to muster up an excuse to get rid of an annoying relative on the phone. What’s more convincing of his truth is that he would not be the most difficult person to fall victim to Lotta’s scheme - drizzle in mentions of food and he is completely your pawn. You almost feel bad for this unsuspecting fool; he still has no idea.

But Lotta, that sly bitch… You are going to wrangle her when you get back.

“Taehyung… She lied to you.” You sigh, watching his features slowly contort in deeper confusion.

“Wait what? So we’re not going to a strawberry farm?” He sits up in alarm, looking around the bus as if that would grant him any insight whatsoever. You almost laugh at his naivety because as much as you want to uphold your cold exterior, something about him, his ever present innocent boyishness maybe, never fails to penetrate through to you.

“No, that’s not what I meant. She lied to me too; she told me that this would be a girl’s trip because we’re both single and bitter for Valentine’s. Get it? It was just a setup. For you and me.”  As the clockwork finally turns as he processes your words, a visibly distressed grimace forms. “Look at the programme, Taehyung, it freaking says: Strawberry Love: The Perfect Couple’s Romantic Getaway Valentine’s Weekend!”

As those words resonate from your mouth and the realisation finally dawns on him, dread settles itself in the pit of your stomach, cold, dry and coarse. Saying it aloud somehow finalises it - this is actually happening, you’re going to have to spend this weekend with the one person you’d least like to be stranded with right now.

“Lotta… But why would she…?” Deep red roses effloresce across the apples of his cheeks, and you feel yourself unconsciously mirroring his reaction as your mind flashes back to the planned activities of this tour. You’ll be made to pick berries and bake pastries together. And the romantic candlelit dinner… You can’t even finish that thought. Because even now, you find your eyes roaming every inch of his face, trying to memorise his details because it’s been so long.

This isn’t healthy for your heart. You were on a path of recovery, a path of forgetting him and forgiving yourself, and now you’ve been flung back to square one.

The bus jolts. His leg lightly knocks into yours and both your attentions momentarily divert to the touch, glaring at where the thick grey material of his joggers meets the thin cotton of your trousers. A long second passes before Taehyung lifts it away from you.

“I don’t know why she’d do this. All I told her was that we had a massive falling out.” You mutter. Except you do know, you know her very well. This was no mistake, but the result of careful planning. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“So maybe she’s trying to get us to reconcile?”

As soon as those words come out, you both seem to freeze in your spots, blinking in bewilderment at the slightest mention of the elephant in the room. It might be wishful thinking but you hear a sliver of hope in his question, and you think he hears how it came out too.

Reconcile.

Could the two of you reconcile after everything you put each other through in your last few days together? The thought tears you apart emotionally. Of course you want to reconcile, of course you want to be with him. But haven’t you proven enough that what you had didn’t work? Afterall, everything you had together came crumbling down at the smallest hitch in your path. What is there to reconcile but a dysfunctional relationship?

And how could either of you forget the torment you endured? The noises of Taehyung with another woman through the thin walls, your betrayal of his heart when you mistakenly slept with Jimin.

Reconciliation doesn’t seem possible in the foreseeable future.

“N-not reconcile in that way, I mean, like, for us to make up.” Taehyung stammers, hand waving about in his nervous state. “I mean- no, not make up, but like… make… peace. Yeah, make peace. Sorry.” He winces timorously at his spectacular fumble of words. It’s surprising how nervous and timid he is acting. He should be brutish to you, savage and hostile. But he isn’t.

“Yeah, I got what you mean… Don’t worry.” You can’t stop the corners of your lips from turning up, just a fraction. “But yeah, I think she wants us to make peace.” You conveniently do not bring up how you’re certain that she knows about your history and that this holiday she booked for you and Taehyung is most definitely for the purpose of reconciliation in that way.

“Right.” His bottom lip pinched between his teeth in a manner that makes it feel as though it’s a sight you shouldn’t be looking at, Taehyung’s attention shifts down to avoid your eye. Though, there’s a clear glimmer of expectation as he asks, “So… do you want to talk it out?”

The bus bounces, violently this time, as it drives over what must be a pebble. It rattles your thoughts so physically that you have to grip onto your trousers for support.

This is the deciding moment. Now is when you can choose how you go about this which will determine the rest of your weekend together.

Do you want to talk it out?

The painful memory of the last time you had tried to “talk it out” rakes its claws down your back. All the yelling, the hurtful accusations hurled both ways, the reluctance to accept blame… It haunts you so much so that your voices still ring in your mind, echoes embedding the misery you had both felt and inflicted deep in your bones.

The three stages of your fight painted clairvoyantly in your mind.

One: The Hurting Each Other.

You fuck guys without learning their names.

Two: The Guilt-Tripping.

I didn’t sleep with her. I couldn’t even kiss her for more than a minute on her bed because it felt so wrong it made me fucking sick. I stayed on her couch and thought about you all fucking night. Happy?

Three: The Falling Apart

I… I thought it was clear how I felt…

Always replaying in a loop.

“I’m not sure what there is to talk out.” You say, hating how callous you sound but knowing that it’s a necessary evil to convey your intent. That was in the past. Taehyung is your past. Talking about it would only drag you back into that perpetual cycle and there’s not much left in you to afford that. You look out the window at the open plains of grassland to avoid the hurt you know he can’t hide on his face. “I think it’s better if we keep our distance as much as possible and not make it difficult for ourselves.”

“Okay.” You hear him reply, but only a quiet mumble. From the faint reflection of the window, you see him tighten his jaw and fit his Airpods into his ears. The monster that is your guilt and bitterness sinking its fangs into your throat.

It’s better this way.

And so the bus continues to speed off to the countryside, driving you further and further from civilization and your chance of escape from this doomed weekend with the boy you’re trying to stop loving.

.

You wake up to someone gently shaking your shoulders. “Miss…” You jolt upright.

The first thing that elucidates in your sleep-fogged vision is your tour guide’s kind face smiling down at you. The second, when you come to your senses, is that you are leaning against Taehyung’s frame, his shoulders much harder than you remember them to be. The boy himself is fast asleep beside you, arm loosely linked with yours because you know he has a habit of holding things in his sleep. You hastily pull away.

“We’ve arrived, Miss.” Jae says politely, that humoured glow in his pupils eliciting a bashful blush from you.

“Oh right.” You look around to find the coach empty except for the three of you. “That’s embarrassing, I’m sorry.” The last thing you remember was the angry texts you spammed Lotta with before the songs in your playlist all blurred into one.

“No worries. Forgive me, I’m still learning names.” The heat of the sun is seeping through the glass of the windowpane, licking tenderly at your skin to rouse you awake. “I’ve tried to wake your partner, but it seems...”

“I’m Y/N. And don’t worry, he’s impossible to wake up.” You pause. There is a chance for you to rectify his misconception that you and Taehyung are a couple, except it would probably require some explaining or white-lying and now is not a great time if you’re holding up the whole group. “I’ll do it.”

Despite the conversation being had right over him, Taehyung shows no sign of his slumber being disturbed. His head is tipped back, mouth hanging open with a small dribble of drool beading at the corner of his mouth. Still the same deep-sleeping idiot.

“Oi.” You nudge his ribcage, scaring Jae with your coarseness. “Wake up, Taehyung.”

Nothing but heavy breathing.

“Dude, we’re here.” You grab his face between your harsh fingers and begin shaking vigorously.

Not even a stir. You remember how you used to like to joke that Taehyung could sleep through a burglary, and just to prove your point, you woke up in the middle of the night one time and screamed at the top of your lungs. He did not even move a toe.

“Uh-” There is a hint of worry in Jae’s face; perhaps he thinks that Taehyung has a health condition.

“It’s okay, I’ve got the trick.” This time, you pinch his nose with considerable force and clamp your palm over his mouth, ignoring the smoothness of his skin under your touch and the feeling of his lips skimming your palm. You glance up to find Jae’s eyes almost bulging out of their sockets, swaying uneasily at your method to wake him. “Don’t worry, it works every time.”

But true to your word, in a few seconds, Taehyung is sputtering for breath, eyes flying open in befuddlement, scrambling to sit up. You let go of his nose and smile at your tour guide only to find him petrified.

“What?” In disarray, Taehyung wipes at the corner of his mouth and pats his hair back down from its messy temperment. His heavy body no longer slumped against yours, you feel a weight lifted off your chest, though the fact that you had fallen asleep on each other plays at your mind, lingering to taunt you.

“We’ve arrived.” Jae winces.

You stare at the patterned seats of the coach, trying not to pay attention to Taehyung’s embarrassed apology and explanation on what a deep sleeper he is. You’re not going to think about Taehyung and sleeping. Mindlessly, you trail behind the banter men off the vehicle. You’re not going to think about how good it feels to sleep beside him.

The sun greeting you when you step foot onto ground instantly refreshes your mood, banishing away those thoughts that were slipping through the cracks. There’s something so healing about the air of the countryside, fresh and unpolluted and full of the pleasant crisp scent that one would associate with green and yellow. Staring back at you is a seemingly endless field of bushes dotted with red, the sweet berry smell already perfusing into your nose.

You ignore the crunch of gravel sounding from Taehyung’s steps not far from you and proceed to join the waiting crowd, their phones out to capture the stunning scenery.

As everyone gathers, it’s difficult to concentrate on Jae’s briefing of the weekend planned ahead, starting with an introduction to the farm which you frankly do not care to learn about. You try not to glance over at Taehyung at the corner of your eye, at how his hair is still sticking out awkwardly in the back, his eyes slightly swollen from sleep. You try not to notice his hesitancy, standing a distance from you despite everyone else standing in their couples.

It’s like a buzzing in the back of your mind, a constant tug at your consciousness, not allowing you to relax as much as you want to in this serene environment. You want to stop thinking about him but you can’t.

“In February, the weather is set to be nice and warm during the day and slightly chilly in the evenings, so I do hope that you have packed sufficiently as stated in the email. Now, if you look to your left...” Jae’s monologue drones on like white noise, because all you can focus on is not focusing on Taehyung.

Lotta has not replied to your hounding messages with anything of use, no answers to your plethora of questions. Just relax. Stop making such a big deal out of it, grow up and make up with him because you clearly aren’t over him. You wanted to tell her that things are not that simple, she doesn’t know how badly you both fucked up. Yet, you know her response would only be some pretentiously worded reply full of the condescending wisdom it always contains when she’s telling you off.

You’ll admit it, as stubborn as you are, Lotta’s advice is right 9 times out of 10. She was right when she said you shouldn’t have gone with Taehyung to Mykonos within two weeks of knowing him because he could have been a killer or psychopath. She was right when she pointed out that you act like Taehyung annoys the living shit out of you but you secretly care deeply for him.

But she’s definitely not right this time, you are adamant about it. It would be a miracle if you and Taehyung could even be friends within the next six months, let alone… And if anything were to happen, setting you two up on a romantic holiday together is certainly the wrong way to go about it. It feels so inorganic, like you’re forced to spend time with each other.

Out of habit, you steal a glance at him. It’s not a surprise to find him not paying an ounce of attention to Jae either. Taehyung is staring off into the strawberry field, face angled away from you such that the sunlight is hitting his skin in all the right places to glaze a golden aura over him.

It’s strange to see such a permanent sadness in his eyes, a melancholic nostalgia. You hate yourself - you did this to him, you broke him. Does he hate you? Resent you? You think you’d rather he did.

Soon, the group of you are whisked away down a pebbly path to a rustic looking hotel beside the farm where you will all stay in. It’s not the old run-down type of rustic, but more the luxurious kind that very evidently serves an aesthetic purpose. And that’s when you begin to notice, this “farm” is not really a farm at all, but more a boujee farm-themed resort. This trip could certainly not have been cheap. As much as you are here against your will, you can’t help but feel immense gratitude to Lotta for her willingness to spend such money on you.

You are stopped at a grand lobby, the style of which resembling a small piazza of Southern Italy - warm neutral-toned Roman concrete walls with a green flourish of vines and bushes. It’s absolutely stunning, a surreal setting that you only see in movies. It’s impossible not to feel the air of romance circulating this architecture. You glance over to find him, stood an awkwardly respectful distance away from you, gaping around at the interior of the building in awe. He is a sucker for art, especially architecture. You almost wish you were friends again only to hear him gush about the beauty of this place.

When Jae begins to hand out room keys, it suddenly occurs to you, perhaps the worst aspect of your predicament this weekend - you are sharing a room with Taehyung.

You are sharing a…

Heart sinking, you look over again to see if the same thought has dawned on him. It has. His eyes are fixed on Jae in an eerily blank way, his jaw tense, a single bead of sweat trickling down the side of his forehead which you will excuse as the heat.

When Jae approaches you, Taehyung automatically joins your side in a dazed worry. Eye contact made was brief, not enough for you two to communicate whether or not you tell Jae that this was all a mistake and you would much rather be apart.

“Here you go, Y/N.” Your guide flashes you that charming grin of his as he waves your keycards before you. Instinctively, you receive it in your palm. “You guys have got the deluxe suite - wonderful choice.”

“We-” You begin, but he doesn’t seem to take notice. You’re starting to notice that he perhaps likes the sound of his own voice a bit too much.

“As I said, strawberry-picking will start at half past so that gives you a bit of time to drop off your luggage and freshen up after the long ride.” He continues. This will probably be the only chance you get to tell him that you and Taehyung aren’t a couple before it becomes too late, and you’re going to miss this opportunity because of another one of his monologues. The desperate itch in your chest grows an uncomfortable size. “Please meet here at the reception on time. And as for your luggage - oh, I see you two are lightly-packed. Low maintenance, my favourite type of people. In that case, your room is on the ground floor, if you follow that lovely couple down that corridor over there.”

And just like that, he smiles, retracts his extended arm pointing towards the direction of your room and turns to guide another couple.

“Wai-” You call after him weakly, but he has once again launched into the same speech he’d recited to you to a new audience.

And there goes your chance of rectifying this weekend.

You stand there for a good minute, mind trying to piece together how, just how, you will manage to survive this weekend. Taehyung is quiet beside you, equally as baffled at what to do.

“Should we head to our room then…” He mutters after too long a moment of unmoving stature. “I kinda want to change into some lighter clothes and we don’t have that long.”

You nod without looking at him. Because you can’t stand looking at his face right now, the face that you’ll be stuck with for these two days, the face that you love.

Silence between you now grows more familiar as you walk wordlessly to your room, the round corner of the plastic keycard digging hard into your palm. It’s painfully awkward. Your echoing steps provide the only stable rhythm against the storm between you.

Beep. The door opens at your will with a swipe of the card.

You weren’t prepared for what exactly the deluxe room entails. Its size could easily be a tiny studio apartment: a small seating area consisting of a pearly white sofa and a glass coffee table so delicately built that you would not trust yourself near; a mini-kitchen on the left side of the room accompanied by a generously stocked beverage bar; a king-sized bed in the far right wine-red in colour and excessively buried in frivolous cushions. But the belle of the ball is really the glass panelled-wall at the back of the room that you face as you enter, spanning from ceiling to floor, opening up to the patio hand-plucked out of your dreams. Rose bushes, circular beige woven garden daybed, and not to mention the hot tub.

You are completely in awe. Your mind instantly flashes to Mykonos. This luxury is the furthest from a farm experience whatsoever. It really explains how every couple on this trip looks like the child of a wealthy politician with their finely manicured hands and sickly cologne.

“Woah.” An octave deeper than usual, Taehyung expresses his wonder as he surveys the extravagance that is your room. “This… How much must this have cost?”

“I have no idea.” You whisper, still in your state of near speechlessness while your feet take you to the glass wall.

This is a place of romantic films, a place for honeymoons. Everything is in a rose-gold tint, glistening almost mockingly under the soft February sun. Why are you here? You almost hear the slabs of sandstone ask.

Behind you, you hear him huff out the marvel that he is submerged in. His backpack slides off his shoulder, swung carelessly towards the loveseat. And plop he goes, starfished onto the bed.

Then the fear returns, reclaims its usual residence in your throat. As you pry your eyes away from the opulence of the veranda to look at Taehyung, his head lifts up at the same moment. The short-lived mist that clouded over your reality finally disperses.

You blink again at his sprawled out limbs. He blinks back.

It is as if a switch has flipped, the speed at which he jumps back onto his two feet, fright jarring his mouth agape. “I’llsleeponthesofa.” The slur of his words are unintelligible to your ears, but his display of alarm is almost comical, threatening a smile from the corners of your lips at the hysteria of your situation despite the same alarm you are experiencing.

“What?”

“I’ll sleep on the sofa.” His voice is firmer the second time he says it, tilting his chin up as if to reassure you of his confidence.

“It’s okay, I’ll sleep on the sofa.” You sigh because you know how much Taehyung is bursting to sleep in a king-sized bed. It was his first time in Mykonos, and you had not heard the end of how it was the best sleep he’s had in his lifetime. So imagine him now.

He bristles, a genuine look of offence fleets. “Of course not, I can’t allow that.”

“Why not?” Your tone with him is foreign, lacking the playfulness it once had - just an aloof callousness.

“‘Coz! I’m not gonna let you take the couch while I sleep on this massive bed.” He gestures at the couch for emphasis, letting his arm dangle afterwards. He is less different with you than you are with him, you note.

“You just answered my question with the very statement I was questioning you on.” You cross your arms and lean against the glass, allowing the warmth to bask through your shirt.

Taehyung frowns and mirrors your action, the muscle of his bicep flexing more than usual from the agitation in his motion. “‘Coz you’re a light sleeper. Just stop being stubborn and take the bed.”

You’re not quite sure why, of all things, ‘you’re a light sleeper’ is what moves you. The consideration he still holds for you inhibits any protest you wish to sound.

He cares about you, he clearly still does. Just like how you would willingly give up the bed for him.

God, you don’t want to fucking be here. You wish it didn’t have to be so painful, every single little interaction between you just reminding you again and again of how much you loved and hurt each other.

Taehyung takes your silence as compliance and begins to unpack, ruffling through his bag for a change of cooler clothes with his shoulders tense in discomfort. You know what the mature person in you should say: we can just share the bed. But you can’t think of a single reason why that would be a good idea.

With this Valentine’s trip completely planned for you two, it feels like the universe presenting you with an undeniable temptation. Everything around you is telling you to just get back with him, to give in to your inhibitions and fall back into him. You’ve got the champagne in the cooler, hot tub in the patio, rose petalled bed all laid out in front of you at your disposal. An inner voice chanting make up, make up, make up. Because what’s stopping you?

What’s stopping you is that look on his face when he saw Jimin fixing the back of his shoe beside you as you were walking him out. What’s stopping you is the sound of another girl moaning his name right down the hall from you.

So maybe some could see it as strength for resisting the yearning, for being able to put up a front and speak to him so indifferently. But you see it as weakness, because you still cannot move on.

.

Despite the sun blazing down your back, the cool gust of spring weather eases what otherwise would have been scorching heat. Never would you anticipate that you would be spending this weekend sifting through strawberry bushes to find large red ripe summer fruit, yet here you are. You don’t even think it’s strawberry season.

You’ve never been a country girl, but the dirt feels strangely comforting under your nails. Well, comforting is perhaps not the best word to describe your state of mind right now. As much tranquility as this farm is bringing you, with Taehyung always no more than two metres away from you, you don’t think you could ever relax.

In black sports shorts, plucking his own berries on the other side of the same very row of bushes, sweat trickling along the veins of his neck… Of course your attention is scattered.

Not to mention, you keep catching his shifting eyes. You thought you ought to say something, but what exactly? The awkwardness is prominent as it is.

A heavy exhale. You find a particularly large berry, leaves curling upwards to indicate its ripeness as the strawberry expert (yes, strawberry expert) had taught you. Pluck. And off it goes into your basket.

This is definitely therapeutic. You imagine every strawberry to be your feelings for Taehyung. This one over here shall symbolise his musky scent that you fall asleep to. Pluck. This one, his stupidly attractive perm, so long that even you would tell him to trim it because it’s covering his eyes. Pluck. His eyes… Especially when he’s confused as he makes that wide-eyed puppy dog face, which is very often. Pluck.

You glance up, you can’t help it.

And he’s already looking at you. Caught red-handed, literally red-handed because his hands are somehow stained with strawberry juice. Instantly he whips his head back down at his basket that is rested by his crouching knees, though there is not much in there for him to look at.

“Stop making this weirder than it already is.” He almost jumps when you speak, clearly not expecting any sort of interaction from your end.

Slowly, he glances back up at you, dark wavy fringe swaying from the slow tilt of his head. “I- Sorry, I wasn’t- Um, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

There’s something quite breathtaking about Taehyung under the sun, the way the rays reflect off his honey-tan skin to give an effulgent finish like a marble statue of some Ancient Roman God worshipped by priests and maidens. The coat of sweat gathered at his cupid’s bow could possibly be your undoing.

You love him, despite all the strawberries symbolic of his traits that you were picking.

And you hate yourself for that. You don’t want to feel like this anymore. You’re so sick of this heavily-hearted feeling of being dragged down by your emotions all the fucking time. You want to be able to look at him and feel nothing, look at him and not be intruded by the echoes of that night.

It makes you sick, the thought of him inside someone else. Physically sick to the core.

“Well, you are. So stop looking at me.” You state coldly. You just want to forget everything and let go of him, but his presence is not letting you do so. If being a bitch is what it takes, you’ll gladly be a bitch

“No, you have dirt on your face.”

Embarrassment slams into you like a wave, wielding you to shut your eyes and take a deep breath of humiliation. It’s instant karma for being a bitch. “Oh.” You say, carelessly wiping all over your cheeks with the back of your wrist, more with the intention of hiding the rush of blood to your face than to actually clean. You keep your eyes trained on a tiny pale berry in the bush, hoping that he’ll look away from you.

But he doesn’t. “You’re smearing it.” You look up to find his lips drawn in a tight line in attempt to hide his amusement. Everything is just working out wonderfully for you, isn’t it? Yet before your mind can process it, he rises from his crouch and leans over the short bushes.

When his thumb meets your cheek, it almost sears you. As his eyes are focused on the dirt on your face he’s brushing away, yours are locked on his gaze - gentle, warm, familiar. The collar of his shirt droops low, exposing his chiseled collar bones, protruding so enticingly as if for the sole purpose to catch your attention and remind you that it was one of your favourite places to bury your nose in.

Taehyung’s touch is heartbreakingly gentle; the rest of his fingers come under the side of your jaw for support, though only fleetingly. The whole exchange is brief, the dirt brushed away as swiftly as your relationship had crumpled.

You feel it in your nose first, that overwhelming wave of sadness, and then behind your eyes. You want to cry. You want to cry as he pulls away, as he realises that he has unconsciously acted out of familiarity, as a shyness reaches his eyes when he meets your glare.

It was only a mindless sweep of his thumb on your face, yet its impact is explosive under your skin, reminiscent of a time when such a touch had different implications, elicited a different response.

You quickly blink it away - the tears, but not the heartache. That wretched feeling in your throat does not permit you to thank him, so you just stare at each other, the world around you a mere blur of blues and greens. You watch his chest rise as he sucks in for air, wondering if the same memories are now visiting, no, haunting, him.

You can’t do this because you’re not strong enough. For you whole act of indifference in front of him, your constant resisting against the urge to fall back into him, you’re still not strong enough.

But to your surprise, or perhaps even gratitude, he’s the one who picks up his basket and paces away without another word. You watch the back of his calves, the slosh of his overgrown hair, as he walks away.

.

You stare out the glass door at the patio. It’s dark, you can scarcely see a thing with the lights outside switched off. It acts as a perfect canvas for your imagination, for scenes of your past together to materialise before you.

It’s not been a full day yet, and you already feel so drained. This is impossible. You want to call Lotta to pick you up, but upon deeper consideration, you don’t think you have the heart to. This must have cost her a considerable amount of money to book. She had the full intention that this will bring you and Taehyung back together, yet it is doing everything but. You don’t want to imagine her disappointment when you return in streams of tears.

After the session of strawberry-picking, your baskets were handed over for your fruits to be washed and prepared for your baking class tomorrow. Following that is your free time, when you are left to your own devices, at liberty to roam around the farm, dine at their organic restaurant by the hotel. Taehyung had taken Jae’s recommendation of visiting the spa; you opted to stroll (sulk) about, as far away from him as possible.

It’s unhealthy, this continuous bombardment of thoughts of him. Your month’s worth of progress has reduced to ashes.

Maybe you don’t even actually have feelings for him anymore. It could purely be a deception of the closeness you’ve developed for each other that you mistaken for love. You had spent almost every single day of the past two and a half years together, under the same roof, sharing a bed towards the last few months. It’s the safety and intimacy that your brain associates him with that forbids you from moving on.

Maybe you’re actually over him romantically. But the wanting, the missing him as your best friend still lingers.

The door to your room opens abruptly. Hair damp, Taehyung strolls inside in a white bathrobe and slippers, his clothes bunched up under his arm. Tiny beads of moisture dot the sparse view of his chest you have.

“Oh, you’re here.” He says, his step faltering at your clearly unanticipated presence. Or perhaps the sight of you, staring out into the dark, completely alone in this room is just awfully strange. “I thought you’d be eating at this time.” Eyes dropping to the ground as the door shuts behind him, his movements are clearly timid and weary, an rare expression on Taehyung.

“Not that hungry.” You mutter. “How was…” You ask out of habit, but immediately catch yourself. Quick eye contact before you both look away like docile animals. It’s too late for you to take back the question now anyway. “How was the spa?” And to make it appear that you don’t really care and was just asking out of courtesy, you turn back around to face out to the patio.

Completely unnecessary and petty move, whatever.

Except you see his reflection on the glass from the illuminated room all too well. Visibly easing that you’ve looked away, he plops his clothes down at the end of the bed and trails into the bathroom to fetch a towel for his hair. “Was really nice, they give good massages. You should give it a go at some point.”

“Okay.” He gives his head a good shake before drying with the towel. It feels creepy that he doesn’t know you are watching his reflection, so your eyes drop to your feet. You wonder if his masseuse was female. Not that it matters at all.

“What time are we meant to meet them for stargazing again?” He is speaking a lot - well, relatively. It saddens you that his usual tone of endearment when he would speak to you is now missing. It’s like speaking to a stranger, but worse, a stranger who takes a stab at your heart after every word.

“At 9, so that’s in…” You raise your wrist to find your watch absent from where it usually sits on your wrist. Right, you had removed it before strawberry-picking so it doesn’t get dirty and left it on the coffee table. Just as you turn around to retrieve it, you are met with Taehyung slipping his robe off. Your eyes widen.

The fluffy material glides down his shoulders like he’s made of gold, revealing the sculpture of his upper body that you scarcely recognise because he never used to be this toned. You thank any higher power there is that he is wearing his boxers, but they do nothing to conceal the faintest V at his hips and the bulk of his thighs. He isn’t bursting with muscle, but body definitely more well-defined than you remember.

“Have you been working out?” It just slips out. You wish, as the heat floods to dizzy your mind, that you had the capability of holding your tongue for once in your life.

Taehyung hesitates, Adam’s apple bobbing at his jugular. That shy awkwardness returns when your eyes meet. “Yeah. I mean a little, here and there…” Self-consciously, he brings his arm across his chest to rub at his bicep, but the gesture only flexes the muscle he has gained.

Your knees feel slightly weak. It’s the lack of dinner, you tell yourself. It’s not just your knees that feel weak though, your heart is thumping haphazardly into arrhythmia.

“But you hate exercise.” The stability in your voice surprises you.

“Yeah I did, but Seojoon said it’d help me take my mind off… things.” Lip between his teeth, Taehyung searches around for a top. Sheepishness in the form of a soft pink tint on his round cheeks turns you soft.

‘Things’, meaning you.

When you realise you’ve been staring, you immediately look down, fingers fiddling with each other like you’re some virgin freshly exposed to the spectacle of the male body. You’re anything but yourself, and so is he. Taehyung exercising? You almost scoff.

“You don’t have to… You’ve seen me naked, you know.” Taehyung mumbles, finally locating the sweatshirt he intends to wear. When you hear him pull it over himself, you sag in relief, the immense weight that his starkness strangely bestowed on you finally alleviated.

“Yeah, but it’s different now.” Now that we’re not together anymore. Not that we were ever together.

You know he feels it too, the sting of those words. The hurt in his eyes fill you with a sort of bitter self-resentment that you cannot wrap your head around. Stop looking at me like that. Stop making me feel like a bitch. Just stop hurting me.

“Yeah, it is.” But for some reason, it stings even more when he says it. His agreement should be a triumph, yet it feels more like the acknowledgement of the broken bridges between you.

When it comes from your mouth, it’s you convincing yourself more than anything. When it comes from his, it sounds like the truth.

.

Of the many things that are slowly killing Taehyung this weekend, the painfully awkward silence is among the most unbearable. It’s the loud kind of silence that he hates where there is clearly so much to say to each other yet none of it is coming out. There’s a vast ocean between you, roaring waves engulfing any sort of message he wishes to communicate.

This has to be one of the strangest experiences of his life - being set up by your friend on a couple’s trip to a resort disguised as a strawberry farm for Valentine’s day with you - and he has experienced a lot of weird shit in his life.

To be honest, he hasn’t been doing so great the past few weeks.

All the anger and bitterness had taken two days to melt away into miserable wretchedness. Two days, that’s all it took for him to not be angry with you anymore because there was one person he was angrier at - himself.

Because Taehyung was quick to realise that losing you is miles, miles, worse than what you had done to him. It was a sudden sort of realisation, the kind that hits you in the middle of doing something. What had he done?

The way he yelled at you, the things he said. His chest always sinks at the rememberance.

You didn’t know it was Jimin, you truly didn’t. But he exploded on you nonetheless, impermeable to your explanation. That wasn’t him. That raging bellowing man wasn’t him. If only he had just calmed down and talked it through with you, maybe he wouldn’t have been sleeping alone in your bed that your scent still clung on to.

And when he thinks about how you had heard him with that girl from the club, the bar, wherever his inebriated state took him that he doesn’t even remember…

Taehyung regrets everything.

How you got to this point was so extremely stupid. He should have just confessed to you, simple and easy, no complications needed. You are a commitment-phobe, he always knew he’d have to be the one to say it first. So why didn’t he? What the fuck was holding him back?

All he had to say was to not go on that date with Junho. That’s all you wanted. Why why why didn’t he just say how he felt?

Taehyung never knew himself to be a crier before this. He had shed a tear or two when he found out about Ryujin’s cheating and his friends’ betrayal; that was a stab in the back that left him gutted from the inside. Yet still, he got by, he survived because he found you. And he had naively thought, I managed to bear through this so nothing can really be worse than this now can it?

It can, and it did.

Once it starts, it won’t stop. The tears. A great tempest swallowing him whole and dragging him under until all he could hear was his own pounding heart. It is always before bed, when he would have the time to himself to truly think and reflect. But sometimes it comes during the day as well. He will be doing something as mundane as washing his hair in the shower, and he would suddenly break down because you had left him your shampoo that you would always get annoyed at him for using.

The house just feels empty. The absence of your voice, your warmth, your lips pressed on his neck every morning before his eyes even fully opened. Gone.

Yet, every corner is etched with the memories you share, your ghost lingering by the sofa that you adore whenever he’s watching TV, or curled up beside him every night in bed. It’s impossible to forget you.

Even as Seojoon moved in to fill your vacated room and help with the rent, the place was cold. It will never be the same because nothing could ever replace you. Everything he had and cherished - swept away just like that by none other than his own mistakes.

Yes, you had hurt him a lot. At the time, that pain felt insurmountable, like the worst thing you could ever do to him. But ultimately, upon the endless nights of thinking, he has realised that what hurt him the most was not you, but losing you. Not Jimin, not Junho, but how what could have been between you two fell apart so quickly by the poor choices you both made.

“Now if you look up to your left, you might be able to see one of our February constellations, the Pictor.” Jae announces, voice full of an enthusiasm that Taehyung could only envy as he guides the tour group towards the centre of a large plain field behind the hotel where you will all be stargazing. It is a lovely, breezy, cloudless night. You are several paces ahead of Taehyung, keenly reading the constellation manual leaflet lit up by your phone; he knows just how much of an astronomy geek you are. “It consists of four stars, as shown on your Star Guide, that are actually very dim and usually not easily spotted. The name Pictor means the Painter’s easel.”

Taehyung stops. Despite the darkness, he sees your shoulders tense too.

The easel you had gifted him on his birthday sits in his closet, stowed away from being a constant reminder of how much you loved him and how much he should have held on. It just sits there, collecting dust, untouched since the day you left.

The halt in Jae’s walking indicates your arrival to the intended location. “Here we are. Let’s settle down, love birds. I’ll set up this gorgeous telescope for anyone who wants to explore the sky in greater focus which I highly recommend.”

Spreading across the field, the group unrolls the picnic blankets you’ve all been given, dropping down to rest atop the covered grass.

No time is wasted from everyone else to snuggle up to their boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, wives. The atmosphere is sickly, even for Taehyung. The couples around him have done little to hide their affection for each other since the beginning of the trip. It is a romantic vacation after all, but is it really so necessary to display your love so publicly?

You stand static and poker-faced on the other side of the mat, clear signs of reluctance to participate plastered all over you.

Taehyung has never stargazed before, let alone in this context. The stiffness in your movement as you sink down onto your knees and lie down in discomfort makes him wince. He realises now that neither of you have a choice but to put away any ill feelings and lay beside each other.

As he gets down next to you, his head nearly tumbles out his chest at the sudden proximity that he has grown so unused to. In the dark, your scent washes up to him like a timid tide lapping at the shore, hair swaying off your shoulders as you get onto your back. The size of the mat does not permit him elsewhere other than immediately beside you, no more than five inches from touching shoulders. Five inches from touching.

Truthbetold, Taehyung feels himself going insane. It started from the moment he saw you on the bus, your wide eyes, parted lips, so pretty despite the look of terror you wore. He didn’t think he would have the chance to see you any time soon. He hadn’t truly comprehended the magnitude at which he missed you until he saw you again.

And he has been spiralling since. Every gesture making his senses scream in agony, the desire to just talk to you mangling at him. He misses you like crazy. Not necessarily in that way, but just your presence, your funny comments, your feign annoyance when he annoys you. He misses the companionship.

You are both on your back now, the blanket feeling either slightly damp or too cold for comfort. The star-speckled sky hanging above you both is endless, a panoramic painting from east to west. You stare at the sky like it’s your lover, so Taehyung does the same. Astronomy doesn’t interest him as much as the meaning and purpose behind the act of stargazing. The people he’s with and the memories he makes.

Wordless, you stare at the sky, ignorant to his presence. The soft hum of everyone else’s whispers accentuates that frustrating silence between you. Taehyung is so fucking tired of the silence because he’s bursting with things to say to you, to ask you.

“Are we just not going to speak?”

His question startles you for you almost, almost, turn to look at him. The slight angling of your head before you catch yourself does not go unmissed by him.

“What do you want to speak about?” Taehyung hates the coldness in your voice. The unfeeling sounds so real. Why are you being this way? Do you seriously want nothing to do with him? That possibility scares him above all else.

Someone giggles a few yards from you two. On this large grassland, the couples are dispersed in their own little bubble of sweet affection, but not enough for his ears to not pick up these little sounds that send courses of envy through his vessel.

“What do you think?” The four weeks you spent apart were four weeks of lamenting over all the things he should have said, and all that he shouldn’t. And Taehyung’s is done with regretting unspoken words. He just wants to get everything out in the open, out of his system, so he can move on.

“I mean-”

“Look, Y/N. This is stupid, the whole ignoring each other thing. Don’t you just want to say your piece and get that weight off your chest?” In the distance, crickets chirp faintly. The discomfort shuddering in the five-inch area between your shoulders is screaming volumes. Taehyung doesn’t turn away from the sky for the fear of the expression he would see you wear.

He expects a note of irritation in your voice, for you to start arguing with him which he truthfully doesn’t mind because that is at least progress. But instead he gets a quiet defeat. “I don’t want to reopen wounds that are already ripping open, Taehyung.”

It wrenches his soul, truly. He doesn’t recognise you when you speak anymore, both with the things you say, and the way you say it. “Talking will help it heal.” Because that’s both your final goals here - to heal, to be cured of the ailment that is heartbreak.

“How exactly is it going to change anything?”

“I don’t know. We’ve had time to calm down and think and I think we should have some closure so we end on a good note.”

It’s funny now, how Taehyung is the one pleading to speak to you when he should be the one who’s angry at you because you were the one to commit the last and biggest fault. He doesn’t see it like that though, that’s all in the past. To be friends with you again, that’s all he wishes for, he doesn’t care about anything else at this point.

“So this is about amicability to you? You want to end on good terms.” Neither of you still dare to look at the other, eyes locked on the stars but somewhere distant.

“Well, yeah. Do you not?” He asks. He hadn’t expected you to be this uneasy, he thought you would have liked the idea of peace amongst you. “Everything towards the end happened so quickly, wouldn’t you like some closure?

“I would rather take my time and heal in my own way. To be honest, I don’t have anything to say to you about that topic except that I’m sorry, but I’m sure you’re sick of hearing that. It’s pointless.”

You’re coping with this differently, Taehyung understands. But it doesn’t take much effort to be pleasant towards each other, to smile and greet each other like normal people instead of scrambling away from every eye contact. How do you suppose you’d be able to move on like that?

“So not even friends right now?” He tries one last time. A soft breeze washes over you, wafting your scent towards him.

“No, I don’t want to be friends right now.”

Your bluntness stings. Taehyung finally gives in and turns to face you. Your striking profile greets him, your eyes still stubbornly glued to the sky. Your unwillingness to budge or compromise even a little bit is frustrating.

“We were best friends for the past two and a half years. More than best friends, we were literally two peas in a pod; we lived together, ate together, studied together, slept together. And now we don’t even talk. You’re okay with losing that? You’re telling me that I’m the only one who misses it more than anything else?” His angry whisper sounds ridiculous as he tries to keep his volume down, conscious of the setting he’s in.

But then he sees you blink, hard. Then blink again. Your pursed lip trembles. Another two consecutive blinks. When you look at him, your eyes are so glassy that they reflect the entirety of the galaxy above. “How am I supposed to be your friend right now when I can’t even look at you without feeling this great pang of sadness every time?” Taehyung immediately wishes he hadn’t pushed you.

“I… just would rather have you in my life as a friend than not have you at all.” His voice softens to a tone more apologetic. He is the reason for the tears you’re holding back right now and he despises it.

“I would rather not have you in my life at all while I slowly get over you than have you as just a friend because my heart can’t take this constant torture. I just want to be over you but I can’t do that if I have to pretend to be okay around you. And I just don’t get it Taehyung. How are you so willing to be friends again? After what I did, how could you look at me and not hate me?”

Taehyung frowns at you because he doesn’t see how you can’t understand it’s not about that anymore. It’s not about the blame, the who did what to who. He doesn’t care anymore but the fact that you do is alarming. You still can’t let it go.

“Okay, so is this about you not forgiving yourself?” He prods, and watches the brief flash of confusion on your face.

“I-” You’re quick to dispute but stop. Because it’s the truth.

A long silence ensures. You stare at the collar of his sweatshirt, zoned out. Taehyung knows you’re in deep contemplation, you know his points have strong grounds. There is no reason for hostility or callousness between you because it would only hurt each other more.

“Look,” He takes a deep breath. “I just think that it’s unhealthy for you to act like this. You’re burying and burying what you’re feeling without actually facing it. Trying to be friends is a good first step in accepting that we’re not together anymore; being cold to each other isn’t. Think about it.”

Another long pause. He watches you blink, watches your chest rise and fall at every breath.

“I understand your point, I know my coping mechanism isn’t healthy but it’s all that I know right now. We’re different, we’re hurting differently and healing differently. I’m sorry for acting out on you when it’s myself who I want to punish. But I seriously don’t have the strength to be your friend right now, I wish I did but I really don’t. Just give me time.” The fact that you’re not arguing with him says a lot; you have both matured from this experience. It’s sad that this is what it took for you to do so.

“Okay. I respect that.” Taehyung says. “I’m sorry for pushing this onto you, it’s selfish of me, sorry. I just… I don’t know, I guess I’m pathetic. You were my best friend and I want to salvage it as much as I can. I just miss you, that’s all.”

You don’t say anything, but Taehyung is okay with that. Because he knows you miss him too, you miss the friendship, the having each other to lean on.

The difference between you and him is that you can’t compartmentalise your lingering feelings for him and put that aside right now, whereas he can. You need to rid those feelings before you can be his friend, and he’s okay with that.

He stares at Pictor, it’s four weak stars that dim beside much brighter constellations yet somehow call to him. And he almost smiles.

.

You stare at your own reflection in the mirror.

That conversation with Taehyung resonates with you more than you’d care to let on. You let every single word he said sink in, your inner turmoil contemplating the points he made. Because he definitely has a point.

What resonates with you most is the word closure.

He’s right, everything between you ended so quickly that there was no time to process and accept it until it was already over. Maybe that’s why you’re finding it so hard to let go. If you were to be friends again, you could at least normalise his presence and gradually move past this.

Twisting the faucet on, you splash some water on your face to clear this dilemma from your head. And after wiping yourself dry, you exit the bathroom into your room with a great sigh.

Taehyung is wearing the grey hoodie - that’s the first thing you notice. As in the grey hoodie you would always claim as your own because of how soft its material is. The grey hoodie that you regret giving back to him. The grey hoodie that he would always wear when you guys gamed at midnight and it would always end with you on his lap, his locks tangled in your fingers while his mouth explored yours.

You take it back, fuck being friends, you’re back to square one.

He glances up in the dark, eyes surveying your silhouette from head to toe as he places a pillow on one end of the couch. Ever since that conversation, there’s the most subtle difference in his permanent expression - his lips look inclined to smile, his eyes hold an understanding for you that makes you feel vulnerable.

And, god, it makes you want to try. He deserves it, to have his best friend back in his life even if that best friend is you, the person he trusted the most in the world only to turn around and impale him in the chest with those stupid decisions of yours.

The omnipresence of your awkwardness hasn’t faltered though. “Taehyung, I said I would take the couch.” You protest, though you’re starting to see that it’s futile. You may be the more stubborn one between the pair, but there are certain things that Taehyung would never back down from.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, Y/N.” The corner of his lip turns up properly now, like he’s silently snickering at a joke he thought of. “That’s just - not gonna happen.”

“What’s so funny?” Switching the bathroom lights off behind you, you ask. You hadn’t packed well for this trip, you are only in a flimsy camisole and a pair of sweats, the cold air coaxes goosebumps on your skin. His gaze follows you as you draw the curtains shut over the glass wall, leaving only a strip of moonlight streaming in.

“Nothing.” Taehyung places both hands on the top of his head, an action that causes his hoodie to slightly ride up his torso. You fix your eyes on the floor as you approach him and the sofa. “It’s just funny how you think I’d ever let you sleep on the couch while I sleep on the bed.”

There is a dead end down this path you’re going, neither of you would let the other win. So you simply ignore him and situate yourself on the couch, stretching your legs to span it wholly. “Good night.” Fixing the pillow he had placed, you shut your eyes.

“What, no.” You can hear the smile wipe off his face, almost making you chuckle out loud. “Y/N, get up.” Hastily he hovers over you. But when you show no sign of acknowledgement, he shuffles away. A moment later, you feel a great gust of air, then the softest silkiest duvet landing over you.

Your eyes fly open. And there Taehyung stands with his arms crossed smugly. “If you take the couch, you also take the covers.”

“No! You’ll be cold.”

“You’ll be cold. You’re not wearing enough.”

You give up. “Oh, for god’s sake, Taehyung. Fine. Let’s both sleep on the bed, okay?” His entire expression dilates. He doesn’t even blink as you get off the couch and cross your arms back at him. “Problem solved.”

Taking his wrist in one hand, dragging the plush duvet in the other, you walk to the bed and sit him down. No noise of protest emits from him, so you go back to retrieve the pillow from the couch in a huff.

“Are you sure?” His voice is suddenly timid, unsure. And he’s right to be so, because you’re quaking on the inside as well at the prospect of sleeping beside him.

It’s not going to be good for your heart, you know that definitely. But like he said, you need to face this. If you touch a paper cut enough times, it stops hurting. “It’s just sleeping, it’s no big deal.” You lie. “You want to be friends right? Well let’s start with this. Let’s stop being stupid and childish.” You can’t look him in the eye as you rearrange the bedding back to its original state before Taehyung messed it up.

His reply merely a quiet yeah… before you both hesitantly crawl under the covers and tuck in. Heat flushes to your face as you do so because the action feels so familiar, yet everything about it is different.

Absolute silence. Backs facing each other. An arm's length or two between you but it feels like more. You don’t even shut your eyes because why pretend that you’ll fall asleep?

Your own palpitation is so vigorous that it’s audible. The thoughts whizzing around in your head are unstoppable, a persistent prodding at your skull. His scent is strong, that sweet honey musk that used to seduce you to sleep now the very thing that’s keeping you up.

It must be, what, ten? twenty minutes? of just laying there as you ponder your future with Taehyung, if you want a future at all. He’s right, you miss his friendship above all else. As much as you love Lotta, there is an intangible quality missing between you, that extra spark that existed between Taehyung which boosted your dynamic up to an incomparable level. You understood each other without having to speak, care about each other more than yourselves - that love was almost familial. Losing that has been too much.

Then you hear Taehyung shift onto his back. “Y/N?” Your heart skips a beat.

“Yeah?” You answer after a pause, mind racing through all the possibilities of what he could say. You hate this permanent uncertainty of what he’s thinking.

Silence follows for a short while, the endless possibility of what he’s going to say flooding your mind. Then, “You know how I can’t sleep without holding something?”

You stop breathing.

Because you see very clearly where this is going, and it’s down a road that you don’t know if you can withstand.

He can’t sleep without holding you. Holding you.

You take a deep breath and clamp down on your lip, grateful that your back is facing him so he can’t see the pathetic weakness on your face. Can you do this?

Can you do this without wanting to cry? Can you do this without succumbing to your momentary desire to just turn around and kiss him because you won’t be able to think straight with his arms around you? You’re really not sure.

“Yes…?”

“Can I…” Something rustles the covers, perhaps his arm, or maybe he’s inching closer. In the pitch black night, every movement feels amplified, more impactful. “You know…”

“Can you what?” You’re not being difficult, you’re giving him the chance to take back on this request. To just say nevermind and turn back around. Because you’re not equipped for his touch; you don’t want it, you don’t want the pain that comes with it.

Another pause. Take the chance, please. But his deep hesitant voice sounds in the dark, “Can I hold you please?”

You shut your eyes. That feeling in your nose again, that rush. Hold it in, don’t cry, stupid emotional bitch, don’t cry. What’s there to cry about? You wonder if this torment will end, and you wonder if you could ever stop feeling this much for him.

“I swear I’m not trying anything, I genuinely can’t sleep.” His voice has a way of penetrating deep into your bones, begging you even if it’s not his intention to.

You could say no, right? Just say no.

But that isn’t facing it, that isn’t overcoming your heartbreak. If your goal of this trip is to come out of this weekend completely devoid of feelings for him, then you need to let him stop affecting you.

“Okay. Please don’t make it weird.” You whisper, not daring to move a muscle.

Taehyung sags in relief, the bed dipping with his weight. “I won’t, I promise.” The sound of him shuffling closer to you constricts your throat. You close your eyes, awaiting the warmth of his front to meet your back, counting down in your head for that dreaded moment to come. “Come closer.” He murmurs.

When his hand fits around your waist, you know it’s an act of unconscious habit rather than intent. Slowly, he drags you into the enclosure of his chest, his scent and heat enshrouding you until you are completely engulfed by him.

He exhales, the fingertips of his breath caressing your hair ever so gently.

Every fibre in your body is tensing, eyes firmly shut and toes curled inwards. His hand feels enormous on your waist, holding you the only way he has ever known how to. With a unique type of affection that is so pure and devoted, yet also with a hint of protectiveness and possession.

Taehyung lets go of your waist only to encircle his arms around you entirely, his legs curling up under yours until you’re both cocooned together.

“You okay?” The back of your neck feels tender, sensual even, from the tickling heat of his breath. You’re too keenly aware of how close your heads are positioned, of the searing sensations that his hands are causing.

No, you’re not okay. Your skin has been lit on fire. Memories that you’ve long since tried to bury are surging back at full force, slamming into you one after the other. He’s too close, he’s everywhere. There is no distance separating you right now, yet you still feel miles away from him; you can’t comprehend his intentions nor decipher his thoughts. The fit of the crook of your back into his chest is perfect, a heartbreaking kind of perfect. This feels so so familiar. This is exactly what you had yearned and dreamt for every night for the past month - to be in his arms again. So why does it hurt even more than being alone?

Instead, you nod, “Mmm, yeah.”

A compulsion is yanking at you to lean back into him.

Taehyung exhales again and rests his cheek on the back of your shoulder where he always used to perch. If you were naked right now, he would be speckling this shoulder with soft dainty petal kisses. You hate that there is still a part of you, and mind you a very significant part, that wants it.

Your hands are inches away from touching each other; just one lift of your wrist and your fingers can clasp. The urge indunates you.

It would be so easy right now to just succumb - let your hand crawl into his because you know he would hold it, turn around and start kissing up his jaw until your tongues are tangled. You think it’s purely physical, these impulses, at least that’s what you want them to be. You just miss the intimacy, that’s all. But then why does it feel like you’ve swallowed a kaleidoscope of butterflies? Except their wings are made of glass, and everytime they flutter, you feel the shards scratch along your insides. There is desire laced in the pain. You don’t know which one is worse.

What baffles you the most is how he is alright with this, how he initiated this. He said he wants to at least be your friend, but this surely feels like a breach of friendship to anyone. Holding each other in bed is not being friends. But then again, you both have always had a warped perception of what friends should be doing.

You don’t understand how it’s so different for him. How the areas where you are touching, even if separated by layers of clothes, doesn’t tear through his sanity. If he doesn’t feel the same crack in his heart, then what does he feel?

With every heavy breath he takes, you take a silent one, eyes shut and praying to be swept away by the sleep that you don’t believe will reach you. You haven’t slept well since that night. Taehyung, on the other hand, you know is instantly sound asleep. It never used to take him more than five minutes as long as you were in his clutch.

But then, maybe there is a soothing essence in his presence with his overwhelming pleasant scent and rhythmic breathing, or maybe you’ve just exhausted your body with constant overthinking, a hazy fog drifts over your consciousness. You’re so tired, physically and mentally drained... And Taehyung feels so warm and snug around you...

The last thought you have before you drift off into reverie is that you feel his fingers slide between yours, holding not firmly but with intent. And you don’t know if it was you or him who moved it so.

You wake up from the damp heat gathered in all your crevices, the thin coat of sweat mildly irritating your skin. You are facing the glass door to the patio, and though the curtains conceal much of the windows, strips of sunlight topple past the cracks and unfurl into your room.

Taehyung’s arm is around you. Still.

After these years of living together, you know everything about Taehyung like that back of your hand. You can tell whether he’s awake or not from his breathing. And he’s most definitely asleep, though only lightly.

You look down and examine your position. In the course of the night, his forearm has travelled progressively higher until it is just about cradling your breasts. One of his legs is thrown over yours, entrapping you in his embrace. In his tangle of limbs, you slowly try to twist onto your back while prying him off.

He stirs, pulls you in tighter.

Which lands your rear in the unfortunate position of right atop his crotch. His crotch that is very much awake and way too excited.

Lethargy immediately expelled, your eyes open wide.

Morning wood is a usual occurrence for Taehyung, especially after a night of merciless teasing, but randomly a lot of the times. You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are, nor aroused. He has mentioned before how uncomfortable it can be, a blaring hard presence, a sore tension waking him up in an unforgiving manner. Which means that he can precariously wake any second n-

“Mmmm.” Voice an octave deeper than its norm, he hums, announcing his returning consciousness.

Taehyung’s morning wood and morning voice. You are being tested right now.

Your concupiscence has been gradually building up in the last few weeks from the lack of any sexual activity save for your own fingers and toys. It’s human nature, and completely goes against your will - but you feel the old friend that goes by the name lust stirring at the pit of your stomach.

At your proximity, the tip of his member digs deep between your cheeks, prodding at your entrance incontestably. Your whole body stiffens as the slowly waking Taehyung nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck habitually, arm tensing around you. Ever so slowly, you look back to steal a glance. His wildly curly hair falls over his forehead gracefully, lashes fanned out from his closed lids. He’s too beautiful for his own good.

Your core dampens and you quickly turn back around.

Fuck, please, no. You can’t be thinking about him like that. It’s so wrong. But his erection burrowed between your ass is banishing any clarity or sense from your head.

But God, you fucking miss this.

You’re going mad from deprivation. The dry spell of the past month had been voluntary, on the basis that you knew it wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism because you would only picture Taehyung over the faces of those nameless men. And because you knew no one knows you as well as he does, thus no one will succeed in satisfying you as well as him. Your sex drive was non-existent right after the break-up; sex simply didn’t cross your mind once while you were nursing your broken heart. And then it came ebbing back, though faintly and infrequently, you regained your libido and would find yourself fantasising on some lonesome nights.

But now, the situation at hand is that: you’ve allowed Taehyung to cuddle you in his sleep and you’ve consequently woken up to his undeniably hard cock poking between your legs. And he is seconds away from fully waking up as well.

So what now?

“Taehyung.” You say firmly, pushing his arm away from your breasts. It’s best if you call him out for it now rather than let it hang awkwardly in the air unsaid.

“Hmmmm..?” He rumbles sleepily. You don’t have to turn around to be able to envision his face, eyes slowly blinking open but reluctant as ever, true to his deep sleeper title.

“Taehyung.” This time you nudge back gently for emphasis. What it achieves is additional friction. Your whole lower half achse to grind back onto him, to slide over his hardened cock, to reach back and pump it in your hands.

Fuck.

You can’t.

You could, so easily, but you shouldn’t. You and Taehyung are completely over in every sense of your relationship. You can’t let this moment of weakness strip away all your efforts in moving on.

“Wha…” He mumbles, finally peeling his arm off you to stretch out. A loud yawn ensues. You take the opportunity of his loosened hold around you to twist back and pin him with a glare, hoping that your thirst is masked.

“You’re hard.”

Eyes still puffy, he stops mid-stretch at those two words. And looks down.

Did he… not notice? Or did he, in his morning hazy, momentarily get the situation confused and forget that you weren’t together?

Taehyung scrambles away from you so abruptly that he almost falls off the bed. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t- It just- I can’t control it, Y/N, you know I can’t.” His stammering is followed by his jerky movements to readjust his bulge as discreetly as one can allow in such situation. The detonation of terror on his face exacerbates your embarrassment. Because you simply don’t know what to do with yourself - with your core tingling in arousal simultaneously as your brow twitches in annoyance. When your vexed eyes meet his, you see another wave of panic crash onto him.

How did you get in this situation in the first place? If only you had just slept on the couch last night…

“Yeah, I know, stop reacting like that. Don’t make it weirder than it already is.” You berate, yanking the covers with all your strength over your shoulder and roll away from him. The distance is more for your own good. You can’t be near him right now, you can’t think about his fucking cock slipping into you.

You want to fuck. You want to fuck Taehy-

Stop that fucking thought.

“I’m sorry.” His morning voice, oh god. Burying your face into the pillow does little against the fluid pooling in your panties.

“Can you go to the toilet and… fix yourself.” When the words leave your mouth, the imagery of him fixing himself flashes before your eyes. And something pulses violently down there. Fucking fuck.

“Um, okay, sorry.” You try to not peek at him as he gets up from the bed, slightly limping as he makes his way to the toilet. But you succumb nonetheless.

His cheeks are scarlet, veins bulging on the side of his forehead, and you’re not sure if it’s from his embarrassment or the discomfort of the boner. Your eyes drop from his profile because his morning face has always been one of your weaknesses, except unfortunately for you, your eyes land on his bulge.

Another pulse down there.

You hate yourself. You feel dirty for even thinking about him like that because it’s so wrong. But then again, he’s probably thinking about you like that as well, hence the raging erection.

When the bathroom door shuts behind him, you let out a sigh. You don’t know how long you can keep hold of your sanity for like this. You’re swimming in a sea of confusing emotions: the constant melancholy you have of missing him and missing the way things were before you had fucked it up; the desperation to move on and understand that he was only a chapter of your life that is now closed; the bitter resentment that you have for yourself as a consequence of not being able to do so; and now the inescapable desire aching between your thighs because of how inherent these memories are of how he would fuck you until you cry like nobody else could.

What doesn’t help is the hint of a slow pumping rhythm from the toilet, and Taehyung’s ragged breathing.

Fuck.

You don’t want to think about how he’s jerking off on the other side of the wall right now, gripping his cock as he leans against the sink, head thrown back. But that’s exactly what you’re thinking about.

Is he thinking of you as he’s doing it? You’re not sure if you want him to, because while you wish he wouldn’t, you also hope that this lust you feel is reciprocated still, that you’re not the only one going crazy with arousal.

Your hand almost trails down to your core when his pace quickens, but his sharp inhale strikes at your inner righteousness. You stop, sit up and rush out to the patio for some fresh air.

Happy Valentine’s Sunday indeed.

.

The dough feels sticky in your hand despite the layers of flour you’ve doused your fingertips in. Baking has never been your forte, you simply don’t have the patience or precision for such a crafty hobby. You glance over to check on Taehyung’s progress at the other half of the counter.

He has the easy job. Of course, when it came to allocating roles between the pair of you in this baking session, the jam-making landed on him because there’s no way he would succeed in making the strawberry tart.

You can’t help but smile at the way his lips are puckered and brows drawn in concentration as he chops the berries as finely as he could. But the way the top half of his hair is pulled back into a little sprout of a ponytail… You gulp.

Neither of you have spoken a word of this morning’s awkward event; it had been a tacit agreement not to as soon as you made eye contact when he stepped out of the bathroom. It has set a lewd tone for the rest of your day. At every blank moment where your mind isn’t preoccupied, especially when you’re doing something as frivolous and kneading dough, your thoughts would wander to the memories of his warm rigid-

You stop yourself. You’re in public and he’s chopping strawberries right next to you.

You’ve noticed how, every time you’d have those sinful thoughts, your mood would lighten a little. The pang in your heart that used to always plague you would profoundly diminish. Of all things, of course sex is what eases your sadness the most, that’s just so characterisitic of you isn’t it?

“Is everything going well?” One of the baking assistants comes over to your counter for the seventh time now (yes you’re counting). She is a petite, rather pretty, pleasant looking girl. And you have not failed to notice how every time she checks up on you two, her attention is always solely on Taehyung. Here you are struggling with your asscheek of dough yet she only cares to ask how Taehyung, the strawberry chopper, fares?

“Yup.” Taehyung spares her a brief glance before dumping the diced pieces of fruit into the saucepan.

“Would you like some more flour?” You almost scoff out loud. You’re the one working with flour over here! Why is she asking him?

“No, thanks.” He doesn’t look up this time.

The assistant smiles to herself as if he’d said something particularly sweet to her. Until her eyes land on you. “Uh- What about you, ma’am?”

“All.” You land a punch on the buttery dough, death glare and all. “Good.” Another punch. Eyes not once wavering. She has the brains to scramble away.

You don’t have the right to assert this sort of possessiveness over Taehyung. But it’s the principle. This is a couple’s romantic holiday; she must be under the presumption that you and Taehyung are together, so how does she still dare to ogle over him like that?

“She’s flirting with you.” You rumble when she’s out of earshot.

Taehyung looks up at you from stirring his jam mixture, his lips still slightly pouted from his focus. “What? Who?”

“That baking assistant who came over just now.” You grit, trying to suppress this irrational vexation.

“Oh. Really?” Clueless, he scans across the room. “Was that the blonde or the brunette one?”

It’s a relief how truly oblivious he is that you don’t bother answering his question. It’s also completely unlike him. Since when did Kim Taehyung not notice when a girl takes interest in him? How fascinating must those strawberries be to capture his undivided attention like that?

“Would you like some flour?” You mimic, batting your lashes at him.

A wide grin spreads across his cheeks. To be honest, you don’t know what prompted you to display such friendliness to him all of a sudden. Perhaps what happened this morning, or even the fact that you slept on the same bed last night, breached one of the walls towering between you. It’s progress.

“You’ve got flour on your face.”

Fuck, again? You need to stop handling stuff like dirt and flour because they keep ending up on your face. “Ugh.” You huff, trying to let the embarrassment brush off. “Where?”

From the mischievous smirk that his grin morphed into, you should’ve known. Before you could suspect, Taehyung dabs one of his fingers into a small pile of flour and smears it down your cheek. “There.”

“You-!” You gasp, your own finger already caked in flour flying for a counter attack at his face.

But his reflexes are fast as he catches your wrist in lightning speed and tugs you towards him, his other hand simultaneously slathering another streak of white down the bridge of your nose. You tumble into him, foolish grin on your face as you twist your wrist out of his grip and manage to smear your floury thumb onto his chin.

Taehyung catches you before you could trip over your feet, smiling so wide for the first time this weekend that you can’t help but giggle. His grip on your waist feels warm. You’re close enough that you have to crane your neck to see him, close enough to see the individual hairs of his brows.

Yes, something has definitely shifted since last night.

The desire is a flame, devouring all your other senses until all you can focus on is his touch, his molten chocolate eyes, his tongue swiping out to wet his lips. You just want to…

Kiss him.

You admit it, you want to kiss him so fucking badly.

Ignition in his eyes, he stares at your lips too, smile slowly faltering. The hammering of your spastic heart cancels out all other noise in the room; you don’t see anything else except him. He doesn’t move, and neither do you. That lustful monster in your mind screams, Damn the consequences. Just kiss. Fuck being friends and fuck being strangers. Kiss him.

“Alright, lovebirds over there. These pastries won’t make themselves. Let’s get cracking!” Both of you jump and the sound of the head chef calling.

A bucket of ice cold water showers over you, extinguishing that prosperous flame. And reality materialises once again around you.

Not just the physical reality, but the reality of your situation as well - you can’t, you shouldn’t be acting like this around each other. There’s being friends, and then there’s this. The line is fine, it has always been.

It’s difficult to separate the weeds of these conglomerated emotions. You miss each other, want to kiss each other. You want the hurting to end, he wants to be friends. Your break up had been too messy for either of you to have a clear vision of what you need to do to overcome this.

Except maybe there is a cure-all solution to this.

You return to your ball of dough as Taehyung goes back to stirring his boiling jam. Yet your attention is now scattered, because a seed of an idea, most probably a very bad one, has been sown in your head.

.

It is most definitely a reckless idea, one that has the potential of going very south.

You bring it up during dinner, the supposed “romantic candlelit dinner with a string quartet” which neither of you are remotely dressed well enough for. “Taehyung, you know how you talked about closure and all that yesterday?”

Taehyung pauses, forkful of tenderloin steak stopped in midair. “Yeah..?” The hope in his voice is infused with an uncertain hesitation.

“I think we should have sex. One last time. For closure.”

The violin strikes a particularly high pitch in the background. Taehyung doesn’t move a hair for at least a good ten seconds before he blinks at you. This was definitely not what he’d anticipated from you, you can tell. But well, of course it isn’t. The idea surprised yourself.

“What? I think I heard something else, say that again?”

Oh boy. “No, you heard it right. I said I think we should sleep together for closure.” You sound unsteady to your own ears. “Release all this pent up sexual frustration we have for each other one last time and then be done with this. You said you want to be friends, right? I actually think it’s going to work for me, I’ll be able to move on afterwards, I’m almost certain.”

Frowning, Taehyung puts his fork down. “Really…? You want to have sex?”

“Yes.” You’re not even going to be shy about it at this point. You weren’t sure how this scene was going to play out but you’d envisioned it to go much smoother than this. “Do you want to?”

“I mean…” Colour of wine stains his cheeks. “Yeah… But are you sure? You were just saying last night how you can’t look at me without hurting. Do you understand why this is confusing for me?”

“I know it sounds contradictory and counterproductive, but-” You halt when you realise that there is no but. You don’t know how to verbalise the explanation that convinced you in your head. “Look at it as break up sex. It’s a common thing because it works. Like you said, we ended so quickly, in a blink of an eye. Just see this as the closing chapter of our relationship. If you don’t want to do it, just say it. I just had to throw it out there.”

Worry drips down your throat when his blank expression remains unchanged - worry that you’ve made a fatally wrong move to make things irreparably awkward now, if he so wishes not to follow through with your suggestion.

But then he nods, ponderously and maybe not entirely convinced, but you’ll take it. “I think you have a point… The thing about closure and ending this better than we did the first time round.”

“So… You’re down.”

“Down.”

So, the rest of dinner flies by with the two of you wolfing down your meal as hastily as you can. The entire time, your mind is buzzing with a strange sort of excitement for you are confident that this is necessary in accelerating your process of recovery.

You and Taehyung started with sex, so naturally, you should end with sex.

If you are eating cookies from a jar and that jar is suddenly taken away from you, you would be overcome with a surge of anger and unjust. You will always remember that awful person who took it from you. But if you are told that the jar will be taken away and the cookie in your hand is the last one you can ever have, you will cherish this last cookie and take your time eating it. It would taste different from all the other cookies you’ve had in the past - better, sweeter, because you know that it’s the last one.

Taehyung is quiet, indecipherable as you stroll back to the room. You understand his doubt, you really do. Because a night ago, if he’d have offered you the same suggestion, you would’ve thought he’s insane. But after the incident this morning, and the sparse flirtation throughout the day, there is a clear indication of unresolved sexual tension on both ends.

End this once and for all with a bang.

“Are you really up for it, Taehyung?” You check one last time, swiping the keycard at the door. “If you’re not comfortable, then we shouldn’t.”

When you look back as you push open the door, you catch his eyes, filled with purpose and trust. “No, you’re right. We need the closure.”

As the door closes behind you after you enter, it feels final - your fate is sealed, this is happening. You both stop in the middle of the room, facing each other. Shoulders tense and fists clenched. The bed has been made from this morning, a strawberry gift basket sitting on the coffee table in the corner of your eye.

Your breath feels shaky.

“So…”

“So…”

His throat is trembling too.

You break into a smile at how pathetic you’ve both become around each other, and once you do, Taehyung observably loosens up. “What are we being so nervous for?”

He smiles too, and takes a step towards you. “I don’t know.”

Bittersweet. It’s the best way to describe how you feel right now. Because this is it.

“Do you want to get in the hot tub? It feels like a waste if we don’t use it before we go. It’s our last night here.” The buzzing beneath your skin grows as you ask, and a spark lights up in his eyes at your idea.

“Say no more.” He presses a kiss on your forehead. It’s utterly out of the blue and fleeting, but enough to make your heart leap, both from the bewilderment and the knowledge that this will be one of your last acts of affection.

Taehyung walks past you towards the glass door, peeling off his shirt in the meantime to reveal the new tone of muscle on his back that he’s acquired in the past month. “I’m going to get some alcohol.” You maunder.

Your fingers are shaking as you rummage through the wine cooled for the drink you best see suitable. A strawberry champagne catches your eye. How fitting.

You can’t explain how jittery you feel as you completely strip off your clothes. This is the last time with Taehyung. The profound significance, the pressure, the emotions, tide after tide hitting you.

Two glasses of champagne in your hand, you inhale sharply, and let it all out.

This is it. This is the conclusive ending you asked for.

Warm water bubbling up to his chest, you find him seated in the hot tub awaiting you. The boxers discarded by the side implies that it was a last minute decision of his to go completely naked. And when he notices your nude form strutting out to the patio to join him, he sucks in. The way his eyes rake down your body then back up to your face sends flutters to you core, but also a nostalgic pang.

Eye contact does not break for a second as you climb into the hot tub and sit yourself adjacent to him. The chilly evening breeze with the heated effervescing water provides the perfect ambient temperature. Taehyung accepts the champagne you hand him, finger brushing over yours in a way that could only be intentional. He’s savouring every touch.

“To Mykonos, to the heatwave, to us and our last time.” You toast. The lump in your throat almost doesn’t permit the words to be said.

“To Mykonos, to the heatwave, to us and our last time.” He repeats after you. Clink. And down the drink goes.

A sigh, from both of you. The champagne is bittersweet, too. And you feel that surge behind your nose again, the sting behind your eyes.

“Isn’t it funny how the universe plays out?” Taehyung says, gaze falling to your lips, then your neck, then collar. He slides closer to you. “The first time we kissed was in water, the Mediterranean Sea. And now, the last time will be in water too.”

You don’t say anything for you need a moment to collect the tears. Then you place your glass on the edge of the tub and waddle through the water until you are perched on his lap. He receives you like you’re made of glass, gentle hands coming around your bare back to pull you down onto him. You brush away his dark untamed curls from his face, appreciating the thickness of his hair between your fingers because you don’t think you’ll get to touch it again. His hands trail low to the small of your back; you feel yourself brush up against his member, already hard and poised.

You want to tell him that you love him, that you will always always love him. But you know you would break if you say it.

So you just lean down to kiss him.

People like to describe their kisses like electricity, fire, a bolt of lightning striking down their spine. But for you, it really isn’t like that at all. When your lips meet, it feels like your first sip of cocoa on the first day of winter warm but not hot enough to burn, feels as though you’re interlocking fingers in a crowd of busy bodies and his thumb brushes over yours to tell you it’s okay, I’m right here and I won’t let go.

And you both pull away at the same time, a string of saliva between your mouths.

Because you both feel it, and it’s too much.

But this is the last time, you remind yourselves. Last time.

So your lips fall back onto him, fuelled by a passion you’ve never felt before. His mouth is velvet, fitting over yours so perfectly that it hurts. His hand finds your face, wet from being submerged, and he holds you more tenderly than he would an infant. Your chest is imploding from every ragged breath you take between hot kisses and you just let it.

Arousal pulling at your strings, your hand snakes down his front, dips into the water and wraps around his cock. “Ah…” Taehyung groans into your mouth. Your touch swipes across his tip. “Fuck, baby.”

Baby.

That is your undoing.

His teeth find your breasts, taking your nipple and teasing it until you’re whimpering in need. The roughness of his tongue tingles your sensitive bud so much that your eyes roll back and your vision is black and dotted with stars. The water providing you with a newfound ease, you pump him relentlessly, sitting up so you can slide his tip over your clit and along your folds. Because neither of you can wait, you’re cutting to the chase. Anything else can wait until subsequent rounds.

Every time his head brushes past your clit, a convulsion shoots up you. Your thighs quiver around him as he digs his fingers into the flesh of your ass. And when you inch by inch sink down onto his cock, the euphoric stretch in your walls numbs all other sensation.

You have missed this so much. It’s been so long.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” Taehyung’s voice is shaky, breath hitched.

“It’s ‘coz I haven’t…”

You don’t have to finish the sentence for him to understand and reply, “Me neither.”

The boost of reassurance and confidence that it grants you makes you roll your hips over his. From the absence of sex the past month, your cunt has grown unaccustomed to his size. Your entire core aches, but in the best way you could ask for. The water sloshes as you gain a steady rhythm. You have to bite down onto his ear to stop the volume at which you want to cry out because you remember that you are outdoors.

Taehyung’s face burrows into your neck, panting hard, but thrusting harder. You think back to every single one of your times together, from beginning to now. Your arms encircle tighter around him as you kiss the shell of his ear.

The initial pain in your walls is beginning to trickle away, leaving in its wake the claws of pleasure running up and down your body. Taehyung’s cock performs wonders on you that no one else can - it’s just a fact that you have to accept now. Nothing will compare.

Yet you can come to terms with it. You can gladly accept that Taehyung will be the best thing you’ll ever have.

But then you feel the dampness. At first, you mistaken it as droplets of water splattering onto you so you ignore it. And amidst you bouncing onto him, you don’t notice how Taehyung’s shoulders are shuddering.

You stop.

And feel the streaks of his tears running down your neck from where his face is pressed onto.

You can’t describe the shattering in your heart when you look down to find him crying into you. You can’t speak, can’t move, can’t even cry back at him.

It leaves you in wreckages, how he’s holding you close to him still, clinging on despite your how you’ve stopped, muffled sobs cracking out of this throat.

It takes a while for you to regain your voice, but his tears are still ceaseless. “Taehyung…”

When he looks up, you’re struck with another ammunition of distraught. The redness of his eyes, the sad distortion of his beautiful features, the endless endless tears...

“Y/N, I can’t. I really can’t.” His voice is hoarse, as if he’s been screaming silently.

“I-I’m sorry, you should’ve said. I’m so sorry I didn’t realise.” You’re stupefied from the horrendous sight of a completely broken Taehyung underneath you. You immediately climb off him.

“I-” He sniffs. “I love you so fucking much. I love you more than I love myself and I can only ever love you more each day.” You feel it again, the surge in your nose, the sting behind your eyes. You’re choked up, speechless, resenting yourself for putting him through this. You want to bury your head in the water and cry until you pass out. 

“Y/N, I didn’t ever want to lose you because I know I would lose myself. But then I lost you. And I lost myself.” His sobs strangle you by the throat.

“Taehyung, I’m sorry. About everything I’ve done. It’s all my fault and I will always hate myself for hurting you so much.” A single tear rolls down your face, you can’t hold it in anymore. Then a second, third. At the unstoppable oceans pouring from his eyes, you feel destroyed.

“I don’t even care about that! I’m not hurt by Junho or Jimin, I don’t care. Having to wake up every day knowing that you’re not beside me has been the most painful thing I’ve had to deal with. You are my home, Y/N. I don’t want to live in a life that you’re not a part of. I just can’t live without you and I can’t stand it. I can’t- I can’t...”

“Then don’t.”

Confusion draws his browns into a frown. “What?” His face is still warped in pain. You can’t stand it anymore either.

“Then don’t live without me.”

Your teeth dig into your lip to stop your own bawling.

All this conflict back and forth has taken such a toll on you and what for? At the end of the day, one unwavering fact stands true and untested: you love each other no matte what. So why should you let mistakes of the past keep you apart?

“What?” He says again, though understanding starts to seep through.

“I love you, Taehyung. I can’t not love you. I’m not myself if I don’t. So let’s stop this bullshit. I can’t live without you and you can’t live without me. So then let’s not leave each other again.”

You stare at each other, on this cool February night, warm water gurgling up to your collars, the cloudless night sky flaunting it’s collection of stars. And you promise to stay by each other for as long as you live.

“Okay.” That’s all Taehyung can muster.

“I’m yours, Taehyung. My heart is completely yours forever.” His violent flow of tears subside into gentle trickles.

“Okay.” He stands up in the tub, and you mirror his action. Water weeps off your skin, inviting the cold to infiltrate.

Nothing more needs to be said. Your mouths find each other the way they always do, the crashing of your lips, scraping of your teeth. A new tear rolls off Taehyung’s face and onto your fused lips, but it’s different this time. They’re tears of insuppressable joy, knowing that the taste of your tongue is entirely his, the porcelain of your skin is entirely his. You’re shivering from the temperature of the night, but you don’t feel the cold.

His hands come behind your thighs and lift you up to his face level, wrapping your legs around your torso the way he did in Mykonos. With careful steps, he carries you back into the room, past the bed, that poor couch that was collateral damage to your mutual pining, and sets you down onto the bathroom countertop.

When he finally breaks away from the kiss and takes in your beauty under the bright light of the room, there is no less than absolute adoration in his eyes. Never anything less. “I love you and I’m yours.”

Taehyung wraps the only massive white towel he can find around your wet naked body, disregarding the cold attacking his own. You frown at him, hooking him between your legs so you can fling the towel over his shoulders as well.

“I love you and I’m yours.” You say back, blotting his body dry. It’s such a simple statement, yet the meaning it holds for the two of you is so heavy. They’re the very words that you have never found the strength to say to each other, until now.

“Say that again.” You melt under his smile, not a single trace of worry to be found in your brain.

“I love you. And I’m yours.”

You twist your neck back to follow his glare at reflection in the mirror of your huddled bodies under the towel. Cheeks pushed up from glee, heads leaning against each other, and just like that - all your heartache vanishes without a trace.

“Mine?” Taehyung pecks your brow, still smiling.

“Yours.” Legs clamping around him tighter, you turn to face him. “And how are you this hard again already?” His cock’s ability to stay erect is astounding, truly.

“Don’t you know? You could breathe and my cock would be hard.” Laughter erupts both your chests and it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

Allowing the towel to drop around you, your hand slips between your bodies to clutch onto his length. Responsiveness ripples through his toned abdomen. “I want to suck…” You nuzzle your nose to his, your breaths amalgamating.

Taehyung sighs into your mouth. “But I want to-” Your grip tightens around him as you drag out a pump, eyes wide with feign innocence. “Okay, what the fuck, that’s not fair.”

“You’ll get to do whatever you want to me after.” You trail your mouth along his jaw.

“F-Fine.”

He lets you slide off the marble counter with the skin of his neck pinched between your teeth. When he realises that you’re marking him in clouds of purple, his head falls back and gives himself up as your canvas. You understand the appeal of hickeys now. For you two, it’s an agreement, a promise, an exchange of trust. You continue down his front, teeth grazing his nipples, lower and lower, kissing along the protrusion of his pelvic bone. Until you arrive at his cock.

“Do you remember the whole ice cube thing during the heatwave?” You run your finger up his length, over his oozing slit. The heatwave feels like an eon ago, but also like just yesterday.

Stiffening, Taehyung looks down. “Yes…”

“How about I pay you back for that one?” You take his shut eyes and sparse nod as compliance because you know he’s not capable of words right now.

You dash away to collect a glass of ice from the drink cooler, but on your way find something even better. Something you’ve always wanted to try.

Taehyung is slowly touching himself when you return, mildly surprised by the second item you brought back with you. “Whipped cream? Isn’t that from the gift basket?”

“You up for it?” A smirk stretches.

“Very up and very hard.” He lets go of his member and watches you drop to your knees.

To moisten him first, you slowly lap circles around his head, applying considerable pressure and letting the tip of your tongue tease at his sensitive opening. You look up when he moans, and takes his girth into your mouth, sliding his cock further and further down your throat until he pokes the back. Then you pull up with a pop, echoing within the walls of the bathroom.

You take two ice cubes from the glass, one placed between your lips, and the other to massage over your clit. The icy sensation strikes a numbing sensation into your core when it touches your bud of nerves. The cube in your mouth, you begin to trace slowly from the base of his shaft all the way up.

A string of profanities leaves Taehyung at the temperature, and seeds a satisfaction between your legs.

The ice is melting quickly from the heat of your mouth so you waste no time to guide it down to his scrotum resting on your palm. “Fuck.” He whines, his whole length twitching.

When this cube dissolves into nothing but a puddle of your tongue, you take another, ruthlessly educing those curses from him. His tip is the most sensitive part of him, so that’s where you focus on, smearing the edges of the cube around the curve of his head. His thighs tense in euphoric spasms.

The whipped cream comes next. With a few shakes of the canister, you hold his cock pointed towards yourself and view the spiral of white untainted cream unfold onto his head.

“Ah!” Taehyung yelps.

“You good?” You glance up to check that he still has a rein on his sanity.

“It just scared me.” You chuckle and place a kiss on his shaft.

“You should be scared.”

Eyes lock on his, you watch him watch you vulgarly smear the cream all over his cock with your lips. Its sweetness oozes into your mouth and sinks into your tongue. “Mmm.” You hum at the pleasant taste. Then you start to suck, the cream providing you with a lubrication that your spit has never been able to replicate. His cock glides into your mouth with such little resistance that you gag around him.

“Oh fuck, that feels so good.” He can’t look away from you, your hollowed out cheeks and large eyes as you bob your head deeper and deeper. Ribald wet sloppy noises squeaking from your mouth. “Uh fuck.”

Taehyung’s fingers entangle in your hair, guiding your motion in and out. The cream swirls in your mouth, the taste prompting you to suck harder until your mouth adheres like a second skin to his cock. He’s soon panting, even as you come up for air and to spray more cream on him.

“Yeah, keep going. Can I come in your mouth?” His eyes are almost screwed shut, but still open to keep watching. The rise and fall of his chest, and the bulging vein down the side of his cock - he’s close.

You keep sucking, relishing in the taste of the cream, the ease at which his tip glides along your throat, your own fluid dripping from your cunt.

“Fuc- Ah!” Gripping your hair tight, he thrusts hard into you as he cums, ribbons of his own cream mixing in your mouth. Taehyung’s dick pulses violently at the shaft. You watch his jaw fall open, brows pinch together, as the liquid dribbles down your throat.

You pull his length out of you with a great gasp and swallow all the remnants. “Shit. How was that?” Out of breath, you wipe the mess around your mouth with the dropped towel.

“Give me a second to recover from that, baby.” Arms on the countertop to support him, Taehyung lets his head droop back so far that his hair touches his elbows. You wet the towel at the sink and clean his slowly limping member. “Fuck that was…”

When his eyes open again, there is a fury that you know to be afraid of. He hauls you up onto your two feet and latch onto your lips, not caring about the filthy things they’ve just done to him.

“I need to be inside you.” He grumbles. “Give me five, ten minutes and I'll be ready again.”

“Hmm.” Arms sliding around his neck, you let him walk you onto the bed, hovering over you while his hands fondle your breasts that have become lonely. The insides of your thighs are slick with your arousal - that doesn’t go unnoticed.

Scissoring your folds open with his long digits, this thumb finds your clit, bulging and throbbing with desire. The vibrations coursing into you as he starts to rub compels you to arch back. You are really just a plaything when under his touch, as malleable as dough.

“Taehyung!” And for some reason, you calling out his name flips an animalistic switch in him.

With your neck fully exposed, he ceases the opportunity to nibble all over your unmarred skin, leaving angry blotches in return of your marks on him. This thumb is working quickly, the pressure at your clit superimposing second by second.

“Wait.” He lifts his head up abruptly, though fingers still going. “Do you want to sit on my face?”

Your heart jolts in excitement at the mere mention of it. “Didn’t even have to ask.” It has always been something you’ve wanted to try but never gotten around to.

Swapping positions, Taehyung reclines onto his back while you situate your knees on either side of his face. His hands grip onto your waist, guiding your descent onto his thrill-teeming face.

An incredible shock of pleasure fires up your spine when he takes your clit between his lips and sucks. This position grants him an unobstructed access to your pussy, no awkward angle, no cramping neck. So the assail he commences is totally, and unfortunately for your lucidity, merciless. His hands grapple onto your freely hanging breasts, rolling your nipples between fingertips.

Crying aloud from the ecstatic twisting sensation, you feel your eyes water. It’s almost too much, the mind warping accumulation of tension in your cunt. “Like that, Taehyung.”

One of his hands leaves your breast only to insert his digits into your dripping slit. Your thighs are aching, close to giving way; you don’t think you can withstand this tremendous stimulation.

His tongue doesn’t stop and neither do his fingers. Breathing through his nose heavily, he continues to coil your core into loops and loops of hypertension

You’re so close, so close.

And you’re there.

The pulsing waves of your orgasm sweep you away. You don’t even hear your own moans, just the roaring of your blood in your ears. Your whole body writhes above Taehyung, but your muscles don’t permit you to move off him while so ransacked by this high.

It last long, nearing half a minute before your senses come back to you.

And finally, you sag and topple over, trusting Taehyung to catch you and roll you onto your back.

“What the fuck.” You pant, low frequency pulsations still resonating down your legs, in awe of how he never fails to tip you over the edge. And the striking difference between the male and female orgasm is that, unlike Taehyung, you immediately want more when you’re done. “Taehyung, please, I need you to fuck me.”

His reply startles you. “No.” You open your eyes and find him regarding you with such reverence that only confuses you more.

“No?”

Cupping your face in his palm as he props himself on his elbow over you, Taehyung leans down and kisses your nose. Then your mouth. “Y/N.” Your temple. “I want to.” Your ear. “Make love to you.”

He paints a constellation of wet kisses all over you.

“How does that sound, baby?”

You immediately pull him back onto your own lips, a desperate craving as you kiss him back hard. “I love you.” You really do. It’s the one thing you’re the most certain about in this world.

“Ahhh.” Readjusting over you yet still keeping the close distance between your faces, he takes his cock in his hand and pumps. “You know you do to me when you say those words?” He kisses you again, so softly that his lips feel like rose petals. As he lines his tips along your entrance, you shut your eyes and prepare for it.

“I love you.” You repeat. And he sinks in.

It feels different, so entirely different from the previous time tonight. There is not an ounce of concern, of doubt, of hesitancy. You feel safe underneath him, secure.

His tender moans unravelling into songs of vulnerability. “I love you, too.” He whispers into your ear, and you understand what he means by how much these three words have an effect because them alone are almost enough to capsize you again.

His thrust, though lacking its usual roughness, does not lack in anything else. Every time he plummets into you, his mouth finds yours. Your hands are interlocked, pinned down onto the pillow. The surprising intimacy of that act overflowing to the brim. And you swear you could see heaven right then and there.

You feel nothing but love and devotion throughout.

He makes love to you over and over again this night, Valentine’s night. And despite your usual preferences, the sensations between your legs, in your chest, in your mind, are unrivaled.

Transcendental.

When it’s all over, when you’re nothing more than sweaty skin, damp hair, and hearts full of love for each other, you spend your time taking in each other’s details. His unblemished complexion. The beauty mark under the lashes of his right eye. The perfect shape of his cupid's bow that doesn’t seem humanly possible. Everything.

“What we had didn’t work, but we’re not going to repeat those mistakes again, I won’t hurt you again, I promise.” You whisper softly as you caress his cheek. “It’s all or nothing. And you have all of me.”

The glaze over his sincere eyes hasn’t left yet, though you don’t suppose your eyes are completely dry either.

You continue, “Seeing you break down like that today was… the hardest thing for me to witness. So much worse that our stupid pointless fights, and the nights where I would cry myself to sleep. And I can’t apologise enough for causing you that much pain.”

Taehyung’s eyes trailing down bashfully, and you almost worry that he’d cry again.. “I… I can’t believe the day finally came where I cried during sex…” You let out a round of laughter at what he chooses to dwell on.

“I love you so much that it makes me sick. I’m honestly disgusted and mortified by myself.” You snicker in his hair.

“Look, what about me? I love you so much that I cried during sex. Not even just a tear either. Full on sobs. I think I’m the bigger loser here.” The fact that he can joke about the situation reassures you that he’s over it. The mood once again lightens.

“All this just because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants during a heatwave.”

He pulls you closer into his rumbling chest, laughing to himself as he toys with your earlobe between his teeth.

You fall asleep in each other’s arms, for the first time as each other’s lovers. And for the rest of the nights that come after.

.

A/N: Alexa, play ‘Fuck it I love you’ by Lana Del Rey.

Thank you everyone for the incredible love and support you’ve unfailingly shown Heatwave. As my first fic, I am of course so very attached to these characters and ending this series is such a bittersweet feeling. It’s been such a lovely journey to write this couple and although I don’t plan on writing anything for them in the next few months, I won’t close off that possibility completely.

Love you!

- Kristy

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27/04/20

© Copyright 2020

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@taexxxiiaa @shookpreme @taetaeobsessed @tangledsparkles @nonexistentfucks @evilkookie @nbiased95 @shimtatae @taehyungmakesmeoof @itscalledgayhoney @tahaing @yes-another-wannabe-hipster-blog @deliciouslydisturbed365 @getmemyfries @expensive-bangtan-girl @jwlmnbt @herakimkim @dnyad @kaepjjang365 @angelswrld @expensive-bangtan-girl @icyi-sky @gingerpeachtae @spring2787 @monixreal @askingtheimportantthingshere @casualminiaturetimemachine @xblackclover13x @vasysauce @deadinsidebitch2412 @emiyooa @i-dont-even-know-fck @chimycthulhu @gixanjos @hisunshiine @xtaeyi @softjellyjimin @bluemooncnblue @malfeitofeitto @bangtanfancamp @keopitae @out-of-jams @camilaxpolanco @d-noona @haechanspudu @dawnispeace @vante-visuals @liquanzhe222 @bangtanloverrrrr @inner-monologue @bs14401 @seokjoontae @trviahope @comingjimin @jeonsshadow @hoseokinggggggg @honeyspillings @taeshotteok @embrace-themagic @wataemelonz @ftvante @kth-jae @sintatae @lunarnovaa @reputae @imajinative @haosmull8 @sssaltyasian @brilliantlybasicb @devilsadvocater @ladyartemesia @btsglitter @besosalvolar @jayparkjustchokeme @johnnyseotolemyheart @bubblegumyuss @octo-donut @ftvante @gia-the-mermaid @miss-peys @fantasticallyabnormal @hoseokinggggggg @kimtaecook @purplestar00paintblotch @taetaeismybaebae @jooachu @bringitseijoh @btsymasx @triviahope @bboyseventeenn @lpayne612 @misohime @petuliii @slutdropjin @kyelamarie 

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[whatsaboomlakalaka]

fic writer interview!

thanks for the tag @grantairesbottle !!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

20 ! how did that happen !

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

56,068

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

5 on ao3 but really 4 bc I think Original Work + Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game) count as one (its backstory for one of my PCs)

the others are Les Miserables, Dimension 20 (specifically Fantasy High) and Life with Derek

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

What To Expect When You're Expecting A Soulmate - (Dimension 20 (Fantasy High)) - Fig/Ayda - the figayda soulmark au nobody asked for but i wrote anyway - classic first words your soulmate will say to you are written on your body somewhere, bc with their first interaction how could i NOT. 2k, oneshot!

Llamas and Siblings and Pies, Oh my! - (Life with Derek) - Casey/Derek - texting fic! the whole family's involved! i don't know how to describe this one except ridiculous and very fun! 4k, oneshot!

Bump In The Night - (Life with Derek) - Casey/Derek - a mix of soulmark aus from a 3am prompt that i wrote in 40mins and didn't read through before i posted. wild that its this high up tbh. 600 words, ficlet!

A Pretty Good Bad Idea - (Life with Derek) - Casey/Derek - summer vibes prompt that's actually just pwp - everyone loves smut OPPPPP. 2.5k, oneshot!

What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger - (Les Miserable) - Enjolras/Grantaire - again, everyone loves smut? this fic is so old omg but yeah i guess its a thing i wrong. canon-compliant pwp. 2k, oneshot!

5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes! Always! I love to chat come talk to me!!

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

God, right. Do we mean angst like "everyone's about to die"? Because if so, What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger, again, or Just Open Your Eyes - but they're both Les Mis and like. Is death angst in canon-era Les Mis bc idt it is???

Non-death related, I'm going with Evacuate The Dancefloor. Mostly because it was going to end happily and then the last 40 words just came out of nowhere but like. It had to. Idk. Sad wanking innit.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Hmmm I haven't written any with like crossed over characters but I like putting people in different settings. Hogwarts AUs etc. And like. My Life with Derek Tag AU, cleverly just titled "Tag".

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Writing for small fandoms is a blessing, no.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yeah but like I'm not comfortable writing it really? But sometimes I do it to challenge myself and those are always the fics with the best stats which is WILD.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of!

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Again, not that I'm aware of!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nel said this too in hers lol but like. No posts fic, but RP. A lot of RP.

Also @nosybutterfly and I have the starting of a Life with Derek one but we've both been working on separate things recently - Em we should get back to it !!!

13. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

The ship that first got me into fanfiction was Harry/Ginny (Harry Potter). But I've probably read more Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Miserables) than anything else. Plus Combeferre/Courfeyrac (also Les Mis). Honourable mentions to: Beck/Johanssen (The Martian), Josh/Donna (The West Wing), Laurie/Amy (Little Women), and Casey/Derek (Life with Derek).

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Nothing has been posted of it yet but I've got this one Ballet Dancer!Casey/Photographer!Derek Long Distance AU and. Eurgh. One day.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I think I manage to get a lot of info into not a lot of words. I also think I'm funny but who knows what everyone else thinks.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I start so many things I know I'll never finish yikes

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter - I don't even remember my old username but it was on Sink Into Your Eyes, back in the day.

Also Firefly - mostly on fireflyfans.net

19. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

A Thousand Years Go By (Love Don’t Die) - Life with Derek - Derek/Casey - the mcturi siblings are paranormal investigators checking out sam's new mansion-come-hotel. 8k, oneshot!

this fic hit me like a fever dream and i could think of nothing else until it was written. its also got just... so few hits compared to my other dasey fics and that makes me sad sometimes ngl.

Tagging anyone who wants to do it! Say I tagged you and I'll back you up!!

#brb typing #me

[tundrainafrica]

Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (4/17)

Summary:  “Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn’t exist. Everything is a choice.” At that moment, Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him.“

Reincarnation AU. Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn’t.

Note: Feedback is very much appreciated!

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Link to cross-postings: AO3

As it turned out, Hange’s thesis wasn’t just about jumping.

But it would be nice to do it about flying. She had mentioned, echoing that same sentiment in those numerous interviews he had read.

A case study on the changes of an athletes body and muscle composition from preseason to postseason.  

Levi only found out exactly what Hange and Moblit were doing for their final thesis as she ran through it with him over coffee the morning after they met in the lab. He had to admit, he had forgotten whether or not Moblit had explained that same thing to him which was probably just easily overshadowed by the pages and pages of waivers that had been laid out in front of him.

Hange had a different approach to the documentation. She had the same waivers that needed to be signed but had completely understood that no one would have that same drive to read the whole thing and consider the nuances and implications of every bullet point. She had just asked him to check everything and sign or she would not be able to work with him.

Compensation. Injury Insurance. Transportation Subsidy. Meal Subsidy

Levi quickly complied. In fact, he probably would have complied even without the benefits that came with participating in the study. He was already half way through mindlessly checking the boxes by the time Hange had mentioned those parts after all.

“Everything is funded.” Hange had explained. He knew their university was particularly well off. Being an athlete he had been a beneficiary multiple times of free branded shoes, gym bags jackets, meals and even gadgets with championship wins

The generous funding she had received to conduct the research was particularly seen in the well equipped sports facility where Hange was to conduct said research.

Cardiovascular endurance, strength power, speed, power etc. He listed the physical fitness components she wanted to study, the logistics of switching partners and starting anew completely forgotten.

It had been less than 24 hours since he visited her office and it was as if Hange wasn’t as deep into her research as Moblit had made it out to be.

She’s been cooped up in the lab lately, watching track and field videos.

She’s already been talking to Elijah, they did a few tests.

There was truth to what Moblit had told him. Hange did admit to having already the preliminary data needed for her case study but as Hange had shown him soon after they started talking, she had no problem just scrapping her data or giving it to Moblit and starting again from scratch.

As Levi soon found out, she was too passionate about her research to consider the preliminary data wasted work.

Levi had found that last part out after their talk in the lab after she had casually mentioned her lurker Instagram account on top of her blatant refusal to use Facebook and Twitter since too many social media sites were just too much to manage. He could not resist the urge to check the accounts she followed and just as he expected, they were all famous athletes from all different fields, the one thing common about all athletes being the almost inhuman height and airtime they achieved.

Nanaba Briete her friend and the subject of her high school thesis, was a volleyball player. Elijah Miller was a horizontal jumper. Moblit pointed out as well, her data for both players was too comprehensive beyond what was expected from someone of her level of study.

Levi soon realized with her YouTube and Instagram lurker activity, she probably was a stan and for some reason, he was one of the objects of her stanning activity. Levi had seen those types of people on Twitter and Instagram. They had weird voting conglomerations, used some sort of weird language and interacted incessantly with any post on the object of their stanning activity  Hange was not vocal in particular, her Instagram profile and YouTube channels both empty.  He only had to go through the profiles she followed to see that she left likes in most if not all pictures. Among those she had liked were profiles that reposted pictures of his jumps.

Liked by Wingsoffreedom132 and thousands of others.

Levi soon realized after hours going through most if not all the accounts she followed that just like the average stan, Hange spammed the like button like crazy

Looking deep into the comments of one of his jumps that year, he had found a comment from her. A pair of wings and a heart next to it.

How long has she been following him?

Did she have those dreams too?

“Why?”

“Why what?” Hange asked.

“Why me?” Levi continued.

“I told you before. You're amazing. Your forms are all perfect, your body composition is good and that crazy fast improvement  from no name player to rookie of the year?" Hange seemed too sure of herself and glimmer of hope that somehow she had any inkling of their connection in Levi's dreams dissipated. She started to rattle off numbers relating to Levi’s height differentials and vertical leap every year since high school, Levi had to note that there was some truth to what she was saying.

High jumping events had suddenly become much easier for Levi when he moved to the city for college. He had attributed it to the more frequent training that came with the more competitive environment of collegiate sports. It was an ironic turn of events though since that was also around the same time he had started experiencing those painful mornings after dreaming things he could barely member. He chose not to mention that just yet. The connection was just too illogical to be a causation or even correlation issue. It might have even just been an irrelevant coincidence.

Levi continued to listen as she explained schedules and outlines for meet ups. There was preliminary data gathering, multiple tests to be done on weekends in a sports facility a little farther away from the school. There were a few more documents that needed to be answered and submitted similar to what Moblit had sent. It would be time consuming, inconvenient. The prospect of Hange being there made it somewhat bearable.

So bearable, that Levi had found himself arriving at the train station Saturday morning one hour earlier than they agreed upon. They were going to the sports facility for preliminary data gathering. To his pleasant surprise, Hange was already there waiting.

“I hope you don’t mind the shitty schedule,” Hange said in greeting. She was staring at the duffel bag Levi had slung over his shoulder.

Levi had to stay overnight. With the sports facilities being shared among multiple researchers and multiple athletes, Hange found the most she could secure for a last minute booking was an early morning slot, offering instead to provide lodging to Levi for a night so he wouldn’t have to take a taxi late night and early morning when the trains were already closed.

“As long as there’s a place to stay.” It’s still better than commuting at 3am.

“Let’s drop your stuff first.”

The sports facility was a 15 minute train ride and as Levi exited the station, he was greeted by a large building that stretched out a fair number of meters in both directions. Was that the sports facility?

That wasn’t their destination though. Hange guided him through a few alleys and out into a main street where a quaint mid rise condominium was located right to their left.  

“My condo only has one bedroom so I hope you won’t mind staying on the couch. It has a pull out bed though so you wouldn’t be too uncomfortable.”

Somehow Levi had expected a hotel. “Wait, I’m staying in your place?”

The area Hange lived in turned out to be only 15 minutes away by train but oddly enough, it was Levi’s first time there. He found himself just gazing at nothing in particular but whatever was in front of him at that moment as they walked through the streets. They were going to have brunch in a nearby cafe, Hange had clarified. He found himself particularly entertained by the crowds, the grey pavement and the tall buildings that lined his view all making up the urban jungle of the center of town.

The university and the surrounding town where Levi spent a good chunk of his five years was located in a quieter part of the city which Levi had gotten accustomed to pretty fast when he moved there. He never left that area unless necessary for competitions or for schoolwork. Consequently, he was not completely used to the bustle at the center of the city,

They had settled into a diner in a small part or town with Hange offering to pay for the lunch. As soon as they had given their orders, Hange slid a document to him with the words “personal data sheet” written in bold on the top. “In the final output, you will remain anonymous, Erwin just requested we keep the basic data on everyone we study.” Hange explained.

Levi scanned the document before looking up at Hange again. By the way she had looked at him, Levi was sure she could have answered some of it for him. “Why don’t you answer it for me.“ He challenged.

“It’s your data Levi so I---”

“I wanna see how much about me you know.” Levi answered with a no-nonsense tone.

Hange turned red as she pulled the form back towards herself. She scribbled a few things on the paper. “Where do you live?”

Levi gave his city and province.

“I knew that much.” Hange admitted. “Exact address?”

Levi answered it briefly, spelling it out when needed.  “How many siblings do I have? What are their names?”

“Trick question. You’re an only child.” Hange said, looking up from the data sheet.

“The number question isn’t a trick question. You can answer with zero.” Levi continued. He did not need to make an effort to keep his tone playful. He was amused already. “And how do you know about my family?”

“Interviews.” Hange answered briefly.

Levi smiled. “I know you’re an only child too.”

“How did you know that?” Hange asked.

“Interviews.” Levi could see she had relaxed, a small smile creeping up her lips.

“So you’re researching me too.” She asked.

“You started it.”

“Which city am I actually from?” Hange challenged.

“You grew up here…” Levi answered. He sat up a little straighter. Seeing the amused smile on Hange's face, Levi felt it was a good time for other questions. His mind raced as he articulated one of his passing thoughts as he read through her articles.  “Which brings up the question, if you live so near campus, why do you live in your own condo?” The public transport here isn’t shit either. Levi noted to himself. She had little excuse to live alone and from the looks of her place, she seemed to come from a well off family who could at least afford a place like that.  

“I wanted freedom.”

                           A Tale of Two Slaves

The gym was huge. It was also so complete, the coverage so comprehensive that Levi was almost inspired to take up all the sports offered. They had indoor basketball courts, tennis courts and a complete track and field set.

The important part Hange pointed out as they entered though were the devices that could measure things like speed, weight, pulse, all necessary for her study. One of the more boring parts of the tour but surprising none the least.

Levi found himself particularly fixated on the fact that Hange was greeting everyone in the job like a regular.

"Hey, you weren't at the gym this morning."

"Had to pick up my friend here. He'll be helping me with my thesis."

Levi felt a tap on his back, brief and light. Maybe hesitant? Levi could not help but entertain the passing thought that if he were Moblit or maybe anyone else, she probably would have had her arm around his shoulders. He had seen her make that gesture towards Moblit and Elijah after all.

As Hange walked towards the desk and made conversation with what looked to be the receptionist, Levi watched her from behind. At first she had seemed too nerdy and too geeky that he had expected her to be lanky under the sweaters and the white coats she wore.

That day, she was in shorts and a blouse and Levi could not help but notice how her body curved underneath her clothes, and as he focused on her legs, he could make out the subtle muscle cuts on her legs. Hange's physique was definitely more toned than average and Levi pondered Hange's own physical fitness.

Her vertical. Her endurance. Her strength. The same things she had mentioned wanting to study about him.

As Hange gave him a tour though, Levi decided that it could wait until later.

                               A Tale of Two Slaves

That morning, with only less than a minute to drop his bag and could only afford a glance of her room.

As he arrived back there late in the afternoon  after a long tour of the gym, he had to stop himself from making a face. The fastidious side of him was silently judging Hange.

It was obvious in the way Hange had prepared the bed and the way that most tables and furniture had space for a visitor to sit or rest that Hange had at least cleaned in anticipation.

But she's a horrible cleaner.

The sofa bed was prepared but the sheets were wrinkled. The trashcan was overflowing, a disturbing sign that Hange did not segregate her trash. The dining table was empty but a display table at the corner of the room took the brunt of what Levi guessed the dining table used to carry.

There were jackets messily folded on the display table and Levi recognized her schoolbag particularly by the keychain he had returned only a few days ago.

“Make yourself at home.” Hange dropped a few towels on the sofa bed before making her way to her own bedroom. “You can use the shower in the powder room. Also, what do you want for dinner?”

“Anything.” Levi answered. He was still bothered by the state of the room to demand much of anything. The food was free, the accommodation was free, he felt guilty just complaining internally.

Hange seemed unbothered by the shitty state of her “cleaned up room.” In fact she had seemed proud as she toured him around her house. As Levi watched Hange with her goofy smile as she played with her phone in between bites of the pizza they had ordered, he could not help but feel guilty for having harbored such negative thoughts when Hange seemed more relaxed than he had seen her in a while.

“What are you watching?” Levi asked, an attempt at conversation more than anything. There were things he had wanted to ask her, yet at that moment, he felt would seem too intrusive.

Hange turned her phone to him. The video Hange had been looking at was that figure skater glided to the rink and jumped into the air, rotating quickly.

“I didn’t know you liked figure skating.” Levi said, his eyes focused on the heart on the side, to see it filled over. Hange liked the video.

“I like a lot of sports. I definitely would have wanted to try skating as a kid. Maybe gymnastics or even track."

Levi tried to imagine Hange in a tutu or a leotard, having to hold back a snort as he did. “You never looked like the type to wear a dress.”

“I wouldn’t. But I’m pretty sure you know how fun it would be to be able to launch yourself up in the air like that. You’ve done it multiple times.”

Levi thought back to the interviews he had read, the answers she had made even since grade school. I want to see how people can fly . “Why didn’t you take a sport as a kid?”

The smile she had given him after was wry, a little sullen and Levi knew he must have hit something sensitive inside her. “Because my parents didn’t allow me. If I take gymnastics, I’d break my neck. If I take skating, I’d break my spine. If I take track and field, I’d break my knees." She explained in an almost mocking town." They never ran out of excuses when it came to sports. But when it came to academics, they were always shipping me off to some new competition.”

I wanted freedom. That afternoon in the cafe, Hange had answered it so casually, he had brushed it off as they continued to fill out the data sheets. As he listened to Hange explain her situation right there, Levi could not help but recall a twinge of sadness in Hange’s voice as she had said the word “freedom.”

“Don’t get me wrong, academics can be fun.” Hange said.  “But I don’t think it’s ever going to beat the adrenaline rush of jumping or sprinting.”

“And that’s why you’re going to the gym a lot now.”

“I’m in college. My parents can’t stop me now. But yeah, my childhood is done. I don’t think I’ll ever get to your level, even when I train everyday.”

Levi had heard people say that before. The body of a child is flexible, the bones and muscles can still be easily molded. By the time people grow to be adults, their body is set and sure, they could probably jump or run along a track casually, collegiate competition and professional competitions were out of the question for most if not all people who start a sport as an adult.

"Maybe I can teach you?"

                                    A Tale of Two Slaves

The Hange in Levi’s dreams was able to fly. She was the one who would be screaming as they glided through the air in those contraptions. She had the ability to launch herself up in the air, to flip, to spin, just like the athletes in the videos she constantly followed.

Hange wasn't at all out of shape either. In fact as he saw her in gym clothes and as he watched her do a few rounds around the empty track, he had to note that her form was good. Her physique and the cuts in her muscles were also well defined. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the Hange who was watching him do rounds of jumps as she took notes was the same Hange in his dreams.

The bar Hange had set for him was clearable with little to no effort. After clearing a few rounds, enough for Hange to be satisfied with the preliminary data, he took the stopwatch from her hands and guided her to the place he had positioned himself a while ago. He opted to adjust it a few centimeters lower, at a height he had seen less skilled jumpers back in high school clear with no problems.

He spent a few minutes going  through the basics with her, particularly the method of softening a landing, having seen teammates from long ago get injured from that in particular.

“You’ve seen me jump countless times. I’m sure you can do it.” Levi assured. He knew that that last part was for himself more than anything. It pained him to see her nervous. Her face was a far cry from the Hange he knew.

She should know how to do it right?

Keeping the bar at its minimum and going through that landing with Hange a few times had turned out to be a good decision. It was in the way Hange had run to the bar, through the way her eyes went wild as she ran and as she landed right next to the bar that had fallen did Levi realize though, that Hange was terrified.

Terrified yet determined. Hange went back to her starting point and prepared herself for it a few more times.

“You don’t have that bounce in your step when you take off.” Levi bounced on the balls of his feet a few times for emphasis.

Hange gave him a quick nod before readying herself to run again. Levi could see she was tired. As Hange went through the motions pre jump, Levi could feel his heart beat faster. It took him a split second longer to realize why. Hange’s motions were wild and unsynchronized.

Levi did not say anything for fear of distracting her and possibly causing injury. He found himself running towards her instead. He was too late though. By the time he had arrived by the bars, she had fallen on it. One side of the bar flailed up in the air as Hange landed and she let out a loud gasp of surprise.

“Hey, you okay?” Levi asked, as he crouched next to her. He had kept his voice soft for fear of her hearing the panic in it.

Hange was lying face up on the mat, her light brown eyes looking longingly above her.

They had started training in the stadium at four in the morning, hours before the sun was scheduled to rise. It was only when Levi saw how unnaturally light Hange’s eyes were did he realized the ceiling above them was glass, and the sun had risen enough for the light to reflect on it.

“Must be nice to fly huh?” Hange voiced out before sitting back up again. “I’m fine but I think I bruised my shoulder.” She reached out for her right shoulder with her left hand and winced.

Having been jumping almost his whole life, Levi had forgotten for a while, how difficult the mechanics would be to pick up for the average adult. While gazing at Hange who had bent her head back and continued to watch the sunrise from the glass ceiling, Levi continued to reflect on it. If it were any other person, he probably would have even removed the bar as he thought them the mechanics.

The game changer in those particular circumstances was that it was Hange he was teaching, the subject of his dreams, the one who was flying with him from tree to tree in the forest. The one who was smiling and doing backflips, provoking him to chase her. For the life of him, Levi could not believe that she was not able to clear that jump.

                                   A Tale of Two Slaves

The sullen mood of a while ago quickly dissipated to something a little more bearable when Levi suggested they play on the trampolines adjacent to the track.

It had felt ridiculous at first. As Hange continued to gaze upward, mumbling about wanting to fly and as Levi himself dealt with the disappointment of what just happened, it had seemed like a logical suggestion.

It was the most mindless way he could come up with to get both of them flying and jumping and maybe, get them both cheered up in the process. They only had to bounce a few times for it to be exciting. After a few bounces, Hange started to laugh, she started to scream in excitement.

The same excited scream he had heard so many times before in his dreams. Levi found himself staring at Hange as she jumped. The spark in her eye was brighter than it had ever been. Her cheeks were starting to flush from what could have been excitement or exhaustion. After what could have been a few more minutes of jumping, Hange landed on her ass and let out a loud laugh in between gasps.

“Something tells me you haven’t done this before.” Levi said as he settled on the floor of the trampoline next to her.

“Parents didn’t allow me.They said I’d break my ankle.” Hange answered, after she had gotten control of her ragged breathing. She was sweaty and flushed but she looked carefree.

That was the Hange Levi was familiar with. Before Levi even noticed it, he had brought out his hand and lightly touched her on the side of her arm. Oddly enough, she did not resist the light and quick squeeze he had given her. As Levi looked closely at her, he guessed she probably didn’t notice or didn’t care. He quickly let go of her arm, a few seconds after he had noticed the odd action. Before that, he had allowed himself a few seconds to process the  warmth of her skin and the up and down movement that came with her heavy breathing. It was oddly calming and assuring.

She's real. She's alive. She's warm and she's breathing.

Soon after that, they were kicked out of the gym.  Actually, no one had kicked them out. The Sunday gym goers though had taken up their territory on the track as they started their warmups. Levi and Hange soon realized their time was up. The rude awakening to that reality had felt like they were being kicked out anyway.

It also turned out the giant trampoline Levi suggested they played on was only for the children's use. One reason, Hange had never bothered to touch it even when she did frequent the gym.

Hange had sleepily explained that part to him as she sprawled herself on the sofa of her condominium that afternoon. The early morning in the gym had left her exhausted. She fell asleep soon after and Levi could not help but notice the smile on her face as she slept. He wondered if she usually smiled in her sleep.

Levi settled himself on one of the chairs around the dining table in a good position to watch her, busying himself by going through all the Instagram profiles Hange had followed, following them using his own account. Some of the videos were in slow motion and Levi found himself in that same blackhole as Hange had been in many times before, begrudgingly agreeing that Hange was right.

The slow motion videos in particular showed the detail. The way the legs make a slight bounce before launching up, the slight movements the body made as it is suspended in the air. Levi knew there was a lot of body coordination involved in getting the highest vertical possible. Seeing the body work together, the miniscule movements all cooperating to get the jumper spinning, flipping or twisting was oddly satisfying. Levi was distracted, so distracted the only thing that could break it was the vibration of his phone accompanying the banner on top.

Coach Greg.

Levi was once again pulled out of his blackhole. Of course he’d have to train. He had missed multiple trainings the past week due to the wound in his knee. He had also missed yesterday morning’s training having to meet Hange. Their season was starting in a few weeks and he was their best chance at a championship that year. Levi wasn’t too surprised that their coach was more than ready to run through drills with him on a Sunday night.

After a few minutes of digging through Hange’s unit, Levi managed to unearth a pile of post-its and a pen. Thank you for letting me stay over. Gotta run. He wrote. He kept it short and simple, knowing he would probably end up chatting with her soon anyway. He stuck it on the dining table, slung his overnight bag over his shoulder and silently left the room.

As he took the train back to campus, Levi continued on his little blackhole. A video was just released, taken in a tournament in Russia just a few days back.

Quad Queen Alexandra Trusova.

Levi did not know his way around figure skating jumps but he found himself watching it in slow motion anyway. The sped up version was surprising but the slow motion version that followed was mesmerizing. Levi counted four spins in the air, noting both the slight bounce before the jump and the bounce that followed the landing.

As Levi refreshed the video on his phone, he could not help but notice that Hange’s name still wasn’t among those who had liked the photo. Was she still asleep?

He could only imagine the smile she makes as she watches videos. He clicked the paper airplane icon below the videos, scrolled through the users and clicked send on Wingsoffreedom132. He made sure to add a wings emoji and a heart emoji, the way Hange had done in a few of the videos.

Somehow, after doing that, it became easier to imagine that goofy smile a little more vividly.

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levi x hange #levi x hanji #fanfic

[creatively--challenged]

Dark Dealings - i // demon!Tom Holland x Reader au

Pairing: Demon!Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: Implied smut, alcohol, feelings of being watched, slight noncon?

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Y/N and her friends decide it would be a great idea to mess around with a spell book they find in the library. What happens when she accidentally binds herself to a dangerous demon who takes a huge interest in her?

A/N: Hey guys, here’s the first part to my Demon!Tom au. I aim to make this a 3 part fic though with how much I run away with myself it could end up being longer. Anyway, enjoy! If you would like to be added / removed from my taglist please let me know.

It began as a joke. A book she had found in the library with her friends while they were studying for their final exams. Her best friend, Alex, had checked the book out to bring back to their apartment after the exam, something to incite excitement as they dimmed the lights, lit candles, drew the curtains and finally opened the heavy, leather bound, tome of what looked to be spells, hexes, and diagrams of summoning circles. Glasses of wine in hands, the girls lit some incense and candles, gathered around the giant rug in the middle of their living room with fluffy blankets around their shoulders, and pored over the ‘ridiculous’ book.

                “Can you believe they had this in a university library?” Alex sniggered, eyes sweeping over a supposed ‘love charm’, albeit with vague interest.  Y/N laughed lightly, raising the wine glass to her lips and letting out a contented sigh after she took a generous swig, thankful for the deep red liquid after the long week of exams.

                “If you think it’s so ridiculous why did you take it home and insist we all gather around in the dark to read it?” She questioned, quirking her eyebrows at Alex as she continued to scan through the book.

                “For fun. Same reason kids tell ghost stories at sleepovers even if they don’t believe in them.” She rolled her eyes, “Plus, if there’s a luck spell in here I might just give it a go anyway in the hopes it’ll help me pass those exams.” All of the girls raised their glasses to that.

                “I’m with you on that, although I might just try that love charm too, just in case, you know?” Maia, their other roommate, chimed in.

                Y/N leaned her head back against the sofa she was sitting against, eyes closed, finally relaxing after a long week as her two closest friends giggled about different pages in the book, listing a plethora of ‘spells’ such as one to find a lost item, a summoning spell for a desire demon, a hex for someone who had crossed you, and a charm for protection, which elicited a few giggles from the two girls. Y/N definitely heard the words “free birth control” through the laughter.

                “Hey, Y’N! This one’s for you, ‘A guiding spell to help you find someone worthy of your love’, it’s perfect! Maybe if you give this one a go you’ll stop bringing home god-awful dates.” Maia winked at you and Alex burst into laughter. Y/N rolled her eyes. Yes, she has had some terrible dates. Okay, she’s had a lot of terrible dates, and one or two terrible boyfriends too, but she never worried herself over it. That’s what college was for, right?

                “Excuse you! I didn’t mention anything about that blonde you came home with last Friday that barely lasted 5 minutes before I heard the front door open and close again.” Y/N shot back, Alex gasping and erupting into more chuckles as she watched her roommates tease each other.

                “You know what?” Alex said when she’d sobered up, “I say we all do it. We’re all worthy of love and God knows we’ve all been with awful people, be they one-night stands or relationships.” She admitted while reading through the steps to the spell.

                “Yes! Let’s do it, maybe we’ll magically meet some boys –“

                “And girls!”

                “-And girls that will make up for the past 5 years of dating.” Maia finished, shooting Alex an apologetic look. Y/N hummed and thought to go along with the girls’ plan. She’d like to think it was purely to keep them happy though the idea of the spell did seem tantalizing and if, by some miracle, it worked? She’d never snigger at corny TV shows where girls use love spells to find romance ever again.

                “Okay, I’m in. What do we need to do?” Alex started to explain the ingredients they needed, all common things that they probably had lying around the house. Flower petals from the weekly bouquet of flowers Maia bought, an apple each, more candles, and a lock of hair from each of them. As the girls gathered the ingredients and bowls to perform the spell and refilled their wine glasses, Y/N flicked through the book herself. Some pages were in English, though some appeared to be in Latin and she could not even make out the titles or purposes of those ones. It was almost as if there were two books stitched together, as the Latin pages looked far older than the ones written in English. Just as she came across a particularly serious looking spell with a lot of Latin inscriptions and diagrams that looked quite daunting she was jolted into an upright position by Alex calling her loudly from the kitchen. Y/N jumped and dropped the book back onto the luscious rug on the floor, earning a deep papercut on her finger in the process. She scowled as she turned towards the arch leading into the kitchen and held her finger up to her mouth to stop the blood from trickling down her hand.

                “Jesus, what? What’s so important you had to scare me half to death for?” She felt a little embarrassed about being scared so easily.

                “Do we have more wine?”  Alex asked, ignoring Y/N’s glares.

                “Ughhh yeah, on top of the fridge, I think?” She asked, finger still in her mouth.

                Y/N sat back against the couch, re-wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and waited on the girls to sit back down. She glanced around the room, feeling at ease in the dimly lit room as the shadows bounced in accordance with the dancing flames of the candles, until something felt suddenly… different. She wasn’t sure what it was, if anything at all, but she felt as if she was being watched. She subtly checked the windows but the thick, velvet, plum coloured curtains were heavily drawn shut without even a crack of the outside visible. The front door to the flat was also locked, she had made sure herself before she’d opened her wine. She glanced back to the book and found that when she had dropped it, it had fallen open on the page of the love spell they were about to perform, coincidentally.

                Maia and Alex eventually gathered themselves back around the ruby rug brandishing a new bottle of wine to share and placing the ingredients they needed around the tome.

                “Okay. So, we each have to hold our apples and imagine what kind of person we think we deserve the most, imbuing our apple with our wishes for love and filling it with the idea of our worthy partner. Then, we place the apples in our bowl, sprinkle our petals over the apples while holding onto the thought of that person, place our locks of hair into our bowls over the apple to attach the idea to our bodies, and then drop in the flower petals. Finally, light your candle and drip wax from it into the bowl while saying the incantation aloud.” Alex finished while passing a small scissors around for them to cut off a small lock of hair.

                Maia eyed the scissors skeptically. “You sure are serious about this, aren’t you? Do we have to cut our hair?” Alex rolled her eyes.

              “It’s only a little bit, you won’t even notice.”

 They all completed the steps to the spell in order, and finally all three read the incantation aloud, before reaching around to hold hands and wait. Except, nothing happened. The three eyed their bowls and each other in expectance.

                “Is something supposed to happen? What does the book say?” Maia asked, reaching for the book.

                “It doesn’t say! The page stops after the incantation… I suppose it’s not even real anyway. And if it is, we won’t really know, will we?” Y/N admits, finishing the rest of her wine before filling her glass up again generously while Alex suggests they do another one, one of the slightly more sinister looking ones.

                “No, absolutely not. I’m not cutting any more hair for a joke that none of us even believe anyway. Let’s just relax and talk about anything other than college or witchcraft, thank you.” Maia laid her head back against the couch, exhaling deeply, while Y/N agreed and Alex eventually gave in and started filling her friends in on her last escapade with a gorgeous girl from her Pysch lectures.

                Y/N checks her phone after a while, noting it was almost 3am. Maia had fallen asleep on the couch and now Alex wrestled with her to get her into bed, whispering a good night as she half carried Maia in the direction of their rooms. Y/N elected to tidy up the living room before bed, feeling more than just a little tired after the events of the day. As she turned the kitchen lights off and moved to the living room to pick up some stray cushions and throw blankets she felt that same strange uneasiness again. She eyed the book sideways, then shook her head, moving to blow out the candles that scattered the room. As she moved towards the centre of the room, she bent down to the book still lying on the floor and placed it on the coffee table. With a slight chuckle, she shook her head again at her apprehensive demeanour towards the bundle of pages.

She moved to walk out of the room and bent to blow out the last candle when she felt it again, but stronger this time. It overwhelmed her, and it wasn’t just an uneasiness this time, but fear. The kind that glued her to where she stood, even when she could clearly hear something move behind her. Eventually she found the courage to whip around, fists brandished as if she could fight off whatever intruder she came in contact with. Except… there was nobody there. Not that she could see much in the dim lighting, anyway, but the uneasiness disappeared. As quickly as it came, it went, though it was reinstated by fear again quickly, this time as a result of the sight of the spell book lying wide open on the floor from where Y/N had moved it.

She willed herself to move forward, closer to the book, eyes scanning the room for movement, and upon closer inspection she noticed the book hadn’t opened on the love spell this time. No, it was open on the page of a daunting looking Latin inscription, with carnal looking symbols and what looked like warnings scattered around the page. As she investigated the page closer, she noticed a smudge of what looked like blood down the side of the page. She felt an abrupt chill down her spine before she felt a hand cover her mouth from behind, while another wrapped around her waist and pulled her back into a feverishly warm body.

 “Why hello, darling. What have we here?” She felt lips against the shell of her ear and a devilishly low and raspy voice sounded in her ear. Y/N tried to struggle, to turn around and face her attacker, though she was trapped in his vice-like grip and found she could barely move an inch. “Now, now, let’s not be too hasty. Here’s what’s going to happen; I’m going to let you go and you’re going to turn around nice and slowly and stay quiet lest you want something terrible to happen to your little friends, not that they’re sober enough to do much, anyway. Understood?” She felt his hot breath against her ear and his lips brushed her jaw as he spoke, his voice deathly low and almost intoxicating. Y/N whimpered and nodded her head as much as his iron grip on her allowed.

She felt his arms loosen slightly, enough for her to turn herself around in them and face him slowly. She felt strangely compelled to do exactly as he said as the thought of crying out for help or making a dash for it didn’t even seem to cross her mind, something she guessed he knew as she caught her first glimpse of him, a confident, cocky almost, smirk adorned his perfect lips. It took her a second to take in the sight of him; he was perhaps the most attractive man she had ever seen, not much taller than she, though his demeanour made him seem 10ft tall. She found herself caught in his eyes, so dark she thought they were black, and noted him studying her as much as she studied him. He emanated a seductive aura, though there was definitely something off about this man, for he also gave off a distinct sense of danger.

 “How did you get into my house?” She tried to keep her voice steady, she dared not let him see how scared she was. He chuckled eerily at her and the area around him seemed to darken as his grip on her got tighter.

 “Why, darling, you invited me.” He leaned in close to her, his smell intoxicating, but strangely pleasant, addictive almost. Her face screwed up in confusion and just as she was going to protest, his dark eyes fluttered to the book lying open on the table, displaying the ancient looking scripture and the blood soaking the page. She wasn’t entirely sure what was going on but before she got a chance to ask him he’d spun her around and shoved her against the nearest wall, pressing his all too warm body against hers and holding her in place. When she struggled to get out of his grip he took hold of her chin, bringing her face up to his, his grip was solid, though not exactly painful. She was forced to look into his eyes, and a whimper fell from her lips as she noticed the whites of them were completely gone, his fully black orbs boring into hers as he smiled devilishly at her, almost sizing her up as if she was meat at the butcher’s counter.

 “What do you want?”

 “You. Just you.” His hand travelling down her body forced a gasp from her lips and he took this opportunity to dive forward and attach his mouth to hers, kissing her viciously, tongue delving in and out at his own pace, nipping her lips with his strangely sharp teeth. He pulled back as she caught her breath, utterly terrified, and his black eyes bored deep into hers while his mouth held a devious smirk.

 “Don’t you know not to play with magic you don’t understand? Why, you could be inviting any and all demons into your home.” He smirked as horror took over her face. Suddenly he lurched forward and clamped a hand over her mouth as he sank his teeth into the skin where her neck met her shoulder. She felt the world go black around her, an evil lingering in her skin, and felt his arms around her as he continued to mark her as his own. He broke away from her skin and the last thing she felt was his lips brushing her ear as he whispered softly to her;

 “Doesn’t matter anymore; you’re all mine now.”

Taglist : @cyrusandhiscollaredahirts​

@rachaeldonnaspiteri1​ @averyfosterthoughts​

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland smut #tomholland #demontom #tom x reader #demonau #tom #holland

[humbuns]

Hi! Your art is always so adorable and I LOVE your style!! I'm not always good about leaving tags or interacting but I always love seeing ur art on my dash 💕♥️ That being said, I saw ur tags on that last post and.... uhhhh 👀 I would absolutely love to hear more about ur kagehina childhood friends au if you want to talk about it omg absolutely yes please

BLESS YOU BOTH FOR LETTING RAMBLE BECAUSE THIS AU!! IS REALLY SOFT!!! And like 10% angst, so I’m really excited to talk about it 😔😔

The premise is that Kageyama has to go spend the summer with his relatives in a different town because his granddad was not feeling well and had to stay in the hospital for a while (nothing too severe but he thought it was better to send Kags and Miwa away to recover faster and not make them worry!!! ) And that's how he accidentally meets Hinata, who also has relatives in that same town and has been spending summers there for a really long time. 

Kageyama joins a small vb training camp that is nearby his aunt’s house because he doesn’t get along with anyone apart from his sister and grandad so he doesn’t want to stay home with their relatives. That's how Hinata would find him sitting down outside of the gym court alone when he would pass with the other neighborhood kids to play. Hinata wouldn’t pay too much attention to him at first, but every day, it just became the same routine: Kageyama sitting there alone and Hinata always seeing him sitting alone

Eventually, Hinata decided to invite Kageyama to play with them, cause finally, he has someone his age he can play with and maybe, they can be friends but when he asks, Kageyama just straight up ignores him lmao

(And ofc since they’re just kids, this is the highest of offenses and Hinata just stomps away because guess what, he doesn’t care, he can have FUN ON HIS OWN and doesn’t need Kageyama as a friend if he’s a “big meanie”) 

However, Hinata comes marching back later because it bothered him the whole day and he came with the intention to argue, but he quickly finds out that Kageyama just didn’t want to play whatever they’re playing because they were playing exactly what he said (”YOU COULD JUST HAVE SAID YOU DIDN’T LIKE BASEBALL!” “I thought I did??”) 

Hinata then tries to find out what Kags wants to do instead because he still wants to be friends, but they end up spending the whole day arguing/talking without making any progress. When they went home that day, however, they found themselves not really caring if they actually did because that was the most fun they ever had with someone.

So then this became their new, new routine: Hinata trying to figure out what they can do because he finds himself wanting to be Kageyama’s friend no matter what (even if it means sitting next to him after vb practices the whole day) and Kageyama still being confused as to why he’s there, but letting it happen (Hinata almost considers it a success cause at least  Kageyama is no longer ignoring him lol)

Eventually, Kageyama caves in one day after Hinata decides to join the other kids a week later and Hinata gets so happy about this and immediately, abandons the others and drags Kageyama everywhere he wanted to go with him since day 1 (Did he spend nights making terrible hand-drawn maps with a corny title like “Hinata and Kageyama Super Fun Summer Blast Adventure”? Ofc he did.) 

He wouldn’t want to admit it either, but Kageyama couldn’t stop smiling the whole day because of it.

And this is how their summer went: Kageyama skipping vb practice, playing with hinata (or with the other kids, or Miwa, if she was not busy) for the whole day, and going home very happy. 

(Kageyama also taught Hinata how to play vb and Hinata tries to convince Kageyama that baseball or other sports are NOT always that bad if he gave them a try lmao)

However, the coach calls his aunt one day and asks why he wasn’t going to the camp, and here’s where Kageyama gets in really big trouble. (He and Hinata did make an excuse just in case, but they both made awful reasons and ended having an even worse one after saying how their reason was stupid. Truly, no brain cells shared between them lol)

So this is where this drawing comes to play because his aunt called to tell his grandfather what he’s done and that he’s on his way from the hospital to talk with him, so Kageyama not wanting to disappoint him even more, he decided to cut ties with Hinata. And that makes both Hinata and Kags sad because their summer is almost ending and now they both lost their best friend.

But I’m not that cruel either to leave it in a sad cliffhanger lmao so!!!!!

Hinata surprises Kageyama a few days later by showing up to his house and trying his best not to be scared, he tells his aunt that it was all his fault and Kags should not be punished because of this. (He found out what happen to Kageyama by the other kids and immediately tried to make it up) 

Kageyama tries to shoo him away after Miwa tells him what Hinata is doing and noticing how his aunt was getting slightly bothered about him trying to “make excuses” just so Kageyama won’t get in trouble, he really doesn’t want to make things worse than it is. 

Getting more frustrated, Hinata then just blurts out that he wasn’t being a bad influence like his aunt thought he was, but he just wanted to be Kageyama’s friend cause, guess what? because he just really, really likes hiM

And ta-da, all of them just freezes because damn, that’s so embarrassing and so damn adorable at the same time lmao (Miwa is also in the background screaming “aww tobio got a new friend” like the older sister she is too) 

This is also when Kageyama’s grandfather walks in and sees both Hinata and Kageyama embarrassed and his daughter just looking at both really confused lol

To cut my notes short, Kags embarrassingly tells his grandpa + aunt why he missed practice and while he expected to get in trouble, his grandfather just laughs and tells them that he actually immediately rush here because Miwa kept telling him how happy Kags was lately so when he heard how he missed vb, he had to meet the person who made his grandson so happy to even not think abt vb 24/7 

And that's just basically my kagehina childhood au in a nutshell?? I want to point out this is all the same rambling mess that I wrote in my phone at 3am lmao and it’s missing some really cute moments between them but I’m so soft for them and I hope you soft for them too aaaa 

#this is so damn long and i'm not sure i make sense #but i get so excited to talk about kagehina you don't understand #haikyuu #hope you have a good day btw!!! #randomstarmuffin #letters

[trashno0dle]

Deals With A Demon: Part 1 [Marvel’s Spiderman AU]

It was that fateful day that Miles suggested the idea, first, Harry couldn’t even understand why his best friend would want to attempt to summon a demon. For one, demons did not exist, and second, he was a scientist, he didn’t believe in that crap! Well, of course Harry could be wrong.

“I don’t believe in that kinda stuff,” Miles responded rather hotly, “I just wanna prove em' wrong! I mean - you see all those hocus pocus videos on the internet, how do you know it’s not all just staged?” 

Anya stared for a moment, if Harry read her features correctly, he was sure she wanted to punch Miles right there. But instead she heaved a sigh, “he does actually have a point, I myself don’t believe in demons and ghosts but maybe if we take it in account for ourselves…”

Gwen’s lips curved into a menacing smile, “so we’re gonna summon a demon?” Her eyes lit up immediately, “finally! I have this old Ouija Board in my attic that we never use, it’ll be perfect!”

Harry shook his head, “come on guys, you’re really gonna do this stuff? I mean it’s all fake anyway so why even bother?” He couldn’t understand, why would anyone want to even try and mess with the paranormal? If it even existed at all that was. But, Harry knew his friends wouldn’t give up, not until he agreed to their dimwitted plan.

“It’ll be fun Osborn!” Gwen insisted, “you do remember fun right?”

“You’ve been cooped up in Oscorp for so long that it’s getting to you, maybe some time out with us is all you need to relieve that stress.” Anya mused. Harry could tell even though her face remained blank, she was mentally screaming for him to say yes.

And Harry had let his friends down lately, with all the Oscorp business and Norman being...well Norman, Harry hadn’t made time for them. He felt bad about it, really bad, and maybe Anya was right, maybe this was all he needed to finally loosen up again.

He noticed the others staring at him, waiting for his response. Harry hesitated for a moment, before Miles threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

“Come on then Osborn, what’s your pick?”

“I’ll come,” Harry responded with a bright smile, his face falling when he added, “I just hope my dad let’s me come… He’s been weird lately.” 

Miles scoffed, “when is your dad not being dick?” He crossed his arms angrily, and Harry swore he could almost imagine what Miles was thinking right now.

“Well, call him!” Gwen snapped, “we gotta go quick if we wanna get this done tonight!” Harry blinked at her, before pulling out his phone only to see the screen lit up with a text from none other than his dad.

The Asshole:

I won't be home for the weekend Harry. There's a meeting that recently came to my attention. I left $1000 in case you get hungry. Be good son.

Harry furrowed his brow, texting back a quick and short reply. Hopefully his dad would take it as Harry meant it.

You:

Sure. Whatever.

Gwen glanced up at him, noticing the sour look on his face as Harry brought the phone down and placed it back into his pocket. He cleared his throat.

“Well my dads gone somewhere anyways, so I guess I get to come either way.” Harry replied, trying to sound upbeat. Alas his voice cracked and he saw pity strike across Gwen and Anya's features. Miles however, looked fucking furious.

“Harry, will you get mad if I straight up murder your dad?” Miles asked. At first, Harry thought he was just kidding. But the look on his face sent chills down his spine, he was deadly serious.

“Okay!” Anya interjected, Harry silently thanked her for changing the subject, “so we'll each go back to our houses and then meet up Gwen's place later, everyone clear?”

Snapped out of his trance, Harry nodded, “sure I'll get my things, I'll see you guys later!” He swung his backpack over his shoulder before running out of Horizon. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, he quickly glanced at it, to see a message from Miles.

Milez:

Bruh u left ur papers here. i'll bring them to gwen's later.

A smile tugged at Harry's lips. He was thankful to have friends like them. He was thankful to have any friends at all. Being the son of high and mighty Norman Osborn made people take the title seriously and keep their distance from him. It's not like I want to be the son of a rich and powerful CEO… He thought grimly to himself.

Hopefully tonight would bring some laughs and keep his mind off this whole business.

———

Milez:

Harry where the heck r u?

Okay, so maybe Harry got a bit sidetracked, but that didn't matter. He was almost at Gwen's by now with a big surprise.

He quickly texted Miles back, knowing how the latter got when he didn't respond to his messages.

You:

I'm almost here, just had to pick something up!

He shoved his phone back in his pocket and knocked on Gwen's door. Sure enough, the blonde answered within seconds, grabbing Harry quickly by the collar and dragging him inside. 

Harry yelped in surprise, rubbing the back of his neck where the fabric of his shirt had hurt him.

Gwen grinned sheepishly, “sorry, I'm just so excited!” She squealed so loud Harry had to cover his ears.

“Where's Miles and Anya?”

“Upstairs”

Once again, Gwen grabbed Harry by the arm and forced him upstairs. He didn't protest, he knew the blonde was excited and just wanted to get on with it. Which was just fine with him.

Apparently Gwen had decided the four of them were going to actually sit inside the attic all night, because that's where she led him up to, and where Anya and Miles were sprawled out on blankets placed neatly on the floor.

Harry's gaze settled on the dusty old Ouija Board in the middle of the floor, which was surrounded by a bunch of unlit candles. 

Oh we're actually doing this huh? Harry couldn't help but feel a bit scared. He knew demons didn't exist, they couldn't exist. But he couldn't escape the feeling in his gut...this was wrong.

“Alright!” Gwen announced, “it's currently,” she paused, checking her phone, “8:32pm, looks like we'll have to sit here for a while.”

“Why can't we just get this over with?” Anya asked, folding her arms crossly.

Gwen rolled her eyes like it was obvious, “because, at 3am there's the most demonic activity around…at least from what I've read.” 

“So...what are we going to do till then?” Miles demanded.

So the four teenagers just sat and talked for a while. They talked about school, about problems, about the city… And to be honest, Harry wasn't as troubled about his dad as he previously was. Actually, the night of just...talking everything out with his friends made it fade away.

After a while they got bored, did their own things, and fell asleep. And just when Harry could feel his eyelids drooping something sharp poked his side. He looked up, eyes narrowed to see Gwen standing above him. Her eyes gleaming.

“It's time!” She whispered.

Anxiety bubbled in Harry's stomach, but he tried his best to ignore it. Why did he feel so strongly against this? It's not like anything was actually going to happen was it?

If only Harry knew just how wrong he'd be…

It was coming up to 3am, and Gwen had just started to light the candles around the board. Miles was rubbing his hands together, clearly eager to start. And Anya was just waiting. Anticipation glittered in her eyes as Gwen lit the last candle.

The very last candle…

And as the board emitted a very strange glow, Harry wished she hadn't…

Miles took notice of this, and he looked startled, “uh Gwen, what did you do?” He asked, gaze flickering to the blonde who had just stumbled backwards.

“Nothing I swear!” Gwen cried

A icy breeze whipped through the attic, strange, especially since none of the windows were open...and the attic didn't have windows. Then, Harry's heart jumped when the board set alight.

“What's happening?” Anya screamed.

Then the wind ceased and the room became still once more. But before the four friends could even sigh in relief, the board set alight and a clawed hand shot through.

#msm 2017 #harry osborn #gwen stacy #miles morales #anya corazon #peter parker #msm 2017 au #fanfiction #parksborn #weird demon au i came up with #part 2 coming soon i guess #bye #i love y'all

[lxveille]

If you're still taking the time & place flash fics, maybe 3AM + In a Car with Joshua ? and apocalypse/disaster AU if you feel like it ? If you don't take them anymore it's fine tho, I'm using this opportunity to tell you that I love your writing and your one of the fics writers that inspired me to start my own blog too so thank you for your amazing work !!

title: paradigm shiftword count: ~ 2090warnings: mild physical intimacy (making out in car); some vague talk about deatha/n: apocalypse!au (death leech); also hi, i’m still writing these flash fics and your words are so so kind anon!! it’s been a while since you sent this in, so i hope you’re still out there reading & writing yourself

The car is still running. Rain falls steadily down, beating an uneven rhythm against the windshield. The details are caught only in the headlights, and from any other window the world simply looks like dark blurs caught in sheets of the downpour. 

There’s only the sound of the storm and the low static of the radio. Both of you have managed to steady out what had been panicked breathing, and so panting has been taken out of the equation. At one point in time, it would have been a rarity for this highway to be so silent. You have memories of being a child in a backseat on roads much like this one, watching streams of cars rush by and listening to the blare of horns the moment anything came to a standstill. But that had been before; when people still had places to go for any reason other than survival.

Tonight had been a blur from uneasiness to fear. From suspecting to knowing it had been a mistake to trust anyone who said they could guarantee safety.  You’re not sure how long the car’s been idling here. But the warehouse is hours away now, and the clock on the dashboard changes its display to read 3:00. 

Your gaze moves over to the driver’s seat. Joshua is staring ahead; uncertain where to go from here. His hands still grip the wheel tightly, like he can’t quite accept that you’ve gotten far enough away to relax yet. In this lighting, it’s difficult to make out the bruises along his knuckles. You know they’re there, though. Patchy, reddened reminders of how very much things change. 

(“We have to get out of here,” you’d told him breathlessly only hours before. He’d furrowed his brow and tried to understand your hurried explanation of what you’d discovered. How the small community you’d stumbled upon wasn’t the safe haven it had made itself out to be. That in its maze of rooms was one where they kept a bloodied chair and a single jar where they had somehow managed to trap one of those terrifying leeches. All their talk of being a level-headed group, looking not only to survive but to find a way to understand and one day eliminate the leeches from Earth. You should have known they’d have to have a way of experimenting. Of studying. But leeches need to feed. It was the whole reason society had fallen apart when they’d arrived.

Joshua didn’t need to see it for himself. He believed your words, or else the terrified look in your eyes. It was also probably that look that made the others decide you couldn’t just head out to ‘scavenge’ at such a late hour.

It had been only you and Joshua for a long time before the warehouse. In all that time – regardless of all the horrors that came up – you’d never seen him hit anybody before. Not until Hosung had stood between you and the car.)

“Josh,” you speak at last. It feels like you haven’t done anything but whisper or yell or breath for hours. A normal volume sounds nearly foreign. He glances to you without turning his head; still ready to move the car out of park and hit the gas in case anything changes. “I think we’re in the clear,” you tell him. 

“Maybe.” He doesn’t sound like he even means an answer as tentative as that. 

“They’d be here by now if they were following us.” 

He lets out a sigh, and his head falls back against the seat. At least it isn’t a position that’s quite as on edge as he’d been a moment before. “We can’t spend the night out here,” he points out, closing his eyes. 

“We can find somewhere better to pull over,” you agree, “But we’ve slept in cars before.” 

Joshua checks the rearview mirror before looking to you in full. “You shouldn’t have snooped around there.” 

That catches you off guard. It couldn’t be that he’d rather have a bed regardless of whose roof it was under. You look him over in disbelief. “They would’ve fed us to that leech eventually,” you remind him. The words are bitter on your tongue; halfway to an accusation against him, but too caught up in confusion or exhaustion to truly make one. 

“They probably would’ve done that to you as soon as they caught you down there,” he answers. Joshua’s eyes don’t leave you. His gaze seems to be trying to convey something more than what he’s said. There’s a kind of fear waiting there that he’s still holding too close to his chest for you to understand entirely. 

“Am I supposed to say sorry or something?” Your tone is more defensive than you feel. You aren’t really sure what you’re feeling. Moreover, you’re not quite sure what Joshua’s trying to get at. He didn’t want you to put yourself in danger. Sure – that much you could make out. But the warehouse had been a danger the whole time. To hold it against you that you had followed the bad feeling in your gut didn’t strike you as fair. If you hadn’t found out this way, the alternative way of discovering the truth surely would have been worse. 

Joshua lets out another long sigh. His fingers uncurl from around the wheel and fall to his lap. “Do you remember when we met?”

The change in topic has you giving him a puzzled frown. Obviously the answer was yes. You’d both been younger, with families that still thought getting away would mean getting away from the problem. Indefinite delays had given time for the two of you to begin hesitant smalltalk. And when the screaming had started from somewhere unseen in the terminal, you hadn’t really been thinking when you’d grabbed his hand before starting to run. 

In all the time since that day, Joshua had been the only constant. 

“I would’ve died back then if it hadn’t been for you,” he continues, without needing you to answer his original question. His words sound more like a confession than a hypothesis.

You look out the windshield window to where faded highway paint is illuminated in the headlights. There’s a pothole already filled entirely with rainwater not far ahead. It’ll be easy enough to go around it. No one else is the road to keep him from swerving around it. “You don’t really know that for sure,” you reply. 

“I’m pretty sure.” His voice beckons your gaze back to him. “You know I love you, don’t you?” 

The rain and the radio seem to stop for a moment. The only thing you can hear is your mind replaying his words, and your thoughts asking in what way he means it. “You… what?” you manage. 

It’s either another sigh or a kind of breathy laugh that Joshua gives off in response. Maybe a bit of both, really. “I don’t know.” It nearly sounds like he’s backtracking until he adds, “I just do.” His hand moves with hesitation towards you, and ends up stopping at the gear shift that sits between the two of you. “And I thought I might’ve lost you today.”

All you can think to say is, “You didn’t.” 

He gives a quiet hum as agreement. Yet he doesn’t seem fully reassured. His mind still caught up in any number of ways things might have gone wrong. You shift in your seat and reach out one hand to find his half-outreached one. His hand twists automatically at the contact to intertwin fingers with yours as it’s done so many times before. The touch feels different this time; charged with the energy of what Joshua had just said. 

“I knew,” you decide. You must have. For how long, you couldn’t quite say. But perhaps it was inevitable when you spend so long with just one person at the end of society. When you look up from your tangled hands to his face, Joshua has another question burning in his eyes. You can read it from the way sight flits over the details of your expression, lingering for torn moments at your lips. 

You lean over the space between you first, but Joshua is quick to react in kind. Your bodies twist to face each other as much as the front seats of the car will allow. His mouth is warmer than his hand, lips insistent and unhurried against your own. You wriggle your grasp out of his in favor of placing your hand along the line of his jaw. 

The rain rattles against the metal of the car. Slowly, Joshua’s hand moves from the gearshift to your knee. Radio static fades to a warm white noise as you continue to kiss him languidly. As if there’s a backlog of kisses the two of you need to catch up on, but an eternity stretched out in front of you to do it in. 

When your own fingers slide down to his shoulder, his hand seems to mirror in a way; squeezing lighty at your knee before gliding up half the length of your thigh. Inbetween kisses, he pants out words that are either your name, or curses, or god. 

Your body tries to move closer, impeded by the car’s obstacles and the cramped space. A faint chuckle laced with frustration leaves you, fanning heat against Joshua’s lips. He responds by moving them to your neck. Your hand curves around his nape, the pads of your fingers tickled by ends of his hair. He exhales against the skin of your neck he’s already made damp, and a small shiver runs down your spine. You open your eyes for a moment and watch the pattern of raindrops running down the window as Joshua’s kisses seem to run an even less logical path across your neck and jaw. 

You call his name quietly, as if he’s still too far away. He lifts his head to make eye contact. For a moment, there’s nothing but heated gazes. Then a smile breaks out across his face, and you feel your heart flutter a thousand times over inside your chest. Joshua brings his lips your yours again, gentler this time. Your eyes slip shut, and you let yourself begin to sink back into the pleasant dizziness of kissing him. 

Something makes you both pull apart at the same moment. 

Your heads both turn towards the dashboard, hands still caught upon each other’s bodies.

A voice had made you stop so suddenly. You both drawn back your arms; Joshua’s hand hurrying back to the wheel and the gears while you turn up the volume on the radio. It’s difficult to make out the words. You fiddle with the controls, flipping to different stations in an attempt to find the exact frequency the strange voice was using. 

“… checks out… clean…you guys?” you manage to make out as you settle on one. You and Joshua both exchange a look that says neither of you recognize it. 

“No signs of anybody down the road” a second, deeper voice replies over the radio, “Seems like the neighborhood’s empty. Jihoon, Soonyoung, anything on the road?” 

“Yeeeah, the thing about that–” starts a third, only to be interrupted by another. 

“There’s a car that’s been sitting only a bit down from the exit out to us for like… 15 minutes. Not clear what the situation is.” 

“Keep an eye on it,” the first voice chimes back in, “Let us know when something changes. The schoolhouse doesn’t seem like anyone’s used it as a shelter for a while. Wonwoo, you guys head back here and we can try scavenging the neighborhood in the morning.” 

“Copy!” the lighter, previously interrupted voice replies. 

“Another group of survivors,” you remark on the obvious. Joshua’s looking out the windshield, likely looking for whatever exit had been mentioned. Or else for whoever it was that had spotted your car. “They sound young.”

Joshua nods in agreement. It’s the kind of thing that’s reassuring after seeing the kind of camp those older than you can set up back at the warehouse. 

“We should keep driving,” you suggest, “Let them regroup and get some rest.” 

“How far do we go?” he asks. What he really means is, how much distance between ourselves and these guys too?

“Three exits down?” Easy enough to keep track of which exit they would be off of come morning, but far enough to reassure both yourselves and the strangers for the night. 

Joshua doesn’t turn off the highway until you’ve counted five exits.

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #joshua imagines #hong jisoo x reader #svt fanfic #time and place flash fics #when in doubt -- go back to the death leech au apparently lmao

[it-was-so-human]

Everything I feel returns to you somehow

There are many reasons the Silent Sisters unsettle him. But above all else, it is because they remind him of his own sins. AU.

Contains brief reference to sexual assault.

They entered Winterfell in a single file line. Silently as their name would ordain. Shrouded in cloaks and cowls of gray.

And an air of unease.

Come to attend to the dead, care for the injured.

The North might adhere to the Old gods, but many who came to fight the Great War would find solace from the New.

As the New Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North (titles given by his Queen Aunt’s royal decree and shaky lineage claims) he should not be disdainful of any help.

But the Silent Sisters had always made him uncomfortable, their appearance was unsettling.

As a former brother of the night’s watch, it wasn’t the idea of an order, or a vow, or celibacy that unnerved him.

Maybe because he was raised under the Old gods, the traditions of the Seven would always seem odd. But the Sisters seemed so… sorrowful.

Or maybe it was because they felt like death. Wrapped and veiled in the sensation of it.

(He had returned from death, and even he couldn’t shake the dread they invoked.)

He sees one Sister break rank, and move towards the castle walls.

A pale hand reached out to stroke the wall, almost reverently grazing over the stones that made Winterfell.

As if she feels his eyes on him, she turns toward him and he is taken aback for a moment.

Her eyes so blue, a beautiful familiar blue.

He tries to get closer, but she is already gone. Disappeared among the others.

He shakes his head.

There are many reasons the Sisters unsettled him.

But above all else, it was because they reminded him of his own sins.

- - -

He was told Sansa was forced to join the Silent Sisters after Petyr Baelish and the Vale’s failed attempt at retaking Winterfell.

A way to prevent anyone else who would use her to get Winterfell. Like a Brother of the Night’s Watch she was stripped of her Stark name and any claim. Not killing her was a courtesy to keep Northern resentment contained.

But he thought his sister was safe, safe enough, for who would harm a wife of the Stranger?

He told himself that his discomfort around the Sisters were unfounded; it was a peaceful order albeit one demanding a solitary existence. They did good works and were cared for by the Faith.

(And no sane man would hurt a sister.)

Sansa was raised under the Faith, maybe she found solace and comfort in being a sister. After all women did often volunteer.

(But Sansa had no choice, she had been forced.)

((Punished again for the deeds of the men around her.))

He was so sure he would have found her again if he survived the war. So sure.

Would bring her home himself if that was what she wanted.

But he forgot that war was never truly contained just to the battlefield.

He already had an army by then. Already retook Winterfell. Was working on mining dragonglass and preparing for the invasion from beyond the wall.

Didn’t send anyone to retrieve her, didn’t use his great armies to bring her home.

He was focused on the great threat.

Did not need his soldiers frightened of some unnamed curse of the Stranger for stealing one of his pledged brides. Not as they walked into the coming storm.

But he is ashamed when he asks himself that if it was Arya who was tucked away in a Sept, would he have acted quicker?

(There’s a dark part of him that whispers, perhaps he didn’t save her because deep down he worried Sansa would be able to usurp his feeble claim to the North. But no, no that wasn’t it. That wasn’t it at all.)

((He would tear his Lord’s cloak to shreds, place the North at her feet if it could bring her back.))

- - -

He’s thinking more of Sansa now than he has in ages, perhaps more than he ever has.

(And that’s probably why she is dead.)

He has thought endlessly about his brothers. He saw Bran disappear as the three-eyed-raven, was fighting by Arya’s side when she died.

He did not give much thought to Sansa. He just couldn’t.  

But now he imagines what it was like for her, joining the order.

His radiant little sister, stripped of the beautiful dresses she loved and the ballads she joyed in singing.

(Did they truly cut out her tongue?)

Living a life never allowed to speak, never making eye contact with another. People avoiding her like she was death itself.

A perfect lady, even when her hair was in two plaits, made to scrub bodies and boil flesh from bones.

As children they had teased her mercilessly for her fanciful and overly obedient ways. But he could only remember the way her face would brighten over tiny little pretty things or how she would give him delicate advice on courtly ways.

Then he heard the news of what had happened.

Sisters raped and murdered or carried away by plague. All the septs burned to the ground,

It has been years now. But he rubs an ache in his chest as he remembers that she was probably in pain and alone when she died.

Had she heard he reclaimed the North? Did she know her brother would not come for her?

(Was she angry? Saddened? Or worse, was she not surprised?)

- - -

He feels a need to visit his family. His fath—uncle, his cousins.

(There was nothing of Sansa in the crypt, no bones of hers to put to rest. Yet another transgression added to his long list.)

He sees a Sister kneeling by the tomb of his family and his frustration rises. He does not want one of them to be here.

As if his anger radiated, she seems to feel it and quickly scrambles to stand up.

And he is ashamed. He does not want to intimidate a helpless woman. That is not his intention.  

It is not her fault of what (of who) she reminds him.  

She was probably entrusted to give some blessings.

“No, it’s fine. You can stay.“

Her head is cast down, and she lightly shakes it “no” before scurrying away.

- - - 

And the next time he looks for calm he finds that Sister again.

Sitting by the Weirwood tree.

As if immune to the snow and cold around her.

Why is this one haunting him?

He can’t see her face save her eyes, which were closed. But she seemed so peaceful. He couldn’t disturb her.

He could have sworn she was smiling underneath her veil.

Even Sisters get time for contemplation and rest.

(Brothers of the Night’s Watch or Sisters of the Faith. They were just people underneath their vows and cloaks.)

He walks away.

But what was she doing there. Why would someone of the Faith come a godswood?

He looks back and sees her eyes following him.

Those hauntingly familiar blue eyes again.

- - -

When he does his rounds surveying the injured, he sees her again.

He knows it’s the same Sister despite their uniformed unchanging attire.

She was significantly taller than the other and lithe, with strangely elegant dignity while helping her patient.

The charge she is tending groans in pain, and reaches for her, pulling her cowl down.

Jon can hear his own heart hammering when he sees a flash of red hair slipping out before the Sister quickly pulls it back.

It can’t be. It can’t be her.

(He just wishes it were so.)

- - -

He is obsessing over a Sister of the Faith, and it is crass and unnatural.

He finds that one again (the blue-eyed red-haired one). She is scrubbing clean strips of bandages.

And he leaves a lemon cake in front of her.

An offering. (But perhaps also a prayer, a small spark of hope, he could not admit even to himself.)

She looks taken aback, her blue blue eyes widened with panic but only for a moment.

She goes back to her work.

When he returns later, she is gone and the little cake is still there

But he notes a small corner piece was missing.

- - - 

He is injured while practicing in the training yard.

Embarrassing in a way that he survived war and the Night King, only to be concussed by a child of twelve.

The Maester is gone to winter town. And so it is his Sister who is sent to help him.

And after she is done attending to his cuts and bruises and he is made comfortable on his bed, she makes to leave.

He is behaving shamelessly.

But he grabs for her. At first she seems fearful, but eases when she realizes his intention.  

So he holds her hand. It is warm, her fingers long and elegant, slightly calloused and coarse but beautiful.

And she grips his hand back just as tightly.

She is not his sister. He knows this.

But perhaps she knew of her. Had heard of a young Lady from the North, a former Lannister bride, and niece of the Vale?

The blood of Winterfell?

Did you know a Sansa Stark? Did you see her? Do you know what happened to her?

(Do you think she would forgive me?)

But instead he fights sleep that creeps from the herbs and comfortable silence.

His knuckles are turning white, but he does not let go.

It feels too good.

- - -

At night he hears a knock on his door.

He opens it to see his Sister again.

She is probably there to check in on him.

But he’s not thinking.

In his haze, he sees Sansa. Pretty lady-like gentle Sansa.

He wraps his arms around her, and feels her go slack against him.

She is shaking and he feels silent sobs.

He feels it, suddenly knows it. 

Sansa.

Is she scared of him? He holds her closer, trying to convey to that she is safe.

"Oh my girl, my sweet girl,” he whispers to her.

Oh gods, she is shaking but she buries her head against his chest.

And he hears it.

A voice, so quiet and hoarse and unpracticed.

“Jon.”

-

Also on AO3.

(Gah, I realize this seemed like a far better idea for story when I couldn’t sleep last night at 3am.)

#jonsa #jonsa fanfiction #actually jonsa #I am so upset with myself for writing this #it just wouldn't leave me alone #sometimes you have to write bad ideas out of your system okay? #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #please send help #fanfic #I'll edit you later

[parkershawss]

Maxwell x MC Upcoming/Planned Fics

So, as requested, here is my list of Maxwell x MC fics that I have planned! This is mainly for you to request the ones you’d rather read. But like I said before: please bear in mind that I am a uni student and a horrific procrastinator, so I will try my best to get them out asap! 

Note: these are in no particular order! And the titles I have given them will most likely not be their official title, it’s just something I came up with for easiness! Let me know which ones you like! 

Maxwell x MC waltz Plot: Mainly based on Adelaide/Madeline’s mother pressuring Maxwell to dance with her, but instead MC comes up to him afterwards to rescue him, and the two waltz together like they did all the way back at Olivia’s estate

Are you sure you’re okay? Plot: When MC slapped Maxwell’s cheek last chapter, she gets really worried she actually hurt him, so she pesters him for the rest of the night, and begs him to at least let her put some ice or something on it cause “hOLY SHIT IT’S REALLY RED MAXWELL ARE YOU SURE IT’S OKAY?!” Fluff ensues

Twin Skeletons Plot: Based on the FOB song of the same name. MC runs back to New York, and Maxwell follows her

#murderking Plot: Mainly based on my theory about the nobility of Cordonia and poisoned apples. Basically Maxwell x MC that’s loosely inspired by Snow White

MC’s birthday Plot: It’s MC’s birthday, and Maxwell has a few surprises up his sleeve

Miss Atomic Bomb Plot: Based on The Killers’ song of the same name. Maxwell and MC come to terms with the possibility that MC will become Queen

The Boy Who Murdered Love Plot: Based on the Diana Vickers song of the same name. MC wants to know where she stands with Maxwell after their night spent together

The Beaumont Bash Plot: My fic about the Beaumont Bash, where MC and Maxwell get VERY drunk, and continue the party themselves ;) Read all about it in my post here

College Students AU Plot: Based on a prompt. Maxwell finds an exhausted MC working on an essay at 3am

Scared of Thunder Plot: There’s a thunderstorm raging in Cordonia. Only problem is, MC is terrified of it. Maxwell tries to make her feel safe Because I love her: future parts Well this hasn’t been updated in a few months, but I swear part 2 is almost done!!!

Bachelor Party Pictures Plot: An AU where Maxwell sold the pictures from the bachelor party cause he is being blackmailed, and wanted to protect MC

Bonus: The Brothers Beaumont/Life of the Party/The Man Plot: This isn’t Maxwell x MC, but Bertrand tells MC a story about the time Maxwell left home for the first time. Loosely inspired by songs by both All Time Low and The Killers

#maxwell beaumont #maxwell x mc #maxwell beaumont fanfiction #the royal romance game #the royal romance choices #the royal romance fic #choices fanfiction #choices fic #choices stories you play #choices game #choices app

[crowkingwrites]

Title: Heartbeat Language (Ch.2)

Pairing: Jon Snow x Reader

Summary: Modern Day AU. You and your Northern Friends have just graduated high school. Your parents hand you tickets to the hottest music festival, The King’s Feast, for the whole weekend. Jon and you have always been close friends, but something about the music tells you both something different. Something more.(I rated this as mature because there are mentions and acts of underage drinking.)

Requested: No

Words: 1657

Read on Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11116950/chapters/24968301

“Oi! You packed yet?” you called out to Ros who was zipping up a very full luggage bag.

“Almost! Can you give me a hand?” she asked. Ros was a comedic sight. Her whole body was on top of her suitcase. Pink and purple clothes were sticking outside of it. Ros’s hair stuck out in places. She grunted as she tugged the zipper for the billionth time. You stuffed the extra clothes inside the suitcase and with some frustration and determination, you pulled the zipper all the way across.

“There,” you said out of breath. Suddenly, an electronic beat came from your phone. It was Jon. You pressed your phone to your ear while you carried your suitcase out of your room. “Hey you.”

“Hey you. We’re on our way to pick you guys up. We’re thinking of just chilling with pizza tonight. Sound good to you?”

“Oh definitely,” you groaned as you carried the luggage downstairs.

“You sure? Sounds like pizza is putting you in pain.”

“I don’t need this sass, Jon.”

“Oh, I think you do. Now that we’re out of school. I have to find new ways to bother you.”

“You bother me enough. Besides, I’m carrying this suitcase downstairs. It’s hard ok? Give me a break.”

“Allright, Snickers. Personally, I think you and Ros are taking too much for one weekend.”

“Are you serious? Do you remember where we are going?” You dropped the suitcase at the bottom of the stairs. You took the phone away from your ear and put the mic in front of your mouth and started to yell. “This is New York City! You bet your sweet bastard ass I will look good.”

“(Y/N)!” Ros laughed. “Jeez!”

“Whatever, Snickers,” Jon shouted back. “I’m almost there.” That was Jon’s favorite nickname for you. Whenever Jon would tell you a joke or a sarcastic comment in class, you would snicker to stifle the loud laughter. You hung up the phone and turned to Ros who gave you a look.

“What?” you asked.

“So, when is that going to happen, Snickers?” Ros playfully asked.

“When is what to going to happen?” you knew exactly what she was asking, but you refused to answer it.

“Oh come on, you know exactly what I’m talking about,” Ros said. “You guys would be so cute together.”

“Look, Ros we’ve been over this—

“I know, but you know everyone else sees it too right? ‘The Couple That Should’ve Been’ am I right?”

“Just because a bunch of people voted us for that title doesn’t mean we should date.” Ros lifted her hands in frustration.

“That’s exactly what that means! I don’t know how to make this any clearer. You and Jon should date. You’re practically a couple already. You sit next to him very chance you get. You hang out with him every chance you get. I’m totally sure he’s the guy you text good night to.”

“He’s my best friend. Is texting my best friend at night a crime?”

“It is when you’re denying what’s in front of you.”

“Oh come on.”

“No you come on!” Ros raised her voice. “It’s so obvious that you like him. Just make a move!” Suddenly Ros gasped and covered her mouth. You turned around and saw why. Jon leaned against the door staring at you both. You felt your face flush red and you looked away from him.

“So, pizza?” Jon asked trying to break the tension, scratching the back of his head.

“Pizza. Sounds good, Yeah. Let’s go,” you said faster than you wanted to.

Dinner was more awkward than you intended it to be. You couldn’t look straight at Jon without thinking about Ros’ words, ‘It’s so obvious that you like him’. That wasn’t true. You didn’t like Jon, not like that. At least that’s what you told yourself.

You couldn’t ruin the friendship you had with him. If you two dated and it didn’t work out, you would lose him.

You saw what happened with Jon and Ygritte, his ex-girlfriend. It ruined him. Hours of sleep were lost trying to console Jon. He muttered insults under his breath. He glared at her and any boy she hung out with. You couldn’t let that happen between you and Jon. You never wanted him to look at you like that.

All five of you awoke the next morning at 3am. Your mouth was dry and your hair was half in a bun, half hanging down. You cared less if your hair looked like this, you weren’t driving. Poor Theon was. All of you drew straws last night. Theon got first shift.

Ros tried to defend him and say you guys should’ve just bought airplane tickets, but Robb argued that ‘flying takes away from the road trip experience’. You learned fast that Robb’s persuasive style of arguing is nothing to be trifled with. He didn’t win class president by a landslide with his smile.

Cat let you take the van which had enough room for your luggage, extra pillows, and all of you. Through half-open eyes, you watched Theon chug another energy drink. Ros sat in the passenger seat with a blanket around her shoulders. Robb sat in the back seat taking up the entire row. He had second shift, so he wanted to sleep longer. This left the middle seats for you and Jon.

As you settled yourself in, Jon scooted next to you. He wore a white t-shirt with shorts and sneakers. He couldn’t stand flip-flops. He didn’t like his feet showing.

“Mornin’,” he mumbled. You saw the thermos in his hand. “Did you want some coffee?”

You nodded your head and Jon handed the thermos to you. You knew a lot of things about Jon. He tended to be quiet. He kept to himself. However, he had an uncanny talent at making coffee. You took a sip of it. The warmth hit you first, it contrasted from the cold morning. Then flavors of hazelnut and vanilla were next and then the coffee and creamer. It was so smooth and inviting. You gave the thermos back to Jon.

“Thank you,” you said. Jon gave you a half-smile and the engine started. Thon turned around and noticed you two were the only ones awake. Well, half-awake. Your eyes still felt heavy.

“Ready?” he said. You gave Theon an encouraging smile.

“Yeah, we’re ready,” Jon responded closing the door. Theon set out on the road. Your eyes still felt heavy. You put in your earphones and let the beats set you to sleep. You felt a bump and your body jumped awake. Your hair was still in a mess behind you. You looked around to see you weren’t the only one jolted awake.

“Mmmwhat’shappeningiseveryoneok?” Robb said all at once.

“Sorry,” Theon apologized. “That was a bigger bump than I thought it was. We could grab some breakfast if you guys want.”

“That doesn’t like a bad idea, it is 8am now,” you heard Jon’s voice. It was then you realized your side was leaning into Jon’s chest. You must have fallen asleep on him. You could smell the cologne he wore.

“Will there be coffee?” Ros asked Theon, sleepily.

“Yes, it’s a restaurant. Of course there will be coffee,” Theon told her. He turned into the restaurant parking lot, and you saw the diner sign welcoming you into pancake heaven.

The five of you munched on syrup-drenched pancakes, sunny-side eggs, and sausage until your bellies were full. While the boys were gassing up the car, Ros forced you into the gas station bathroom with her.

“This is gross,” you said.

“It’s not that bad,” Ros said, fixing her hair.

“You mean, it’s not Theon’s bathroom,” you sassed her. She shot you a look.

“That was one time. At a party. And I was drunk.”

“Why’d you bring me in here anyways?” you looked in the mirror, you looked much more awake and sane now with coffee and food in your belly.

“I wanted to show you something,” Ros pulled out her phone and scrolled through her feed. “I saw this at breakfast, and I think it’s something you should know.” Ros handed her phone to you. You recognized the twitter blue and the familiar icon of a bow and arrows with red hair. The tweet read: “See you bitches at the Feast! #KingsFeast”

“Ygritte’s going to be there too,” you said softly.

“Yup,” Ros said in frustration. After the slut-shaming incident, Ros never respected or cared for Ygritte’s opinion. “I don’t think Jon saw it yet, and I figure it would be best if you warned him.”

“It’s thousands of people. I seriously doubt we’ll see her there,” you handed the phone back to her.

“You should still tell him. Just in case,” Ros exited the bathroom. Jon was outside the car, drinking water.

“Hey you,” Jon smiled. When he saw your face, he frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t wanna beat around the bush, so I’m just gonna say it. She’s coming,” you said.

“Who’s coming?”

“Ygritte. I saw it on her twitter.”

“Oh,” Jon looked down. He shook his head. “It’ll be fine. There’s thousands of people there anyways. We’re not gonna run into her.” You nodded your head.

“Exactly! Nothing to worry about.” You squeezed his shoulder.

“Alright lords and ladies!” Robb shouted from the driver’s seat. “We will ride into Valhalla into the Kingdom where we will feast and get wasted!” Jon and you rolled your eyes.

“Robb, you couldn’t hold your liquor even if your hands were duct taped to the bottle,” Jon laughed. With the five of you in the car, Robb started to drive on the highway. Jon shared earbuds with you, and you listened to his warm-up festival playlist together.

Ros shot you a knowing look that almost said ‘See? He’s your lobster’. You waved her off, and paid attention to the build-up of the electronic beat. Your hand was inches away from his.

#jon snow #jon snow x reader #jon snow/ reader #jon snow imagine #jon snow fluff #heartbeat language

[nightbts]

late night talks | pjm

pairing: park jimin + gf! reader

genre: fluff, angst + idol! au

word count: 0.8k

Heyyy can u request a scenario where y/n is with jimin but she has always felt insecure and that he can do better and one night when she thought jimin was sleeping she let her heart out to him but he actually heard everything? Angst fluff? Hope that makes sense hahaha - Anonymous

Reader's POV

You let out a deep sigh as you twisted around in your bed, finally turning around to face a sleeping figure next to you who's chest rose softly with the gentle breaths that escaped his mouth.

Your lips titled up into a small smile as you brought your fingers up to his face, gently caressing the sides as you saw him instinctively move closer into your touch.

Just as your eyes were about to flutter close, the thoughts that haunted you all day came crashing down at you at 3am in the morning.

Your smile turned into a frown, as your fingers hesitantly retreated, bringing them back as you shut your eyes close, wanting to just wipe out the thoughts running through your head.

"I'm sorry," you whispered quietly, although you knew he was well asleep, your voice raw as you felt tears swim behind your eyes, threatening to fall over any moment.

"I-I just. God, Jimin why?" you choked, biting down on your lip harshly as you looked to his chest, finding it even hard to breathe.

"Why me? I–I'm boring, I'm ugly, I'm useless and–" you stopped, before breathing in and whispering, "I don't deserve someone like you."

You sighed and let out a weak chuckle, "I’m literally nothing compared to the million people you work with every day, I mean, your constantly surrounded by beautiful people and yet it almost seems like a joke that you chose to be with me."

Your fingers tightened into a fist as you continued, the tears finally streaming down your face as you sobbed quietly, "And your just so perfect, everything about you is, from your personality to your determination to the way you make my heart race at every little thing you do."

"I'm so sorry, Jimin-ah," your voice cracked, "I–

"Y/N." a voice interrupted in the middle, your glassy eyes shooting up in surprise as they met Jimin's strong gaze.

You didn't notice he was awake, as you felt the fear crawl up your spine when you realized he'd heard every word you uttered to him, something that you'd been too afraid to admit to even yourself.

Suddenly, you felt his hand cup your face gently, bringing your gaze back to his as his fingers caught your stray tears, wiping them away gently.

"Jimi—I." your voice faltered when you felt your heart stop at the next words that came out of his mouth, his soft whisper sending your heart spinning in cartwheels.

"I love you," he said hoarsely, his eyes softening at you as he pulled you closer to him, resting his forehead against yours so that his eyes bore into yours, making it easy to see the sincerity in his words. Your lips parted in surprise as you found yourself void of any words, your throat going dry as you simply blinked at the boy in front of you.

Pressing his lips to your forehead he whispered, "I love your brain that always generates all your smart ass comments at me."

As you fluttered your eyes close, he kissed each one before saying, "I love these eyes that always look at the world with so much wonder, curiosity, and amazement, especially with love for me."

Brushing his nose against yours, you giggled slightly as he breathed, "I love the way your nose always scrunches up in the cutest way whenever you laugh, making me do the stupidest, dumbest things just to see it happen."

Finally trailing his lips down to your own, hovering over them, the space between the two of you was almost unbearable.

"I love your mouth and every single word that comes out of it, especially when you're talking to me and make me go insane at how with even one word you make my heart go crazy." he chuckled when he pulled away from you, a small whine escaping your lips.

As his hands rested back on your waist, pulling you even closer to him that you were sure was impossible at this point, he whispered, "And on top of all that, I love you, my beautiful, amazingly talented girlfriend that makes me count the stars everyday cause I'm so goddamn lucky, so don't you ever say you don't deserve me cause without you I wouldn't be here."

Your eyes shined with tears, but this time they were happy tears, as you choked back, "God, I-I love you too Jimin. I love you so much, so so much–"

But before you could finish, Jimin quickly engulfed your lips with his, kissing you sweetly as your mind spun in circles, your fingers clutching his t-shirt as you kissed him back, your lips perfectly molded against his as you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

"You're perfect, every inch of you, every piece of you, everything." he breathed against your lips, as he pulled away slowly, kissing your forehead one last time before cuddling you against his warm chest.

"Jimin?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you," you confessed softly as he looked down at you with a smile that you were you'd never forget even in a million years.

"Anything for you."

#ahhhhh i wrote this in like 15 minutes so its trash but this is so cute squeals #jimin #park jimin #bts #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts fluff #jimin angst #jimin fluff #jimin scenario #jimin one shot #jungkook #yoongi #jhope #suga #taehyung #v #hoseok #namjoon #rapmon #jk #jin #seokjin