#I spent too long trying to figure out the shading for the fabric and over-complicated it and aaaa

[mist-cat]

Talk to Me

Really enjoyed this movie! My first thought while watching it was that it must've been engineered in a lab to freak me, and specifically me, the fuck out. Been a while since a movie has gotten to me like that!

I adore when horror has motifs surrounding bright colors, so I had to do a small redraw.

#talk to me 2023 #I spent too long trying to figure out the shading for the fabric and over-complicated it and aaaa #but I mostly focused on having fun #which I did! so YIPPIEE mission accomplished. #my art #Talk to me #art #redraw #fanart #talk to me fanart #mia #digital art #horror

[sunkissedpages]

instead of you [part eighteen]

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, mentions of +sex

word count: 2k

series masterlist

“Sam and I will take the bunk beds.”

The room was a decent size. It was definitely bigger than Sam’s dad had made it sound. A large window on the back wall flooded the space with natural light and offered a view of the city below. By the door was a small fridge and a countertop with a sink and a couple of burners built in so that guests could cook their own meals. There was a queen sized bed jutting out from the western-facing wall and built into the adjacent wall were two twin-sized bunks, one on top of the other, making the room feel... cozy.

Harry and Tom traded looks with each other.

“Kidding.”

The boys visibly relaxed and chuckled awkwardly.

“If I ever have to share a bed with Tom again it’ll be too soon,” Harry sighed.

“Is that any way to treat your big brother?” Tom scoffed.

“I’m taller than you.”

“For now.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean? You’re twenty-five, you’re done growing.”

Tom shrugged. “Yeah, but I could always make you shorter.”

“Oh, what are you going to do, cut my legs off?” Harry challenged.

“I never said that.”

“Jesus Christ guys,” Sam said, finally cutting in. “Can we not threaten each other until we’ve had at least a few hours of sleep?”

“Whatever,” his twin grumbled, kicking off his shoes by the door.

Tom slung his backpack onto the top bunk and pulled his sweatshirt off over his head, exposing a strip of his stomach in the process. You looked away instinctively, hoping that you hadn’t drawn any attention to yourself while doing so.

“You always get the top bunk,” Harry whined.

“Yeah, because I’m older.”

“That’s not fair!”

“My brothers are actually ten years old,” Sam explained to you, raising his voice so that you could hear him over the bickering.

“No, I think ten-year-olds know how to take turns,” you said dismissively, not missing the glares from the other two Hollands.

“You’re right,” Sam agreed. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and sighed. “Reminds me of the family vacations we used to take. The six of us used to share one hotel room when we traveled.”

“Four boys... I don’t know how your mom did it.”

“None of us do.”

“I thought we were going to sleep,” Harry muttered from where he was already laying down on the bottom bunk, clearly irritated.

“Give us a minute to settle in, dude,” Sam shot back before dropping into a whisper. “It’s going to be a long week.”

You shook your head, putting your hands on his shoulders. “Everyone’s just cranky because they’re tired,” you reasoned. “We’ll get some sleep and then grab some food and then maybe they’ll be in a better mood.”

“You don’t know them like I do,” Sam warned.

“That’s true, but won’t they tone it down since I’m here?”

Sam snorted. “Wishful thinking.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever, I’m going to hop in the shower. I feel gross after being on a plane for so long.”

“I’ll go after you,” Sam replied with a nod. “Let me know if you need anything.”

You thanked him with a kiss under the watchful eyes of his brothers who both groaned in protest.

“Oh, fuck off,” Sam growled against your lips.

“By the way, sharing a bed doesn’t mean you get to mess around because I don’t want to hear that shit.”

“Harry!” Sam and Tom shouted, Tom going as far as throwing a pillow at his younger brother from the top bunk.

“Just being honest! We heard you going at it like rabbits when you had your own room, and I didn’t say anything about it then-”

“Harry.” To your surprise, it was Tom who cut him off, raising another pillow in warning. Thankfully, Harry took the hint that time and shut up, crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance.

You smiled to yourself with the knowledge that your little Easy A stunt had worked, and looked over to see that Sam was wearing a matching smirk. He winked at you before turning to glare at his brothers.

“On that note, I’m going to shower,” you said, mostly to Sam, and made your way over to where you had dropped your suitcase by the door.

You gathered a set of pajamas to change into and then wandered into the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind you. It was one of those rolling doors so you had to be extra careful not to knock it off its hinges or the track and cause even more noise than necessary. You set your change of clothes on the counter next to the sink and began to undress, leaving your worn clothes on the floor.

The shower was kept in a room separate from the room with the sink and vanity, something you had read was common for Japanese washrooms. Inside the second room was a bathtub with a complicated looking panel next to it. With a closer inspection you determined it was used to fill the bath with water and customize the temperature. The showerhead was secured to the wall just to the side of the tub which meant you would have to hold it while you showered, but you didn’t mind. You were used to holding the showerhead for... other reasons.

Your shower was quick. You didn’t want to take too long when you knew other people were waiting for it. You were drained too. Even as you dried yourself off with a towel you could feel your arms start to get heavier.

You wrapped your hair in your towel and put on your pajamas shortly after, trying not to cringe at the way the fabric clung to your still-damp body. Usually you wouldn’t get dressed in the bathroom right after taking a shower because it was always so humid and sticky, you’d go out in the bedroom to do it, but as Sam’s girlfriend the latter wasn’t an option. So you dealt with the discomfort and ventured back into the main room.

It was dark now. Someone, you assumed Sam, had pulled the blackout curtains shut so that the daylight could no longer stream through the window. Harry was already fast asleep, but Tom and Sam were still awake, scrolling through their phones on their respective sides of the room.

Sam was perched on top of your bed, resting comfortably. He wasn’t underneath the covers, probably because he knew you didn’t like to share a bed with someone who hadn’t showered.

He smiled when he saw you and pushed himself up onto his elbows.

“Shower’s all yours,” you said.

“Thanks.”

You watched him rifle through his suitcase for pajamas and then eventually disappear into the bathroom before finally flinging yourself onto the bed. You still needed to take your hair out of the towel and brush your teeth, but you took a moment to just. Lay there.

Tom didn’t acknowledge you, hadn’t so much as looked at you since you came out of the bathroom, but you still found yourself looking over to him.

At the airport he had seemed at least a little concerned that he would have to share a room with you. Even in the cab to the hotel he kept sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. But now he looked completely relaxed and you were second guessing yourself. Maybe you’d been projecting. Maybe he hadn’t been anxious at all.

You, on the other hand, felt like you hadn’t been able to exhale since Dom had announced that you’d be sharing a room with Sam’s brothers.

It had dawned on you as soon as you stepped into the hotel room that you’d never be able to let your guard down. Before this point you had at least been able to take breaks, retreat to your hotel room with Sam and be yourselves without worrying that one of his family members was around. You hadn’t needed to keep up the act 24/7, but now you had no other choice. It was only for a week, but you knew it was going to be exhausting. You weren’t even sure that your current performance was believable, and that was without all of the more intimate interactions couples had in private. The good night kisses, the cuddling in bed together, falling asleep in each other's arms, the good morning kisses, all things you’d have to take into consideration. Most couples you knew moved in harmony, like they were one person, half of a whole. You and Sam were more like the hands on a clock. You were always moving in the same direction, and once in a while you’d overlap, but more often than not you were facing each other on completely opposite sides of the clock. It was what made you such good friends. Best friends. But what would make you terrible lovers.

To be fair, a lot of people misunderstood your dynamic, which you had been using to your advantage. They assumed that since you were always together you were basically the same person- and they weren’t necessarily wrong. You and Sam spent a majority of your time together. You knew each other well enough to finish each other’s sentences, to voice aloud what the other was thinking before they even said it.

The vibration of your phone next to you disrupted your train of thought. It was a text from Sam.

Can you come here rq? I need help lol.

Confused, you pushed back the covers and stood up. You dropped your phone back on the bed and walked over to the bathroom, keenly aware of the way Tom stiffened in his bed.

You rolled back the door and found Sam standing in his boxers next to the tub.

“What is it?” you asked, shutting the door behind you.

“How did you figure out the shower? I can’t get the water to be hot.”

“This is what you called me in here for?” you said, exasperation dripping from your voice.

“Yes! I don’t want to take a cold shower.” He said it like it should’ve been obvious.

“Did you try messing with the knobs? That’s how I figured it out.”

Sam’s cheeks turned a faint shade of pink as he pursed his lips, thinking about how to answer.

“Not all of them,” he admitted.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Sorry?”

“It’s the one on the left, dumbass,” you said and twisted the knob for him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled sheepishly. “I just didn’t want to fuck up the shower or anything.”

Men, you thought to yourself shaking your head.

“I’m going to bed,” you told him. “Before your brothers think I’m in here giving you head or something.”

“Let them think what they want,” he said, shrugging it off.

“I want to preserve what little amount of respect they have for me, thanks.”

Sam just chuckled and thanked you again as you let yourself out into the room with the sink. While you were there you hung up your wet towel and brushed your teeth with your finger and the toothpaste the hotel provided. You were too lazy to go get your toothbrush out of your bag.

“That was fast.”

You jumped, hand racing to your heart when you realized it was just Tom. He was still in his bed, but had rolled onto one side so that he could talk to you.

“You scared the shit out of me!” you hissed.

“Sorry.” He didn’t sound very sorry. “What did my brother want?”

God damn it, Sam.

“Why do you ask?”

Tom shrugged. “Just wondering.”

“He needed help figuring out the shower,” you explained.

“Glad he has you for that.”

You narrowed your eyes at the boy in the top bunk. He was trying to get under your skin. Why?

The ball was in your court. You could be the bigger person and let it go, or-

“He has me for a lot of things.” You pushed your tongue against your cheek so that there was a visible outline and brought your fist up to your mouth, moving it back and forth subtly so that he’d get the idea without being too obscene. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?"

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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#instead of you #iou #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x bi!reader #tom holland series

[risthebrave]

day 03; “ophanim”

free-form; angel harry, half-angel and half-demon louis

“In the Bible, there were three spheres of angels,” Harry explains, and Louis rolls his eyes. “The First Sphere contains the angels that serve as the heavenly servants of God the Son incarnated. Seraphim, Cherubim, and the Thrones, or Elders. To the Jews, that included the Ophanim which were seen in Ezekiel’s -”

“I’m sorry,” Louis interrupts loudly, ignoring the irritated look Harry sends him. “Why is this important?”

Harry’s eye twitches, lips flattening into a line as he stops his pacing. He looks awfully grumpy for who Gabriel said was one of their best goodness mentors, arms crossed over his white shirt and stance stiff. His wings are crisp and pure white - bright enough to make Louis’ eyes burn if he stares too long. He’s the only angel Louis has seen so far besides the archangels to actually follow the stereotype and dress in all white and the thought makes him smile. “I’m trying to explain the angel hierarchy so you can understand how things work around here.”

“Then why don’t you get to the important part instead of babbling on about shit that doesn’t matter,” Louis says, arching a brow. “I’m pretty sure I got it anyway. The Order of the Angels are part of the Third Sphere where regular angels report to Seven Archangels as the superiors and the seven report to the Second Sphere and the Second Sphere reports to the First. Really complicated stuff, I’m blown away.”

“How do you even know that?” Harry frowns. “Marla said the others barely got to explain anything to you before you chased them off.”

Louis scoffs. “I’m not dumb. I learned the basic stuff about the system ages ago.”

“The demons taught you about our systems?” Harry frowns, the distaste dripping from his voice undeniable.

“Yeah, they do,” Louis says dryly. “Hierarchies, habits, hundreds of methods of murdering angels…”

He said it in hopes of eliciting a reaction, and he gets exactly what he wants. Harry goes rigid, eyes flashing. “Don’t joke about things like death and murder,” he says darkly. “Not here.”

“Death is inevitable,” Louis dismisses. “Even for you and me. The demons taught me that too.”

Harry sighs. “This would be so much easier if you just listened,” he says flatly.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Louis asks sweetly, smirking. He swings his legs from where he’s perched in a chair, Harry stood across the room from him.

“If you listen, you can learn,” Harry insists. “Learn how to be an angel and how to maintain goodness.”

“Well, that sounds boring,” Louis says, feeling satisfaction flicker inside him when Harry has to squeeze his eyes shut in exasperation.

“You have to listen,” Harry says firmly. “Those are the conditions. You have to try.”

“But I don’t want to,” Louis says, shrugging.

“How do you know you don’t want to when you haven’t tried once?” Harry asks. “When you haven’t even tried to learn about angels and how -”

“I can’t be what you and Gabriel and the others want me to be,” Louis interrupts flatly, “and I’m sure you’ll see that for yourself eventually. I can’t be an angel or believe in any of the bullshit you’re preaching about me being able to learn something that cannot be taught. I’m not like you and I never will be.” He lets out a harsh, bitter laugh. “None of your lessons in goodness will ever change that.”

For emphasis, he stands up and plants his hands on his hips, letting his wings unfold in proof. Harry’s eyes track them, a grimace curling his lips. He doesn’t even bother to hide his discomfort and it just makes Louis even more mad.

“This unnerves you, doesn’t it?” he says, blood boiling at the sight. “My existence unnerves you because it proves everything you know to be true as wrong.” He ruffles his feathers, blood boiling when Harry averts his gaze. “You can’t even look at them.”

Unlike Harry’s pure white feathers, Louis’ wings are a stark shade of slate, lighter than charcoal and darker than ivory. The perfect shade of gray. And it’s really only fitting, he supposes. He’s the mix of both worlds - half-angel and half-demon. He’s not good or evil - he’s in between.

And that’s what drives both angels and demons completely mad.

Neither side knows what to do with him, knows what to do with the boy who crossed the bridge between both kinds that had for so long been unbridgeable and changed the game forever. He is the product of a forbidden match and the source of chaos that neither demons nor angels know how to deal with but seem to think they have a claim over him anyway. He is a source of conflict.

He tracks the movement of Harry’s jaw as he grits his teeth, frustration radiating from his figure. If Louis weren’t so pissed at him, he’d find the whole irritated facade attractive. He’d find Harry attractive. He is objectively handsome, Louis can admit. All angels are to some extent, but Harry’s looks exceed even that bar - all sharp angles and classically beautiful features. Louis would be lying if he said he didn’t notice it, or if he said his eyes didn’t linger on the angel’s biceps and how nice they look with his arms crossed like that.

But beyond that enticing exterior, Harry is no different than the other angels Louis has met - perhaps, even worse. He doesn’t get it, is the thing. He thinks he can teach Louis about goodness and that eventually his wings will turn white and any remnants of his demon DNA will drain out of him like sweat off his skin. That he can just choose a side even though his blood is woven with strings of both.

That’s what they all think - what the demons thought too when it was their turn to try and convert Louis. Because that had been the decision made when Louis’ parentage had been confirmed two years ago. Two years with the demons. Two years with the angels. And then, on his twenty-fourth birthday, he’ll choose a side.

Louis had been raised on Earth - raised with the humans. He grew up in the system, passed from foster home to foster home until he turned eighteen and was let loose on his own. That’s also when his divinity became too strong to conceal. It hadn’t even been a week since his birthday when he woke up with a searing pain between his shoulder blades - the exact spot where eventually his wings sprouted, tilting his world on its axis and sending him reeling. He remembers the day like it was yesterday, the memory making him feel almost nauseous.

“It doesn’t matter if I can look at them not,” Harry says shortly, breaking him out of his thoughts. “It’s my responsibility to mentor you - to teach you goodness. And that’s what I’m going to do whether you cooperate or not. Because I believe there’s potential in you: potential that you can learn the way of the light as you’ve learned the way of the demons in the last two years. You have a decision to make at the end of all of this, Louis.”

“Like I don’t already know,” Louis snaps, annoyed. Harry’s speaking as if he hasn’t been reminded of his impending choice every day since he grew his wings and was taken by the divine beings, poked and prodded at by demons and angels alike, studied and talked over like an object on auction. He’s well aware of what they decided for his destiny - what was decided for him since never once did either side ask his input. He spent his time with the humans being passed from home to home only to end up with the same fate here.

After two long years with the demons and these tumultuous last couple months with the angels, Louis is tired. He’s tired and he’s weary and he’s angry. He doesn’t give a shit about either side - if anything, he thinks he’s better off with the humans. Earth is a mess, he knows, but it’s also completely gray.

Humans are just like him, a mix of good and evil. They exist in the in-between and it’s allowed. Louis has spent his entire life feeling lonely, but at least in the human world, he hadn’t actually been alone. He hadn’t been the odd one out - he was just one in a sea filled with a million shades of gray.

“You can argue or fight it all you want,” Harry says slowly, brows dipping in the middle. Louis can see the way he tamps down any feelings of annoyance and frustration, determined to be peaceful and saintly like all other angels. All traces of potential anger that Louis had been thriving on have vanished from his tone along with any hopes on Louis’ side that he could truly get to him. He’s truly just the same as everyone else - angel or demon alike. “But you’re here for almost two years before you make your decision. You may think you can’t be one or the other, but you can and you will be whether you like it or not. Neither side will allow any other alternative. It’s my duty to show you our way of life and that’s what I’m going to do whether you let me or not. It’d be much easier, however, if you were cooperative and actually tried to fit in here.”

Louis scoffs. “I can’t fit in. In case you missed it the first thousand times, I’m not an angel.”

“But you could be,” Harry says easily, fixing him an intense stare. “You may think it’s impossible because of your blood, but I know you can. And I intend to prove it.”

“What makes you think you have any chance?” Louis asks, tone bored. “What makes you think you have a chance when the four other angels assigned to teach me couldn’t last longer than a week. It’s only been one day and I’ve gotten to you too, you can’t deny it. How much longer will you endure it?”

“I’m a Paragon,” Harry says calmly, still trying to be peaceful even as Louis tries to goad him. “I’ve worked my entire life helping humans choose the right path and guiding them to happiness and contentment and I’ve surpassed all other angels in my class. I was blessed with this title along with only nine other individuals, because I represent the supreme ideal of goodness. And on the day I ascended, I made a promise that I’d do everything in power to help as many people as I can choose good, including you. And you will not be the black mark on my perfect record.”

Louis’ lips curl, fingers clenching the fabric of his white tunic. “You forget my mother was a Paragon,” he says coldly. When Harry flinches this time, he doesn’t feel an ounce of satisfaction. Riling the angel up these past few days might have been entertaining, but it doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t and will never understand Louis - will never even try. He tries to keep his tone even as he continues, “She ascended like you - was just as good and noble as you to be given that title and yet she still ran off with a demon. She fell in love with and then chose to be with a demon, to reproduce with one and create me - an abomination in your eyes and the eyes of everyone else. Would you call that good? Would you call that ‘perfect’?”

Harry doesn’t respond, rendered silent.

december word prompt challenge 12/03/20

#dwpc #freeforms #word prompts #not a wip but #let's call it #angel/demon au #so i can find it #also the way that these keep getting longer and longer... #shout out to lovely jas for saying angel harry is underrated

[thecursedhellblazer]

At the Edge of Nowhere

(( So, guess who went ahead and scratched that crazy itch I got yesterday? Yep, Scotty did. It turned in a small fic instead of a drabble, since apparently I had more to play out than I initially thought, but...here it is. I took the chance to experiment a bit with the writing style too, while I was at it, ‘cause...why not? ))

(( I’m not really sure of where the idea came from, I just really wanted them to have interact, somehow, without inventing something too complicated. And this was the result. Also, it doesn’t mean that I won’t try to shove Five into John’s universe or vice versa at some point, but for now I’m good with this xD ))

(( Sharing just in case anyone is in the mood for some random oddity! ))

(( I even posted in on Ao3 if anyone wants to have a look at it there! ^^” ))

They sit side by side, watching the eternal sunset of Eternity stretching before them, swinging their feet past the edge of the Abyss, unfazed by the danger of its depths. The darkness seems to be threatening to suck them down, condemning them to an endless fall, and yet they pay it no mind, each of them far too interested in sipping and enjoying his drink.

The silence floods past them, over them, through them, carrying the whispers of their lives. However, for this ephemeral moment, they are given the almost unique chance to ignore them. It’s a rare gift, one that deserved to be savoured, like a fine well-aged vintage. Like the ambrosia that the ancient gods, legit and false, so much have lauded.

And so they sit, the Boy and the Fool, side by side, on the edge of the Abyss.

The atmosphere is almost companionable, as much as it can be when shared by two strangers who carry with them too much baggage. A past and a present that are too dark, too painful. There’s as much kinship and understanding between them as there’s mistrust.

They let the quietness linger for a while, listening only to the taste of the alcohol that coats their tongues, knowing that the stasis won’t last. Neither of them is good at keeping his mouth shut when something is making their skin itch.

“Th’ ‘ell ‘s a lad like yeh doin’ in such a place?” The Fool finally asks, turning his eyes away from the magnetic horizon and landing them on his unlikely companion.

The Boy scoffs. Why is it always the same old story with everyone he meets? “I’d watch my fucking tongue if I were you, young man,” he shoots back, with a withering look. “I’m far older than I look. And I’m older than you for sure.”

A half laugh rises with a small cloud of smoke, but it dies in the matter of seconds as the seriousness of those declarations settles in.

“Blimey. Yeh ain’t pullin’ me leg, are yeh? ‘Ow old are yeh s’posed to be den, mate?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding? Trust me, mate, I’m not. I’m fifty-eight. And I’m stuck in the body of a thirteen-years-old. There’s nothing funny about it.”

“Bloody ‘Ell. Fifty-eight n’ still a lad? Tha’s...insane. I dun envy yeh. Nay.”

The Fool shakes his head, but, despite the lingering astonishment, there is a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Tell us, tho. Woh’s yeh secret? I gots me diabolical trick to slow down agin’ n’ all, but it obviously ain’t workin’ as well as yehs.”

“I got stuck in the future for forty-five years and, when I finally figured out the equation to go back to my time, I missed a typo and...this is the result.”

“Soddin’ math. ‘S one o’ th’ bloody reasons why I ne’er managed to get alchemy rite. T’in’s keep blowin’ up in me face.”

“Sodding math indeed. Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

They clink their glasses together and go back staring at the frozen skyline. Two sets of blue eyes. Different shades of the iris, similar heaviness burdening them.

The Boy steers his drink with his straw, lips pursing pensively. “Speaking of things that suck, what is this place exactly? Am I dreaming? Or did I accidentally take some of my brother’s drugs and this is like the most boring trip in history?”

The Fool scoffs. “Gonna pretend tha’ yeh didn’t jus’ insult me too, together wit’ dis soddin’ place.”

His gaze wanders for a split moment, touching their motionless surroundings. “Ah, I dunno, mate. Could be yeh dream, aye. Could be mine. Or maybe we bot’ stepped inside another real wit’out noticin’ n’ ‘ere we are. Wouldn’t be th’ first time for me. Won’t be th’ last either.”

“I’ve never been in another world. I’ve travelled through time, maybe a bit too much, and I’ve rushed through the fabric of space but this…” The Boy waves his free hand. “This is new. It’s easier to think of it as a dream, so I’d go with that, if you don’t mind. The last thing I need is another headache.”

“Wohe’er works wit’ yeh, mate. I get it. At times, ‘s be’er pretendin’ life ain’t real. ‘S good for yeh mental sanity. Even if yeh got none left.”

The Fool takes yet another drag from his cigarette. Curiously enough, it doesn’t seem to be shortening, even if the ash falls down on his trench coat.

“One t’in’ I can tell yeh ‘bout dis place, tho. It ain’t somewhere e’eryone can visit. Yeh gotta carry some serious shite wit’ yeh to ‘ave stumbled in ‘ere. Do yeh?”

The Boy shrugs. “Maybe? I kept pushing and pushing, even after my father had told me not to and I ended up after the End of the world. I heard the bastard’s voice echoing in my head for the past forty-five years.” He makes his voice thicker for a moment. “I told you so, boy. I told you so. Asshole.”

A long sip from his drink, as if he is trying to wash away that intrusive voice from his ears, before he continues.

“I worked for this organisation that monitors the timeline for a while as a trained assassin. They made me into the perfect killer, a tool for their plans. I had my goals, though, since the start. I took their deal just so that I could go back to try to stop the Apocalypse and save my family. We ended up breakin the world anyway, so I dragged them all back in time to try again. Of course, all that shit followed us. Because it’s never that easy, is it?”

The Fool nods and the Boy can tell that his companion knows that sort of feeling far too well. It’s nice to be fully understood, for once. Even if the understanding comes from a nameless stranger he’ll probably never see again. Assuming that their meeting is truly happening in the first place.

“So...We saved the world this time but broke the timeline. And now my childhood home is gone and me and my siblings are stuck in a timeline that holds no place for us anymore. I’m still trying to figure out how that’s supposed to work. Oh, and that bastard of my adoptive father is hunting us down using the kids he adopted in our place. It’s a real mess.”

There’s bitterness colouring his voice, the embers of a fight that’s too stubborn to die just yet, but the exhaustion is stronger.

“Though, between you and me...All I really want is a decent nap and a dozen more drinks. Maybe get a dog too. Not necessarily in that order.”

The straw produces a light slurping sound as he takes the next sip. “What’s your story? You must have one too, since you’re here...wherever here is.”

The Fool tips his head, in a sign of acknowledgement. No comments follow the tale, and there’s no real need for them there, out of time and space.

“Grew up in me own particular version o’ ‘Ell. Me oul man was th’ fuckin’ opposite o’ ‘father o’ th’ year’...So, I ran in my teen years, still thinkin’ I coulda owned th’ world. Stuck me nose in e’ery bloody t’in’ tha’ was magic n’ occult. One nite I got too cocky and damned an innocent girl to Hell. Earned a bloody place wit’ me name down there too in the process.”

The voice that spells out the words is casual, but there’s something haunted in his expression, darkening his eyes.

“Spent all me life tryin' to make up for tha’ bloody mistake. Ended up messin up meself and most o’ me mates n’ th’ people who ‘ad th’ ‘orrible o’ puttin’ their faith in me as a result. Girl’s still in ‘Ell, th’ bloody Devil ‘imself gots an eternal grudge against me, I gots demon blood in me veins n’ me soz arse ‘s still damned. I might not be a professional like yeh, but I bet I gots jus’ as much blood on me ‘ands. N’ even more souls on me conscience.”

The ice clinks against the transparent walls as the glass is lifted. More sourness to wipe away the one that the words have left on his tongue.

“Nowadays, ‘s mostly me, meself n’ I. Me best mate, too, from time to time. No clue o’ ‘ow he survived bein’ by me side for so long. ‘M still tryin’ to make t’in’s rite, but...for th’ most I jus’ try to be there to do th’ bloody dirty job no self-appointed ‘ero gots th’ time to do. I might be lost, past th’ point o’ no return, but there are lots o’ people out there who aren’t yet. Th’ fuckin’ least I can do ‘s tryin’ to ‘elp ‘em, aye? Make dis soz existence o’ mine wort’ more than misery n’ destruction.”

A drag from his cigarette and there’s a small hand landing on his shoulder, in a brief pat, before he has finished sucking the smoke in. The light pressure says more than a thousand words could.

“Between you and me, tho...I could use a dozen drinks too. Maybe more. N’ a bloody vacation. To sod off somewhere, even for jus’ a day. Maybe take me best mate n’ dis other lad I know. Oh, he could use a break too, th’ poor sod.”

The Boy makes a sound of agreement and he is back stirring his drink. “What a pair we make, you and I. And I don’t even know you.”

“I ‘ear tha’ loud n’ clear, mate. Bloody loud n’ bloody clear. Woh’s tha’ yeh drinkin’ anyway?”

“What? You ne’er seen a margarita? Where the hell are you from? England or Mars? Come on, try it.”

“Oi, I know woh a fuckin’ margarita is, oul man. Yehs jus’ a bit...flashier than woh ‘m used to.”

“Special recipe. I perfected it myself.”

“Now, tha’s more like it. I like a bloke who can make ‘is own drinks. There. Yeh like g n’ t?”

The glasses pass from one hand to another and then they both turn to look back at the unchanged horizon, holding each other’s drink.

A moment to sniff the liquors, in unison, and then the Boy dips his lips in the clear spirit while the Fool wraps his mouth around the straw. The tastes mix in the silence and it’s a symphony of citrus and sourness, with just the right amount of sweetness coming at the end.

“So, what happens now?” The Boy asks, after a moment.

The Fool shrugs. “Ah, I guess we wait till all dis fades. Or till we do. ‘S always ‘ard to tell when it comes to dis sort o’ shite.”

A huffs, with the faintest hint of irritation. “For someone who’s supposed to know a lot about this stuff, you give the worst cryptic answers. I can’t tell if you’re that ignorant or if you’re just fucking with me.”

A nudge in a smaller, slender side and a sharp smirk. “Who knows, mate. Yeh guess ‘s as good as mine. Keep th’ drink. I gots more back where I come from. Consider it a safe trip back home present. I’ll keep yehs as a reminder.”

“A present from a guy I never truly met? And a reminder of something we didn’t even speak about?”

“Nay. Jus’ th’ memory o’ some peace n’ quiet in decent company.”

“Fair enough. I can drink to that.”

#hellblazer #the umbrella academy #john constantine #five hargreeves #number five #tua #crossover #(( scotty writes ))

[smkkbert]

We ended as Lovers (3/12)

Summary: Three years ago, Felicity’s life was perfect. She was offered a job at two great companies. Her boyfriend just started his own fashion label, and they picked a perfect apartment to live in together. The more heartbroken she was when Oliver got cold feet and it all ended. Now, Felicity is coming back to Starling City, well aware that she is destined to run into her ex-boyfriend there. While old feelings revive quickly, the pain still goes deep. Besides, for some reason Oliver seems to be angry with her. 

Previous Chapters: 1  2 or read on Ao3

* * *

Chapter 3: Leather & Lace

“Oh, I am so glad that you’re back!”

Thea Queen was a tiny woman of maybe 5’5’’ and less than 120 pounds. She had the face of a fairy, and her short brown hair that framed her face in soft waves only added to the sweet look. Nothing about Thea revealed that she had that much strength in her arms that Felicity thought to herself that, if people continued to hug her like this, she might end up in the hospital with cracked ribs.

No matter how worried Felicity was about the safety of her bones, she hugged Thea back tightly. She couldn’t possibly more relieved or happy that Oliver’s little sister still seemed to consider her a friend although they had barely talked these last three years since she and Oliver had broken up. Oliver was family to Thea, so Felicity wouldn’t have been angry or even surprised if Thea had chosen her brother’s side. Given how close they had been back during Felicity’s time in Starling, she was happy that Thea hadn’t turned against her.

“Okay, we really have so much to catch up on,” Thea said, putting her hands to Felicity’s shoulder and pushing her the length of an arm away from her, “you have to tell me everything about your company and working with Lena Luthor and Lily Stein. You three are known as Charlie’s Angels in the world of technology. I have read so many articles about women of power, and the names of your girl trio has always been in the top five.”

Felicity couldn’t help but smile. She was proud of what she, Lena and Lily had achieved since they started working together. The three of them were indeed trying their best to make sure that women got more recognition. In too many fields of work and society, men still believed that women were the weaker sex.

“And we also have to use this opportunity to watch some of the horror movies that were released these last three years,” Thea continued, “because nobody agreed to watch them with me. I have no idea what’s wrong with people that they refuse to watch horror movies. They are so funny.”

Felicity chuckled, shaking her head. If there was one thing that had connected her and Thea, it was their love for horror movies. They had spent entire nights, watching one movie after the other and just laughing about them.

“Yeah, I missed that too,” Felicity admitted in a whisper, smiling softly, “but I fear that I don’t have much free time. Apart from the wedding, I have some business to take care of. On top of that, I won’t stay long.”

Thea’s smile faded. She looked honestly disappointed and sad at the prospect that they wouldn’t have any quality time to spend together as friends.

Felicity bit down on her tongue. Seeing a friend that disappointed was hard. Having those sad puppy eyes that seemed to run in the Queen Family directed at her felt unbearable. It was just impossible to resist those eyes. Felicity had thorough experience with that.

“Maybe I can make a little time.”

“You better do,” Thea said quickly, shooting her an intense gaze. “There is just no way that we don’t spend some time together now that you are back here in Starling.”

“Only for a couple of days,” Felicity whispered once more, but Thea only shot her an almost annoyed glance. “So, what about the masquerade ball?”

Thea shot Felicity another glance that left no room to deny that she had recognized the sudden change of subject. She let it pass instead of saying anything about it though.

Linking their arms, Thea led Felicity from the entry hall towards the living area of the Queen Mansion. At least from all the time that Felicity had spent here when she had still been Oliver’s girlfriend, she knew that the spacious room had been the family’s living room. Since the room had been cleared of all furniture, Felicity had barely recognized it.

“So, the masquerade ball is going to take place here,” Thea said, making a gesture with her hand to make sure Felicity got that the entire room was used for it. “There will be a buffet over there with some opportunities to sit down. A DJ will make sure there is always some music. That area right there will be used to dance. I hired a light designer to make sure that the light matches the different areas, and I have bought a lot of decorations to add something special.”

Felicity whistled out a breath of admiration. Thea had always been great at planning parties. In those three years that they hadn’t seen each other, she seemed to have gotten even better at it. It was impressive how focused she was and how sure she was that she knew what she wanted.

“I wanted to offer you my help, but I guess you have everything in control:”

Thea chuckled. “I actually do.”

“Sara and Nyssa are going to love this,” Felicity said, already seeing what it would look like if everything had been set up. “It’s going to be a bachelorettes party everyone will talk about for years.”

“If that happens,” Thea replied, bumping her hip against Felicity’s, “that would be exactly what Sara and Nyssa deserve.”

Felicity nodded her head. She knew that Sara and Nyssa didn’t have it easy. They had been put through quite a lot on their individual ways. Since life had thought that wasn’t enough, it had put some more hurdles in their way of finding each other. If someone deserved a really costly and absolutely perfect party, it was them.

“You always had good instincts when it came to parties,” Felicity told Thea and wrapped an arm around her waist, “and this is going to be perfect.”

Thea leaned against Felicity’s side and smiled. “I hope so.”

“I am sure of it,” Felicity encouraged her, “there is just no doubt.”

Smiling, Thea looked at where the party was going to take place. Felicity was sure that she could see everything she had planned the way it would look like when it was all set up. She certainly had an even better and more detailed picture of what it would look like it was completely set up.

“You really are a party genius.”

“I guess it runs in the family.”

Felicity did her best not to think about what happened between her and Oliver yesterday. The bare thought made her stomach tighten. She knew that it should have never happened.

“If there was one thing your brother knew how to do, it was certainly party.”

Felicity mumbled the words under her breath, trying not to sound too harsh. If the way Thea was looking at her was any indication, Felicity guessed that she had failed miserably. She quickly shot Thea a smile.

“I gotta show you something upstairs.”

With that, Thea grabbed Felicity’s hand and pulled her to the stairs. They hurried upstairs where Thea’s room was. Unlike three years ago, when loud colors like turquoise and pink had filled the room, the walls and furniture were covered in different shades of beige. The mess that had been here had been replaced by a giant mess that reminded Felicity of Oliver’s atelier. Apparently, Oliver wasn’t the only one who had been working on designing fashion.

Thea pulled Felicity right in front of her wardrobe. A closed clothes bag was hanging there, and Thea made sure that Felicity was placed right in front of it.

“I designed a dress for you to wear for the masquerade,” Thea announced, “and I also bought a mask.”

Surprised, Felicity looked at Thea. “Why?”

Thea just shrugged her shoulders. “I was just feeling like doing it, and I don’t know.”

Once more, Thea shrugged her shoulders. “I just thought it was a nice idea.”

There was no way Felicity could miss the slight nervousness in Thea’s voice or in the way she twirled a stand of hair around her finger. Wrapping an arm around Thea’s waist, she leaned closer to her.

“It’s an honor that you designed a dress for me.”

Felicity lowered the zipper of the clothing bag and freed the dress and mask from the protecting fabric around it. Taking a step back, she took in the dress Thea had designed solely for her.

The dress was made of a flowing fabric. The top was tight-fitting and only had one strap. From the strap over the right shoulder across the back towards the left waist, some glittery embroidery was added to the fabric. The skirt looked light like it would just flow in the wind. Its color faded from the black of the top to different shades of a dark green color. The mask was silver and glittered like the embroidery.

“I have been in Venice recently to buy some roll of cloths for Oliver, and I bought some masks there. They inspired me, so I started designing and tailoring dresses. I tailored maybe a handful of them upstairs in my room. Anyway, Oliver visited me unexpectedly, and he saw the dresses. He said that one reminded him of you.”

Felicity’s heart jumped up into her throat. As much as she wanted to not care about this, she did care. That Oliver had thought about her when he had seen that dress meant that she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been able to forget what they had had. Oliver had thought about her too.

That moment of relief was soon replaced by confusion. She shouldn’t be relieved that Oliver had been thinking about her too. It only made things more complicated, she guessed.

“Hence, I figured that it was best to give it to you as some kind of surprise.” Thea smiled almost a little nervously. “I mean I thought that you were probably too busy to buy a dress and-“

“The dress is really beautiful,” Felicity said, interrupting Thea firmly. “Thank you.”

Almost dignifiedly, Felicity reached out her hand and brushed her fingers against the soft fabric of the dress. It felt almost felt as soft as water, and it moved like it too. If the fabric was blue instead of green, it might even look like it.

“You are so damn talented.”

Felicity shot Thea an intense glance, but she just shrugged her shoulders. In her eyes, there was pride and happiness visible, but she tried to hide it as much as possible. It was like she didn’t want to consider being a real designer a real possibility because she didn’t think that it was ever going to make it.

“Maybe one day.” Again, she shrugged her shoulders. “For now, I am Oliver’s design assistant. At least officially.”

Thea didn’t have to explain what exactly that meant. Felicity was actually sure that she knew that already. She knew how much Oliver loved to do things himself when it came to his dresses. While other designers were known to sketch the dresses and skip everything about the tailoring until they could add some final details, but Oliver was nothing like that. He liked to be involved in every step from the first idea to the presentation on the catwalk. There was little to nothing left to do for Thea.

“Did you show Oliver more of your work?”

Again, Thea shrugged her shoulders. When Felicity flashed her an intense glance, making sure she knew that she really wanted an answer, Thea shook her head.

“Oliver doesn’t have time for this right now. He’s too busy with his new collection. It will be presented soon after the wedding.”

Felicity nodded her head slowly as this wasn’t any news to her. She had read about the imminent presentation of his newest collection several times. The gossip magazine was full of them. They were expecting something great of OJQ, well, something greater than it had offered these last couple of years. Oliver’s first two collections were still said to be the best.

OJQ was under pressure. They were in the black, but they still hadn’t managed to take up to the success of the first two years. The designs were said to be beautiful, creative and promising, but they were still missing the last finesse to make the designs as unforgettable and admirable as the dresses of the first two collections had been.

When OJQ was under pressure, it meant that Oliver was under pressure. He probably thought that there were more important things to take care of than his sister’s interest and desire to become a designer too. As much as he loved his little sister, he wasn’t able to focus on her with all the focus that was on him and his work.

“You should show those designs to him,” Felicity said, “or to your mom. She is the CEO of this company, and there is a good reason for it. If she sees your talent, she will find a way to include you in the company or to let you find your own way.”

Thea nodded slowly. She knew that Felicity was right. Felicity could see it in her eyes. It didn’t matter how much she knew that it was right though. For years, she had lived in her brother’s shadow, and it just wasn’t easy to get out of the that.

“I guess it’s not easy to grow up in the shadow of your big brother,” Felicity said eventually, “Oliver’s career started quite impressively.”

Thea shrugged her shoulders once more. If the way she lowered her glance was any indication, she felt the same way Felicity did.

People would certainly be able to work with you more easily,” Felicity suddenly heard herself saying. “Oliver can be quite moody. He loves to take out his bad mood on others, especially the ones working for him. I am sure that the tailors would appreciate if you took over. Or, actually, everyone working at OJQ would probably be relieved if you took over.”

Felicity bit down on her tongue quickly. She had tried to hide it. She had wanted to hide it. Nonetheless, her anger had shone through. She just hadn’t been able to get a grip on the sudden wave of anger and hate that had taken hold of her for no real reason it seemed. If she herself had been able to hear it, there was no doubt that Thea had heard it too.

Hesitatingly, Felicity shot Thea a glance to see that she looked indeed tense. She wasn’t saying anything, but she didn’t have too. The way she stared blankly was enough for Felicity to know that she was struggling with her reaction to all of this. Even if she thought that Felicity was right, she loved her brother too much to voice it.

“I am sorry,” Felicity hurried to say, lowering her gaze. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Thea shrugged her shoulders for the umpteenth time today it seemed. “I just want to be left out of whatever happened between you and Ollie. I love you, and I love him. I don’t want to be wrenched in between.”

Felicity nodded her head, feeling incredibly guilty. She had never been in Thea’s situation because she didn’t have any siblings. She believed that she was still able to understand what Thea felt, and she knew it couldn’t be good. Felicity was lucky that Thea still considered Felicity a friend although her relationship with Oliver had been one of the main reasons why they had become friends in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable situation. I don’t want you to feel like you will be wrenched between your brother and me.”

Thea shot her a grateful smile. “I know this entire situation can’t be easy for you either.”

Felicity nodded her head slowly. “It’s not easy being back.”

Not easy was probably an underestimation. She had barely been back for like a day when she had already fallen for Oliver’s eyes again.

“It’s not easy for Oliver either,” Thea whispered, “He might look like he doesn’t care, but he has never loved anyone as much as he loved you.”

Felicity frowned, trying to figure out how she felt about Thea’s words and whether or not she believed that they were true. She knew that she had meant quite a lot to Oliver. No matter how badly things had ended between them, their relationship had meant something to both of them. It had been far from perfect though. Otherwise, their relationship might have lasted.

A long time ago, Oliver had said that they were a little bit like leather and lace. She didn’t remember what exactly that meant, but she remembered thinking to herself time and time again that that was the reason they had struggled in their relationship, at least sometimes. It had been something along the lines of saying that they were both quite precious fabrics, but they were complicated to handle at times. Together, they had the potential for Haute Couture if it was done right. Otherwise the dress would either look cheap or rip apart.

“I’m not so sure about that, Thea.”

Thea shot Felicity a brief glance, shrugging her shoulders.

“Well, I am sure for both of us.”

 * * *

 Letting the door fall shut behind herself, Felicity kicked her high heels away into the mess of shoes that was already gathered next to the door. If she was at her and Sara’s apartment, she would have put her shoes away neatly because there was a certain tidiness there. In Oliver’s mess of an apartment, she could be as tidy as she wanted to be, but it wouldn’t make a change. His mess would always cover everything else.

There were days that Felicity would be annoyed by that. Right now, she couldn’t care less. She was too exhausted and frustrated after her day at work if you could even call it work. It was more like a soul crushing exercise in misery that offered health and dental. Even that felt like it was too nice to describe what she was doing.

It was a good thing she had an incredibly hot boyfriend to comfort her. If someone could help distracting her, it was him.

“Oliver,” she called out, dropping her purse to the floor too, “I’m home.”

Barefoot, she strolled to the open living space. Oliver was working like he was most days at this time. He liked to sleep in and work late during the day, sometimes until deep into the night. Just like in the entry area, there was chaos all around his working area too. Shreds of different fabrics as well as buttons, zippers and pearls or other stuff for the embroideries he had worked on so hard these last months. Since Felicity knew that it wasn’t unlikely for needles to be somewhere in that chaos too, she kept her distance and sat down on the backrest of the couch.

“Hey.”

Oliver flashed her a quick glance. “Hi.”

A low sigh fell from Felicity’s lips as she looked him up and down. He was wearing sweatpants and was barefoot. The fabric of his Henley suited around his muscles perfectly, showing exactly how strong and muscular he was. Looking at him, she couldn’t be more relieved that it was just a couple of months until they would finally move in together because sharing a living space with him meant that she always got home to this delicious view.

It also meant that it was only a couple more weeks until she could finally leave her job and start over. It was time for a change when it came to her job. The longer she’d stay at Kord Industries, the longer she would be stuck in a job she didn’t like.

“Have I mentioned lately how happy I am to leave Kord Industries soon?” Felicity asked. “I swear the atmosphere in the office gets worse with every day. I have no idea how I lived through this for months, or maybe it had really just gotten this bad with time. Either way, I need something better. I need a place where women are welcomed to do more than set up badly handled computers or regain lost data.”

Felicity shook her head. She graduated from MIT with summa cum laude. She had been the youngest and high-ranked person in her graduation class. She majored in Computer Science and Cyber Security, and she was good. She didn’t deserve for anyone to treat her like she was less than the genius she was just because she was a short blonde with glasses.

“Let’s hope Stellmoor International offers a more welcoming atmosphere when it comes to women in STEM. Their Vice President is a woman which is great because it proves that women aren’t left aside completely. Let’s just hope she is not catty. She sounded terribly annoying and harsh on the phone. I mean just hearing her name can make goosebumps spread down my back. Isabel Rochev. It sounds scary, doesn’t it? I really hope she’s different in real life and-“

Frowning, Felicity looked at Oliver. Since she had started talking, he hadn’t looked at her a single time. He hadn’t said a word or even just hummed in agreement or disagreement either. He was just sketching new designs for his second collection. He was completely focused on the movements of his hand and the black lines he drew onto the paper to visualize what dress he was seeing in front of his inner eye. Not that Felicity could necessarily see a dress in the wild lines and patterns he was drawing.

Narrowing her eyes at Oliver, Felicity took a closer look at him. Oliver wasn’t sketching the way he usually did. His muscles were too tense, and the movements of his hand not at all as fluent as they usually were. It seemed like his work didn’t relax him like it usually did. It actually seemed to add to his tension.

Felicity cocked her head. Only now she realized how exhausted Oliver really looked. There were dark circles under his eyes, even darker than the ones she had seen building there these last couple of weeks while he had been working on his designs. He rarely slept during the crunch mode of his work. Today, he seemed particularly exhausted though, That was particularly striking given that he had had a meeting this morning that should have approved to all of his designs and taken most of the burden from his shoulders.

Apparently, not everything had gone the way Oliver had hoped for.

Puckering her lips, Felicity crossed her legs. She knew what helped her if she was deep in thoughts and needed some time off to clear her head. Most importantly, Oliver knew what helped her in times like that. He always did his best to tickle that many orgasms of her that she felt like her bones were made of jelly after it.

“Why don’t we call it a day?” Felicity suggested lightly. “You could cook for me while I am watching, and I will allow you to join me in the bathtub after we’ve had dinner. It’s a win-win situation for both of us and-“

“I can’t.”

It was all Oliver said at first. His voice was hoarse, and he sounded brusque. It didn’t happen often that Oliver lost the softness in his voice around her. Felicity knew it was just another proof that he was exhausted and stressed.

Just looking at Oliver, she waited for him to continue. He knew that he didn’t get away with a two-word answer here. At work, people had to dance to his tune because he was their job. That was different between them. They were equals here, and equals didn’t brush each other off this easily without an explanation.

Felicity could see Oliver watching her from the corners of his eyes. He was trying to ignore her staring, probably hoping that he would just get away with it if he had the longer breath. Eventually, he gave in with a long sigh.

“I have to work,” he explained, still not looking at her. “I have to add a new wedding dress as the highlight of the collection. Apparently, the last design isn’t special enough.”

He waved with the sketch he had made last week, the one he had been so proud of. The wedding dress was always a hurdle for Oliver as it wasn’t his strongest part of designing. That sketch had almost like drawn itself because he had been so inspired about it. That it had been rejected had to be hard on him.

Snorting, Oliver shook his head and ripped the design in several shreds. He almost chuckled darkly when he trashed the shreds. Moving his hands through his short hair, he looked at the blank page of his sketch block in front of him before he resumed with his work.

Felicity knew Oliver well enough to know that what he really needed now was time and space. When he was in that mode of his work, he couldn’t be helped. All that would help him would be a strike of inspiration, and that was nothing she could help him with.

“Alright,” she said with a soft smile. “I will grab some takeout, so we can have dinner before we are going to sign the rental contract later.”

On the tips of her toes, Felicity approached Oliver. She put a hand to his forearm in a quiet offer of comfort. It took a moment before Oliver met her gaze. She could see how hard this was on him, and he hated that he let his anger and frustration out on her.

Felicity straightened up onto the tip of her toes and brushed a kiss against the edge of Oliver’s jaw. She loved this man, loved him so much that no frustration and no moodiness would ever change what she felt for him. Sometimes, the love you had for someone just outweighed everything else. For her, it definitely was the case when it came to Oliver.

With a low sigh, Felicity turned away and headed towards the door. She wasn’t angry or mad or anything. She wasn’t leaving to make him feel bad. She’d just take a little walk to Big Belly Burgers, grab some food for them to have for early dinner and give Oliver the time and space he needed to realize that his work was fantastic even if one design had been rejected. He’d find inspiration and design something even more special.

There were like three things Felicity knew about herself with absolutely certainty. Firstly, she was a woman with an undying ambitiousness of making her mark in STEM. Secondly, if there was one thing in life that made her vulnerable, it was her fear of failing. Thirdly, no matter how much she loved a person, she would always need room to breathe and room to suffer on her own before she shared anything.

Especially that last part was something Felicity knew Oliver needed to. He needed his time and his space to process things on his own too, and that was okay. She understood it because she felt the same way. That was why she could never be angry with Oliver about it.

Hence, grabbing some burgers felt like the best solution right now.

Felicity didn’t get to reach the door though. She hadn’t even managed to slip back into her shoes when she heard quick steps approaching her. She wanted to turn around, but Oliver’s arms were already wrapping around her waist from behind, pulling her back against his chest and lifting her from the floor.

“Oliver,” Felicity squeaked, more surprised than anything else, and her squeak turned into a chuckle, “What are you doing?”

Oliver didn’t answer right away. Instead, he lowered his head to the crook of her neck and brushed his lips against her skin. It was impossible for Felicity not to melt back into his chest with an approving sound that probably reminded of a kitten’s purring. The way his lips touched her ever so gently and his stubble tickled her just felt utterly right.

“I love you,” he whispered, his lips against her lobe, “and I’m sorry.”

Felicity puckered her lips, hiding a smile, and hummed. She leaned back in Oliver’s arms, almost melting against his chest.

“Sorry?” she asked. “What could you possibly be sorry for?”

“For my charm?”

“What charm?”

“Exactly.”

Oliver snuggled his face into the crook of her neck once more and started peppering small kisses on her skin. Felicity smiled, angling her head to the side to give Oliver more access to her skin.

With one last kiss to her pulse point, Oliver lifted his head from her shoulder. His hands moved from her front to her hips, so he could turn her around to him. Their eyes met immediately. Felicity didn’t miss the exhaustion and frustration beneath the regret. Looking at him like that, she could see it with all clarity.

Cocking her head at him, Felicity lifted her hands to his face. She cupped his cheeks and brushed her fingertips through his stubble the way Oliver always loved so much. It wasn’t any different today. With a long sigh that made the tension leave his shoulders, Oliver leaned his face into her touch and closed his eyes.

Felicity held him like that for several seconds, giving Oliver the time that he needed to relax a little and let his frustration go. When he opened his eyes eventually, he looked a lot more like her Oliver indeed. Lately, he had been more like a shell of it.

Only when he opened her eyes, he looked at her like her Oliver always did. He looked relaxed and with eyes so soft that Felicity felt her stomach fluttering in the best way possible.

“I’m sorry I am… like this lately.” Oliver lifted his hands to take hold of Felicity’s wrists. His fingertips grazed against her pulse. “I am just very nervous about all of this, and it’s not something I am used to.”

Felicity nodded her head. “I know it’s hard on you, especially given how much depends on the outcome of your collection.”

“Most importantly, a lot of jobs depend on it.”

Again, Felicity nodded her head. She loved how Oliver pointed out his responsibility for the jobs of his employees most of all. Felicity was sure that part of his nervousness came from the fear of how the critics would react to his collection. Still, his priority wasn’t the reception in the media. It was keeping the jobs of all the people who had helped him to get where he was now.

“Felicity, what if I fail?”

Cocking her head, Felicity brushed her fingertips through his stubble once more. Oliver sighed, leaning his face into her touch.

“You won’t fail,” she promised him, “I believe in you.”

“I just wished that the board had that much belief in me.”

“I am actually relieved that they don’t,” Felicity replied with a chuckle, wrapped her arms around his torso and snuggled up to his chest, “because that would probably mean that they are sleeping with you too.”

Oliver chuckled, wrapping his arms around her too. He rested his head on the top of her head, causing his stubble to get caught in her hair. Felicity didn’t mind though. She just pushed her nose against his chest and breathed him in, feeling the familiarity of his scent sinking into her body and relaxing her from deep within.

“I love you,” Oliver whispered eventually, “and if the offer is still on the table, I’d really like to cook for you now.”

“Yeah?”

Felicity leaned her head back as far as possible and smiled at Oliver lightly. If her was in for cooking, she guessed that she had managed to relax him.

Oliver leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. Felicity sighed against his lips, enjoying the way her entire body started tingling at the feeling. She opened her lip and moved her tongue over Oliver’s bottom lip until he opened his lips to her touch. Their tongues met in a slow dance that made Felicity straighten up onto the tips of her toes to get even closer to him.

When their lips parted, Felicity stayed on the tips of her toes, leaning against Oliver. She moved her arms up his torso and wrapped them around his neck loosely. The fingers of her left hand moved through his hair slowly, massaging his scalp.

“You savour of cigarettes.” She cocked her head. “Did you smoke?”

Oliver pressed his lips together. “Guilty.”

Felicity smiled warmly, brushing her fingers through his hair. “Don’t let anything stress you out. You are doing great, and everyone else will see that too.”

Oliver smiled gratefully and brushed his lips against hers in another kiss. Oliver didn’t have to say it for Felicity to know that he appreciated her comfort and her belief in him as much as the fact that she always knew when he needed it. For Felicity, it felt like one of the many little things that made their relationship what it was.

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders and keeping her at his side, Oliver led her to the kitchen. With a kiss to her hairline, he let go of her eventually. While Felicity sat down on top of the counter, Oliver headed over to the fridge to see what magic he could work to quiet their hunger.

Watching Oliver getting some supplies, Felicity crossed her legs and thought about how lucky they were to have find each other. They were really good for each other. Felicity helped Oliver to believe in himself, and Oliver made sure that Felicity didn’t starve. They were a true match.

By now, Felicity had even warmed up to the thought of moving into the loft. It might not be her style, but her home was wherever she and Oliver were happy. That was all that really mattered, and she really couldn’t wait to sign the contract later today, so they had a home that was really theirs.

“Look what I have found here.” Oliver lifted a bottle of champagne from the fridge. “Champagne is made to be drunk.”

Felicity chuckled. “Don’t you think we should wait until we have signed the contract?”

“Why?” Oliver turned around, two glasses already in his hand. “Are you planning on backing out last second?”

“No.” Felicity perked up an eyebrow. “Are you?”

“Of course not,” Oliver replied, opening the bottle with a loud pop, “which is why I think that we can toast to the bright future ahead of ourselves already.”

He poured both of them a glass and handed her one.

“To us,” he said, clinking his glass with her, “and our future together.”

Felicity smiled and took a sip of the expensive liquid. It prickled on her tongue and cooled her throat. She didn’t love champagne as much as she loved wine, but she did enjoy it nonetheless. She guessed it would be good if she had a better tolerance for it.

Oliver winked at her, making her smile widen. He turned away towards the foods he had gotten from the kitchen before. He grabbed the onion and a knife, but he put both aside instead of starting to chop.

“Sara brought these over for you,” he said, reaching out to some envelopes in the spice rack. “I am sure she is lucky that she doesn’t have to be your mailwoman anymore soon.”

Felicity chuckled, taking the letters from him. “That’s the only reason we are moving in together, right?”

“Of course.” Oliver winked. “We don’t want Sara to invoice her service in arrears.”

While Oliver turned back towards the kitchen counter, Felicity looked at the letters. She hadn’t been home to her and Sara’s apartment in like a week, and she hadn’t even noticed. Officially moving in with Oliver would be easy given how much time they already spent with each other.

“Bad news?”

“Huh?”

Felicity looked up, seeing that Oliver was shooting her a look back over his shoulder. When she frowned, he nodded towards the letters in her hand.

“You aren’t saying anything, and you barely ever don’t say anything.”

Shaking her head, Felicity replied, “I was just in thought.”

She took in a deep breath and lifted the letters. Most of them were bills that she was sure could wait another week. One letter caught her attention though, and her heart actually skipped a beat when she saw who had sent it. Wayne Enterprise.

With quick movements, Felicity ripped the letter open and started reading. The more she realized that she was actually accepted for the job she had applied to, the more her heart started racing. She couldn’t say if the wild beating of her heart was a reaction to the job itself or a reaction to her surprise about being accepted for the job.

“It’s from Wayne Enterprise,” she mumbled more to herself than to Oliver. “They accepted for me a job that I applied for a couple of weeks ago when I decided to leave Kord Industries for good. I never thought that they would even consider me for the position because I wasn’t really meeting their criteria. I mean I wasn’t qualified enough which is why I didn’t even tell you. I thought it was just a shot into the void.”

Wayne Enterprise had always been among the three companies she had wanted to work for one day. Since she had been a child, this list existed. There were exactly three companies on there. Kord Industries had recently been scratched off as working there was nowhere as appealing as she had thought it would be. Queen Consolidated was great. She had learned so much in her internship there. She didn’t want to work for a company where she would always be the girlfriend of the boss’ son.

Stellmoor International was a great company, but it wasn’t anything as successful or innovative as Wayne Enterprise. A job at Wayne Enterprise, even if it was just for a couple of months, would open her every door.

“Are you going to take the job?”

Felicity was about to answer when the tone of Oliver’s voice caught up to her. He had sounded off, almost as off as he had sounded while he had still been working before. Frowning, Felicity saw that the tension had returned to his muscles. He looked stiff, and his movements weren’t as fluent as they usually were when he was chopping food.

“I’m not sure yet,” Felicity said carefully, “I won’t have as much responsibility as I have at Stellmoor International, but it’s Wayne Enterprise after all. The experience I will gain there is not comparable with anything else. They invest so much money in research. A reference of Bruce Wayne in my résumé will be worth so much.”

Wayne Enterprise was currently doing research in several fields of technology. They were working on half a dozen of projects. Some of them were so innovative that the media was calling Wayne Enterprise the one company capable of changing the world.

“You already took the offer at Stellmoor International though.”

Felicity bit down on her tongue, taking in a deep breath. It was undeniable now that Oliver was everything but happy at the idea that she might take the offer of Wayne Enterprise. He couldn’t even look at her it seemed. Felicity couldn’t say why exactly he didn’t like her to take the offer, but she knew that he really didn’t want her to. He didn’t even have to voice it for her to know it.

“I haven’t signed the contract yet.”

Immediately, Oliver’s eyes snapped towards her. Anger was written all over his face. At least his eyes seemed to sparkle with it. Felicity straightened her shoulders, looking back at Oliver.

“So, you are taking the job offer at Wayne Enterprise and move to Gotham City?” he asked, the anger now audible in his voice too. “I guess moving in together is just going to be delayed until you have had enough of Wayne Enterprise?”

Felicity bit down on her tongue even harder, and she wouldn’t be surprised if she would taste blood in her mouth. She knew now that Oliver wasn’t necessarily angry. If he was angry at all, it was coming from deep disappointment and frustration at the thought of delaying their plans to move in together. He wanted to move in with her, wanted their relationship to move forward. He wanted to take the next step.

As much as Felicity got his disappointment and frustration, she couldn’t just give in to it. Working for Wayne Enterprise was a chance she would only get once in a lifetime. She couldn’t just reject this offer, at least not before she had thought about it clearly. It was too big of a thing to refuse it easily.

Although she didn’t want to reject this offer easily, she didn’t want to give up on what she and Oliver had either. Women should be able to have it both, a successful career and a satisfying relationship. She would fight to make sure that she would have it all if that was necessary.

“We could have a long-distance relationship. We did it before and-“

“-it sucked,” Oliver interrupted her. “Just seeing each other at the weekend and spending most time of the year apart sucked.”

Felicity lowered her eyes, unable to look at Oliver. As much as she wanted to disagree with him, she knew that he was right. They had spent more than eighteen months in a long-distance relationship. They had tried to see each other every weekend, but it hasn't always worked. One time, they had spent thirteen weeks without seeing each other. Just like Oliver had said, it had sucked so very much.

If they just tried even harder, maybe they could make it work this time. Well, they could hopefully make it work better.

“I know it’s going to be hard, but we can make this work.”

“Maybe,” Oliver said, his voice now lower and softer than before, “but I don’t want to move back anymore. I want to move forward. I love you, Felicity, and I want to move in with you.”

Felicity slid off the counter top and crossed the distance towards Oliver. She grabbed his wrist, making him let go of the knife. She wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned against his chest then.

“This is a big step for me, Oliver,” she whispered, smiling sadly, “and I would really like to take it.”

Oliver’s jaws tensed as he looked at her. Although his hands were resting against the small of her back, spending some warmth to her aching muscles, his arms around her were as hard as steel. His eyes were focused on her completely. There was something cold in the expression of his eyes, but it was broken by the love shining through.

“This isn’t fair,” Oliver whispered, his voice hoarse, “this is emotional blackmail.”

Felicity pressed her lips together and rolled them into her lips. She couldn’t help but feel called out. Oliver wasn’t entirely wrong. She knew that he had trouble to deny her anything she really wanted, especially when it came to her job. He knew how much her career meant to her, and he had never done anything put supporting her.

“It’s not fair to pretend like I have never supported your career. I always supported you dreams and your plans.”

“I know you did.” Felicity nodded her head, stroking her hands up and down his chest, “and I really need you to continue supporting it once more now.”

Oliver looked at her for a long moment, sucking in another deep breath. She could see the struggle in his eyes. Deep inside, he wanted to support her. He wanted to say that it was okay if she picked the job at Wayne Enterprise because they would make it anyway.

“I can’t do that,” he said nonetheless, shaking his head. “I just can’t.”

He took hold of her wrists gently and pushed her arms away from around his chest. Felicity took a step back, bringing some apparently much needed distance between them.

Looking at Oliver now, she could see his struggle even more clearly. He wanted to stay and tell her that everything was going to be okay. He really wanted to believe that their relationship could make it through another time apart. He just couldn’t do it.

“I need some air.”

He was using her escape words, Felicity figured. Usually, she was the one saying those words when she didn’t want to talk.

Oliver looked at her for a long moment before he turned around and walked away. Felicity heard his steps distancing itself more and more. Eventually, she heard the front door opening and falling shut with a loud bang.

Felicity felt her heart sink, looking at the letter of Wayne Enterprise. She didn’t want to loose Oliver, but this offer was too good to just reject it easily. She could only hope that Oliver would see it too, even if it took him some time.

It took Felicity some moments before she couldn’t take standing in that same place anymore. She started walking up and down in the kitchen, unsure what to do. Part of her wanted to follow Oliver, so they could talk it out. She respected his need for time though. After all, she needed her time to process things on her own sometime soon.

Felicity headed over into the living area. There was just so much more space to pace up and down like she needed now. When there was nothing left to do, pacing up and down felt like the only thing to do. It wouldn’t help with the problem between her and Oliver, but it would hopefully help to ease her nervousness.

The decision she had to make was anything but easy Felicity thought to herself while she was pacing up and down like a tiger in its cage. She really wanted that job. Rejecting it would be the one mistake in her career that she could never take back. Losing Oliver wasn’t really an option for her either. He was her home, and she didn’t want to lose that.

By now, Felicity had turned so many times that she was almost dizzy. Sucking in a deep breath, she put her hands to her hips and closed her eyes. There had to be a way for her to have both. Choosing was just impossible.

When Felicity opened her eyes, her gaze fell onto the shreds of Oliver’s design sketch. She stepped towards the trash bin and picked up the torn pieces of paper until she had everything to put the sketch back together. Maybe Oliver would need this one day after all.

With designing, he had found something he loved very much. Felicity had found the same satisfaction in developing technology. They had both found something that they loved very much. Now they just needed to find a way to make their relationship work with it.

 * * *

 “Earth to Felicity.”

Thea snapped her fingers right in front of Felicity’s eyes. She flinched in response and blinked several times until she felt like she was orientated again. It didn’t help to shake off the unwell feeling the memory had left deep in her bones.

These past years, Felicity had done her best to ban all memories of Oliver from her mind. She had known that it was easier to move on if she forbid herself to think about Oliver and what had been between them. After all, not everything between them had been as bad as the end. Most of the things before it had actually been quite good.

Back in Starling, she felt like those memories were catching up to her. They were working their way through the little pieces of her heart that had been broken by the way things between her and Oliver had ended. They still hurt.

It was weird how Felicity was considered to be a genius by a lot of people, but she just wasn’t able to understand herself.

Here she was, in a city that she had hesitated to come back to after she had gotten her heart broken badly. She had told herself to focus on her friends and her job, keeping herself busy to make sure that she wouldn’t be pulled back into that dark hole she had been in when she had left Starling City years ago. Standing here, she could say that the last thing she wanted was to spend even a single second more than necessary with Oliver.

Still, her mind that kept reminding he of what she had had with Oliver distracted her from her focus. It waited until she was vulnerable and attacked her with a memory that left her shaken and confused. She didn’t even want to start with the way her libido refused to follow her head too. If she just thought about what had happened during the fitting for her dress, her stomach cramped.

The good thing was that she only had to stay strong for a couple of days. Sooner than she’d think, the wedding would be over, her deal with Queen Consolidated would be cut and dried and she could finally go back to Hub City. She just had to endure being here a little bit longer.

Sucking in a deep breath, Felicity straightened her shoulders and turned around to Thea with a smile. Thea was looking at her like Felicity was a little crazy. Given how far away in her thoughts she had been a couple seconds ago, Felicity couldn’t even hold it against Thea.

“Everything alright?” Thea asked. “You have been like a hundred miles away.”

Felicity chuckled a little nervously, gesturing around her head. “Just things going on in here.”

Thea looked her up and down intensely. She narrowed her eyes slightly like she was trying to find out if there was anything more she could find out.

“I should go now.” Felicity cleared her throat and grabbed the dress. “Thank you for this. It’s an honor to wear your design.”

Although Thea seemed to catch the sudden change in the subject, she let it pass without saying anything more. She just smiled at Felicity, happy about the warm words.

“I am happy that you like it,” she said, “and I am going to be very happy when you wear it.”

“I can guarantee you that I am not going to keep it unworn in my closet.”

“Good.” Thea chuckled and nodded towards the stairs. “I will walk you-“

When her phone started ringing, Thea stopped. Felicity chuckled, wrapping her arms around Thea in a quick hug.

“I know my way out,” she told her and kissed Thea’s cheek. “I will call you, and then we can see what we do to spend some quality time together.”

“Bye, Felicity.”

“Bye, Thea.”

While Thea was taking the call, Felicity headed back downstairs. She was relieved not to run into anyone else when she crossed the entry hall. Since she could hear Moira’s voice in the living room, talking to someone on the phone it seemed, she hurried towards the door stepped out and bumped right into Oliver again.

She didn’t even have to lift her gaze and see that it was him to know that it was the case. The smell of his aftershave mixing with the scent of his skin as well as his entire presence just told her that it was him.

“This it turning into a habit.”

At Oliver’s words, Felicity lifted her gaze to him. His face was hard although a glimpse of softness was visible in his eyes. At least it was there for a moment. Oliver looked away quickly, pulled out a cigarette from the pocket of his jacket and lit it. When his gaze caught hers briefly, whatever soft glimpse had been there before had disappeared.

“And not a good one.”

Felicity said the words just loud enough for Oliver to hear. Without waiting for his reaction, she turned around, ready to walk away. Oliver’s fingers wrapped around her forearms gently, holding her back. Surprised and angry, Felicity glared at Oliver, and he quickly pulled his hand back and lifted them as a sign that he didn’t mean any harm.

Pressing her lips together, Felicity took a step back to bring some distance between them. With perked up eyebrows, she looked at Oliver. To her surprise, he didn’t look as hard as he had before. His eyes weren’t exactly soft either, but there was regret visible there now. He was almost a little embarrassed or shy which were two words that weren’t associated with Oliver easily.

“Felicity,” he said hesitatingly and massaged the back of his neck with his free hand, “about last night…”

Felicity had to bite down on her tongue hard to push away the sudden flashes of memory. She could still feel Oliver’s hands on her skin, roaming over her body, and she could still feel his cock moving inside of her. There was no way she was going to show him any of that though.

He wasn’t the only one who could be angry after all.

“Last night was a mistake,” she said. “Obviously.”

Felicity almost believed that she could see surprise and maybe a little hurt in Oliver’s eyes. She didn’t stay long enough to be sure though. She just turned around and walked away. 

* * *

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#arrow #olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfic #we ended as lovers

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

OC Kiss Week 20 - Wisdom Save

Welcome to kiss week, everyone!

Once upon a time, my drunken master monk Zephyr lost a wisdom save to a horny hot tub in a couple’s suite she accidentally paid for, and came to the stunning, magically induced realization that her traveling companions are both incredibly hot. She handled it with her usual amount of tact and grace; which is to say, none. This is about that time. 

Featuring @kombits‘s Fàilbhe, @colonelcupquake‘s Mira and, briefly, @psychopomp-pan’s Hambone, which is a name I had to write seriously. I fear no god or man now.

 About 1800 words.

-----

The water is too warm. 

Zephyr should hate it, by all accounts. She is a creature of air after all, built for the frigid thinness of open sky; the bath that she is currently sunk into sits in a low, steaming fog of its own making, heavy with a heat that she can feel clinging to her bare neck. By all accounts, she ought to crawl out, march down the stairs again, haggle the deaf old witch at the counter back out of her five gold for an inn room that isn’t boiling over. 

Except. 

Except that she is tired. Except that she's spent the last two days on her feet, collecting an entire forest's worth of grime on her skin, in her hair. Except that the weight of the news they’ve been delivered is nearly the physical sort, a stone lashed to her ankle, and she is aching from every inch of her throbbing feet already. Floating of any kind, even in this soupy bathwater heat, feels too nice to give up just yet.

Beside her, Fàilbhe crouches on the edge of the sunken stone basin, peering down at the water like it has set up a particularly difficult problem for him to solve. He catches her eye at the corner of his own and nods down at the bath.

Is it okay?

She doesn't know how she understands exactly, but the meaning of his little nod is clear enough. She shrugs. "S'fine." 

He nods again, but his eyes narrow, still skeptical. Sidelong, Zephyr can see a host of other emotions crowding in them too; confusion, interest, a strange, quiet something that turns his eyes the color of leaves in shade. They're very nice eyes, she thinks suddenly; strange and goat-like, yes, but beautifully, brilliantly green. Her chest flutters with a pleasant little warmth.

“It doesn’t bite, you know,” a voice from across the bath says. She and Fàilbhe turn at the same time towards the other figure sunk shoulders-deep in the water with her. Hambone drapes an arm over the edge of the tub and grins. “The water, I mean. Come on Fàilbhe, it’s a bath. It doesn’t deserve all of the attention you’re paying it.”

“Jealous, are you?” Zephyr says as Fàilbhe reaches for his notebook, feeling her mouth curve into a little smile. Hambone’s grin widens, and that same strange little flutter begins in her chest again. For all of his irritating habits and his terrible nickname, there’s no denying that her kinsman is the handsome sort; long and lithe, with a curtain of white hair that flutters gently around his shoulders despite the water weighing it down. He carries a particular kind of confidence with him too, the sort that the world-trodden carry when they’ve discovered their place in the grand scheme of things. She finds herself watching the way it settles around him like a cloak, the way his bright eyes crinkle at the corners with his watching of her, the charming little turn of his smile -

Fàilbhe’s hand on her shoulder nearly makes her jump out of her skin.

Are you okay? is written in the notebook that he offers towards her with his other hand. ‘You’ is underlined three times, and she watches him shoot a daggered sidelong look to where Hambone is still grinning at the both of them across the water. A defensive fire joins the pleasant one bubbling in her chest. 

“Of course I’m okay,” she says with a sniff, straightening in her seat. Gods, she had been leaning forward, hadn’t she? “It’s just water, Fàilbhe. It’s not like to kill me. Not this time, anyway.”

Fàilbhe’s mouth twitches into the beginnings of a smile at her joke, but his expression remains grimly unconvinced. He sets his notebook aside just as she opens her mouth to reassure him a second time, and the hand that has been lingering on her shoulder suddenly reaches up and drapes itself over her forehead instead. 

An involuntary shudder passes over her spine. Fàilbhe's fingers have calluses worn into the tips, the sort that come from simple working labors; from spinning thread, braiding rope, caulking the seams of a home. They tickle pleasantly against the curve of her temple. Her ears suddenly feel like they’re burning.

“Fàilbhe,” she says, swallowing hard to keep her voice firm, “Fàilbhe, please, I’m fine…”

He ignores her, keeping his hand there for a few more long heartbeats as his eyes narrow with concentration. Then he frowns, pulls back, and Zephyr’s fraying wits get one single moment of reprieve before he leans forward again and presses a gentle kiss to her brow.

The sensible part of her recognizes the gesture, of course. Hands lain on foreheads often missed the burn of fever-heat that Fàilbhe is clearly checking for; lips pressed there usually did not. The sensible part of her knows that what he’s doing is a noble thing, a kind thing, too kind by half for all of the hell she gives him, in fact. But even the sensible part of her seems to be having trouble explaining that particular notion to the familiar warmth that is slowly beginning to creep through the curve of her belly. 

She stays perfectly still as Fàilbhe holds his lips flush against her forehead, her breath bound up somewhere in her throat. Thoughts begin creeping in, too powerful to stop: that he’s so close, that she can feel the gentle warmth of his breath against the crown of her head, that she could so easily tilt her head back, just a little, just enough to lean forward and -

He pulls back before the thought gets away from her. She wants to scream.

Feel a bit warm, the words in his book say after a moment of frantic scribbling. Zephyr just stares at him, and that heat in her stomach returns as she notices the edge of a smile on Fàilbhe’s lips. Gods, he’s teasing her.

“The bath is warm,” she sputters as soon as she can find the words, but Fàilbhe has already turned away to scrawl another note into his book. This one, he holds out over her shoulder, and Zephyr suddenly feels another presence lean down over her.

“You're feeling strange?" Mira's voice, keenly worried, cuts in from overhead. There is a faint shuffling of bare feet on stone, and then she is kneeling at Fàilbhe’s side, barely a hand’s span away. “Zephyr, is something wrong?”

She is already two steps towards settling in for the night, bereft of both her armor and her arming layers, and it's becoming increasingly difficult not to stare at the intricate maze of tattoos that weave over the rounds of muscle in her arms. Her hair, long and unbound, sticks to the dew of her steam-slick skin in wild, curling wisps, like she’s just stepped out of a fight. Zephyr feels the warmth in her stomach roar into a proper fire, twice as hot as before.

“Nothing,” she snaps. She doesn’t trust herself with anything more complicated than that. “I told you, I’m fine.”

In her periphery, Fàilbhe rolls his eyes, and her wits are not quick enough to stop him before he grabs Mira’s hand and places it firmly against her forehead. The fire cooking in her gut rockets up to meet it, scalding everything between her ears with a wild, thrumming heat, and Zephyr watches with resigned horror and delight as realization breaks over Mira’s face.

“Oh,” she says softly. “Oh, I see.”

Smiling that same near-smirk as Fàilbhe, Mira leans back and slips carefully over the edge of the tub, into the water at Zephyr’s side. Behind her, Fàilbhe’s hand slides down to her shoulder, his fingers catching painlessly in the hair at the nape of her neck. It takes every ounce of her willpower not to shudder. They’re both so close. She can feel Mira’s hand find hers under the water, feels her lace their fingers together, feels Fàilbhe lean down and press another kiss into the crown of her head, sending a trail like fire down her arm and up her back as Mira leans towards her cheek…

“Zephyr?”

The vision suddenly lurched away, vanishing like steam wiped away from glass as Zephyr shot awake. The cozy glow of candles had suddenly become a cascade of white-hot light pouring itself directly into her eyes. The plodding warmth that she had resigned herself to was suddenly smothering. Everything was at once too bright, too heavy, too real.

“Sorry!” Mira’s voice swam out of the confusing assault on her senses from somewhere on her right. “Sorry, sorry! I-I didn’t want to wake you, but…. But, well, I can’t, um…” She trailed off as if she were gesturing to something, and whatever words she had been searching for seemed to fail her altogether. Groaning, Zephyr summoned the little bit of her will she felt she could still command and forced her eyes the rest of the way open. All was a painful, stinging blur for a moment; then the stark morning light creeping over the bed receded, and she turned towards the direction of Mira's gesture.

Towards where her hand lay, clutched tightly onto the fabric of the other woman’s shirt.

A torrent of memories, hazy with the substance of a dream, pressed their way forward in Zephyr’s mind, along with a waking realization that broke across her like a cold sweat. She wrenched her hand back, horrified.

“It’s okay!” Mira said, holding out a hand as if to soothe her. Now that she was properly awake, Zephyr noticed that they were both huddled in choking plushness of the wide four poster that they had rented, with Mira propped up on an elbow a few inches away. Both of them were, mercifully, still clothed.

“What -”

“You were muttering in your sleep,” Mira said gently. “I think you might’ve been having a dream. I’m sorry, I know you don’t like to be up this early. I was just trying to get up to get tea for Fàilbhe and I...”

She made a little gesture towards the back of the room - far away, to Zephyr’s intense relief - towards where Fàilbhe was sitting up on a large pile of pillows, looking her over warily. Watching, with those same brilliant eyes...

Grunting, Zephyr yanked herself away from both of them, grabbing as many of the blankets as she could physically get her fingers around and tugging them over her shoulders.

“Go on, then,” she snapped, rolling so that her back was turned. “I honestly don’t care what you two do. Just don’t wake me up again.”

She could practically feel the fire of the looks that Fàilbhe and Mira exchanged in the silence that followed - exasperated, irritated, long-suffering at best - but once it passed, the bed beside her shifted, and she heard bare feet beginning to pad away. A few moments later, the clip-clop of hooves followed. 

They left Zephyr in bed for another two hours. She didn’t sleep at all.

#ockiss20 #oc kiss week #my writing #d&d #dnd #oc crap #the zephyr tag #the tea party trio #i've written too much sad for these guys #i figured it was time to humiliate my girl a little #fun fact for those reading: this is a lingering effect! #it's not even magical! #she's just aware that they're attractive now and has to deal with that! #aren't weird dreams about your friends fun?

[floralseokjin]

— crystallised 02 (m)

crystallised /ˈkrɪst(ə)lʌɪz/ (verb) make or become definite and clear

Six weeks, that’s all it takes to forget about the threesome you shared with your boyfriend, Yoongi, and your past...fuck buddy, Seokjin. After all, it’s no big deal. Yoongi and you are doing better than ever, there’s no reason to regret such a night shared. That is until you hear some gossip in the library one day, and then slowly, little by little, everything starts to fall apart... Can you begin to make sense out of all this confusion, or is it too late?

pairing; min yoongi x reader, kim seokjin x reader genre/warnings; love triangle (? if you can call it that, more so just a lot of confused feelings by everyone involved), college au, lots of flashbacks, smut, fluff (take it while you can), yoongi based chapter, angst…welp (sorry) words; 14,895

sequel to;  memoirs of a mistake and lostmyhead

chapters; 01 ⤑ 02 ⤑ 03 ⤑ 04 ⤑ 05 ⤑ 06 ⤑ 07⤑ 08 ✓

Roughly five months previous 

“So…uh…” Yoongi’s awkward sounding voice began by the side of you. You’d been set an individual assignment to do for the last hour of class, but no one was taking that into consideration, and the tutor hardly seemed to care that everyone was chatting away. You turned to Yoongi, watching him scratch the back of his neck. He seemed to always do that when he was nervous. Mostly when he was asked a question, put on the spot, his voice all low, bashful smile on his face… Not that you’d been paying much attention to him. 

You hardly knew him really, had started talking to him because of this class. You saw him once a week when you sat next to him for two hours. You knew of him beforehand. Min Yoongi. Captain of the basketball team with an avid interest in music. Always have his earphones in. He’d only started taking them out in this class since you two had got friendly. Friends, maybe that’s what you were. Slightly. You enjoyed his company in this shitty class and he seemed to enjoy yours. You said hi when you saw one another on campus, and he even added you on Facebook not too long ago, liking your occasional selfies sometimes. (You ended up liking his too. He had a killer selfie game…) You’d even so recently studied together in the library a few times, gotten to know one another better. You’d actually be quite sad when this year would soon be over and this class was no more. He was funny, and quiet. Scrap that, he was normal. Better than most of the guys you knew or had known around here. 

He sounded strange now though, and it caught your full attention, waiting for him to continue with a tilted head. “I was wondering if you–” He broke off to chuckle awkwardly. 

 “–erm, if you’d like to go out sometime…? I don’t know what you like…movies? Food? Both? Something different?” 

His rushed words took a little time to sink in. When they did however, you couldn’t quite make sense of anything. Your cheeks felt hot, which was unlike you. Put on the spot and indeed taken by surprise would do that to a person, you guessed. Your heart was beating a little quickly too, dropping your gaze to your books. He was asking you out? On a date? You hadn’t been on one of those in so long. Your last boyfriend had hated shit like that, and well, Seokjin wasn’t dating material. Unless, you called hooking up in his bedroom a date, then you dated quite frequently… Yeah, you didn’t think so… 

Deflecting. That’s what you did best, and weirdly nervous, this seemed the perfect time to start up again. “That’s different,” you mused, picking up your pencil to jot some notes down.  Yoongi waited patiently. “You’re asking me out on a date date? Or is it a trick?” 

“…A trick?” Yoongi puzzled. 

“My track record with dates and guys hasn’t been… the best,” you explained, unsure why you were giving him the third degree. “Is this another trick? Another excuse?” 

You managed to look up at him, one eyebrow raised. His cheeks were tinged a lovely shade of pink as he tried to fight for his words. You laughed, signalling you were only messing around and he shook his head. “No.” He insisted. “Ah, no,” he tried again, swallowing thickly. “I’m not like tha—I mean, I’m not into that…yeah…” He trailed off, giving up finally. He was just making it worse. Well, that’s what you figured he thought anyway. 

It was actually quite cute. Maybe this was a test? Your subconscious testing his genuineness. It seemed to have some kind of effect on you anyway… Yoongi was a handsome guy, but it was his bashfulness that got you, his shyness… The guy could get nervy over the smallest of things. Cute. He was cute, and he was asking you out on a date… You were the nervy one now. 

You went back to your work, pretty much shutting down the conversation, but your heart was still beating heavily in your chest. Yoongi went back his notes too, but he couldn’t sit still, pulling at his clothes and scratching the back of his neck like he had fleas. He was probably feeling like an idiot for getting turned down. You hated that. That wasn’t your intention, not really. Maybe if you really thought about it, Yoongi and you had been…flirting around lately? You were certainly more aware of his existence recently, content in his presence for those two hours a week, and the rest you’d spent studying. What did you really have to lose? Pretty much nothing. Yes, you and Seokjin were still fooling around, but that’s all it was ever going to be. He made that clear a lot, not that you were looking for more with him. Fuck no. It was just a complicated situation to be in. Thinking of the end... However, it was just one date… There really was no harm in it. 

“So,” you began as class ended and you grabbed your bag, side-eying him almost coyly. God, you were flirting. It felt kind of exciting. “When do you want to do this?” Yoongi looked almost blank, trying to make sense of the turn in events. “Take me out? Are you free this weekend?” 

He blinked away the shock, the strap of his backpack sliding down his arm as his hand went limp, and then he brightened up, the smile on his face making your heart feel weird. “I-I… Yeah, I’m free… C-can I take your number?” 

.

.

“Oh, no,” Yoongi insisted, his hand reaching out to stop yours going into your purse. Your fingers touched and you were momentarily shocked by the warmth of his skin. You blinked up at him, coming to when he pulled away to reach for his wallet in his back pocket.  “I’ll pay,” he shrugged. 

“Really?” You asked, surprised in a different way now. You’d come from the movie theatre to a little diner across the road. You didn’t have the heart to tell him you were pretty sick of burgers because you worked around the smell sixteen hours a week. Besides, you really were having way too much fun to even think about what you were putting in your mouth. 

“Unless you want to.” He backtracked, looking worried. Like he’d said something he shouldn’t. “Did I offend you? It’s just I wanted to take you out on this date so it’s only right I pay.” 

“It’s fine,” you smiled, letting him happily pay for your food. He’d already paid for the movie tickets online, so you’d just naturally taken it that you’d be splitting. 

“But Yoongi,” you nestled up to him as you left the diner, looping your arm inside his. He froze for a second, taken aback by your forwardness. Truthfully you shocked yourself too, but it felt nice, and you carried on walking, slower than before, as he waited for what you had to say.  “I agreed to come on the date, so it’s not like I was held against my will.” You laughed. “I’ll pay next time?” 

“Next time?” He repeated, reaching his car at the same time. You nodded and broke apart, stopping beside him, feeling weirdly nervous. You hoped you hadn’t assumed wrongly. That would be the most embarrassing thing ever. You’d had fun tonight, and it would be sad if that was all it was. One night. You sort of wanted more. Was that wrong? 

But no sooner had he processed your question, he was grinning.   “Right… next time. Where do you want to go? You can choose.” He offered. 

You had a lightbulb moment. “Oh, well… Actually never mind.” You shook your head before you could begin, realising it was probably a stupid idea. 

“No, come on,” he insisted, fingers wrapping around your wrist as he tugged gently. Your heart jumped. You were not used to this. Your heart only ever jumped where sex was concerned. A date to watch a movie was usually not what made your pulse quicken. But here you were, desperate for a second one. “Where do you want to go?” He looked like he was eager to do whatever it was. 

You looked down at your feet, and Yoongi’s fingers traveled to your hand, holding it loosely. You hadn’t held hands in while. You remembered you did it once with Seokjin just to freak him out, but that didn’t count because well, it was Seokjin. Your mind fleeted to him for a moment, wondering what he was doing right now… You couldn’t help it. You’d felt a little guilty when you’d told him about the date. Even though you shouldn’t, and he wasn’t even bothered… Whatever. Now wasn’t the time. 

“Well, it’s just I have two tickets at home for a textile exhibition at this museum pretty close by…but it’s tomorrow. So. Short notice.” You shrugged, easily giving him a way out if he found the idea too boring. Lina was supposed to go with you but it turned out she had to go visit her grandparents for the weekend. You could go on your own, it was no big deal, it’s just you had the spare admission. 

“No. That’s fine,” he smiled. “I can do tomorrow. What time is it?” 

“Noon.” You replied quickly, still unsure. “Are you sure? Do you like things like that?” 

He chuckled, letting go of your hand to step backwards and open the passenger’s side for you. You got in as he spoke. “Textiles is like fabric, right? Clothes?” You nodded, laughing along. He shrugged. “I like fashion a lot.” 

“That’s good then.” You suppressed your grin. You could tell Yoongi had some kind of interest in clothing by the way he dressed. No one was born with a fashion sense like that. Actually, that was one of the first things you’d noticed about him. Clothing always caught your eye. You waited until he was in the driver’s seat before you spoke again. “I major in fashion history and design.” 

“You do?” He asked, sounding instantly interested. 

“Yeah,” you lifted your shoulder casually. 

You spoke in his car for an hour before he drove you home. You used the time to get to know one another more, telling him all about the major he previously didn’t know you did. You didn’t know he majored in physical education either, but it made perfect sense. He even invited you to one of his games next month. When he bid you goodnight he insisted on getting out his car, making plans on your doorstep to meet tomorrow morning. You were driving this time. 

.

.

The exhibition date went really well. Yoongi even dressed up a little flashy. Texting you that morning to double check the dress code. You had never seen a guy suit a pair of loafers before, but there he was, looking fine as hell in them. If he found the place boring he didn’t let on, and he even helped you snap photos for your project that was due. By the end of the exhibition his fingers had found their way tightly laced with yours. You could get used to this hand holding lark, you thought to yourself.

The afternoon went by too quickly, and sadly you had to settle going for a quick coffee instead of finding a little café to eat at because you had work in a couple of hours. 

“Where do you work?” He asked, looking interested. 

You wrinkled your nose. “At Wendy’s” 

“You don’t like it?” He chuckled. Even a fool could read your expression.

“No, I love smelling like grease all day.” The sarcasm tasted funny in your mouth before you shrugged. “It’s okay. Could be worse.” 

He gaze on you lingered for a moment before he suggested something. “Wouldn’t you like to work somewhere a little more suited to your passion?” 

“I don’t know,” you said, looking down at your mug. “I have thought about it…” To get out of that burger place would be a dream. 

“Go for it.” He encouraged cutely. God. Cutely. What was up with you? It did make you giggle though. “It’ll look popping on your resume.” And then some. 

“Popping on your resume,” you repeated, high pitched and in disbelief. “What are you? A middle aged uncle trying to be hip?” 

“Shut up,” he whined quietly. 

“But thank you,” you told him, reaching for his hand across the table to give it a grateful squeeze. “I’ll bear that in mind.” Your hands stayed like that until you were ready to leave. 

He kissed you for the first time too that day. Or did you kiss him? You couldn’t really remember, it all happened so naturally. You were at your door again, both hands lightly holding one another’s as you said goodbye. This time there was no talk of a third date, but you could tell it was to be the natural progression. 

He smiled down at you. You smiled back, and then your lips were meeting. It was a brief kiss, lasting no longer than 5 seconds, but it was warm, and gentle. Had your lips tingling all night, made work more bearable. 

“You’re a really good kisser,” you told him as he pulled away, blinking a little too quickly, because you were not used to this feeling. You were not used to a small kiss making your knees weak and your head dizzy. 

“Thank you.” He smiled, cheeks round, growing pink at the apples. 

He text you just as you arrived at work, making you laugh out loud like an idiot, much to the puzzled eyes of coworkers, but you didn’t care. 

Yoongi (17:45pm) Hi  What I should have said was “you’re a good kisser too” 

You (17:46pm)  thank you why don’t you tell me that in person next time :’) 

Yoongi (17:46pm) lol  and when is this next time happening? 

That evening you actually served people with a smile, much to the astonishment of your boss. Little did he know you were imagining every customer to be Yoongi. 

.

.

Dating Yoongi was a new kind of fun. You’d never known the excitement something like that could bring. Although you were insanely sure it was because Yoongi was the guy in question. With each time you saw him, each time you messaged one another, you seemed to fall a little harder. It would be correct to say you’d never felt like this before. Your relationships in the past seemed to happen hot and fast, ended quite the same too. You were into them because you were attracted to them. Most of the time you didn’t take into consideration whether your personalities worked well together. But almost every time, you were left confused and dejected when things ended. You hid it well, but it was a little worrying to think how all your past relationships had ended so offhandedly. The last straw had been when your most recent ex had cheated on you. Nothing had made you feel more insignificant. Unwanted. 

Granted, you had rushed into the hook up with Seokjin, but that was the exact difference. It was a hook up. You’d never done that before, and while dubious at it first, it seemed like the best thing you’d done concerning guys in general. There was no stress, no worry as to if he wasn’t into you as much, because all it was boiled down to was sex. In some ways the arrangement with Jin had been a breath of fresh air. A friendship had formed, and even though you teased one another back and forth continuously, you knew he thought so too. You were unofficial friends. Unofficial friends who fucked.  

That’s why you were a little bit sad when things ended. Inevitable really. Things had been different ever since you’d told Lina. You couldn’t explain it, you’d just become more self-aware. More realistic. You couldn’t carry on this fuck buddy thing forever. It had to end sometime, and well, Yoongi showing an interest in you sped that process up. Since you’d shared that brief kiss with him there’d been some guilt tearing at your chest. With each kiss that followed it grew harder to ignore, and that was what made you acknowledge your feelings towards him in the end. You wouldn’t be feeling like this if what you and he were doing meant nothing. You didn’t want to continue this if you were still involved with Seokjin. It was unfair to both of them. You knew that. 

Although Seokjin seemed unbothered by it. Expected, but it still seemed strange to leave his apartment one last time. The sex that night has been pretty shit, your mind elsewhere, worrying and wondering how things would go. Seokjin felt alien to you now that you were a little besotted with Yoongi. The things he said, the way he acted, they seemed different all of a sudden. He realised things were off too… Maybe that’s why it felt so strange. It was over just like that, you didn’t really have much time to dwell on it. You were instantly distracted, your new relationship with Yoongi taking up every thought and feeling you had.

The guilt gone, you felt freer than ever, could fall for him as hard as you wanted. Yoongi was different to any other guy you’d dated in the past. He was sweet, keen to take things slowly, and in the end that just drove you wilder. With each kiss and hug goodbye he gave you, you were beginning to itch for more. 

“Want to come inside?” You asked him one night on your doorstep, one of his arms slung around your waist, one of yours around his neck. He’d just kissed you so painfully slow you thought you’d surely pass out, tasting hints of his tongue that you desperately needed more of. 

He’d looked a little hesitant, but there was an offer of food to go with it, and that seemed too good to pass up. He’d taken you to a gig, one of his favourite bands were playing down town, and while super fun, there’d been nothing to eat there. You were starving by the end of the night and so was he it seemed. You made him cup ramen as he stood awkwardly by your refrigerator. Adorably cute as always. 

“You live alone?” He asked. It was kind of hard not to notice the one roomed apartment. Small but cosy, you’d fallen in love with this place as soon as you’d viewed it. Your father had been quite pleased with how efficient (and cheap) the place was too, so that helped with getting your own way. You’d been desperate to move out for a while, and your parents had to let go of their baby girl some time. It wasn’t that far away from your family home though, so you didn’t have to admit you missed them quite yet, able to visit regularly. 

“Yeah I moved in not so long ago thanks to my parents.” You smiled sheepishly. You paid all the bills that came with it, but admittedly, they paid the rent. 

“Oh. I see.” He teased. “Someone’s spoilt.” 

You laughed, acting affronted. “That’s what…” You trailed off, realising who you were about to mention. Seokjin always teased you like that. You were certain, although you couldn’t be sure, that Yoongi had no clue about your history with Jin. You’d debated on whether you should tell him or not, but the timing was never right and now it seemed pointless. Besides, there was no competition. If there was a choice, you’d chosen Yoongi. As soon as you’d realised your feelings, you’d stopped things with Seokjin. Simple. 

“That’s not entirely true,” you started again, hoping your save worked. “They only pay the rent.” 

Yoongi carried on smiling, stepping closer. If he noticed something, he didn’t let on. “Fair enough. But I guess that’s why you always let me pay for stuff, huh?” 

“Lies.” You huffed, pushing his cup of ramen to him so he could take it, stopping him short of wrapping his arms around you. Which was a mistake, because you really wanted that. The flirting was fun though. “We share it as much as you let me.” He kept buying things in advance, refusing to tell you how much they were. 

You showed him to your couch where you switched on the TV, hoping this would at least persuade him to stay a little longer tonight. You were still on a high from the gig, feeling all giddy inside when you remembered how he’d held your hips from behind, rested his chin on your shoulder. You were desperate to feel his lips on yours again. He hadn’t kissed you all night. 

Once you’d finished eating, empty cups on your coffee table, you settled on watching some lame movie you’d found on one of the cable channels. You hoped as you shifted nearer to him it looked natural. You felt his gaze on you, and when you looked up, he was smiling fondly. Your heart did that fluttering thing again, but it didn’t have time to settle because he was cupping your jaw, leaning down to meet your lips. 

The kiss was quick. He pulled away to wait for your reaction like he usually did. “Finally.” You murmured. “Took you long enough.” 

He whined lowly. “We were eating. Remind me to put mints in my pocket next time.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Like I care about that.” You’d taste the same in the end. That seemed to do the trick anyway, and soon he was kissing you again.

He was slow at first, like he usually was, but this time it wasn’t a kiss goodbye. It was just a kiss. A kiss you’d been longing for. For a while. His tongue swiped against your bottom lip, like it had many times before, but this time he didn’t just stop it at that. He didn’t just stop it when your tongue brushed against his, stealing hints like you did usually. This time he pushed deeper into your mouth, his hands gripping your face tighter, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. 

It grew hot fast, your mind clouded instantly. No matter how long you’d hoped for this, you still weren’t ready, finding it hard to keep up with his constant change in motions. He kept switching from rampant presses of his lips against yours to wide strokes of his tongue. One of his hands moved to your side, gently squeezing and stroking the skin over your clothing.

“Yoongi,” you breathed, voice shaky when he pulled away to catch his breath. You were about a second away from climbing on top his lap, needing to feel his body against yours somehow, but like minded he began to settle you down into the sofa, following suit as he pushed his body into yours, meeting your mouth again. 

This was even better. The feeling of his weight on top of yours as he ran his hands down your body carefully. The eagerness of his mouth and tongue. You clung to him, hands sliding down his back, one slipping under his hoody because you couldn’t help yourself, feeling the smooth skin of his back under your fingertips. 

You were both out of breath, but he sounded so sexy, each exhale getting more and more laboured, almost panting against your mouth. You panted too, but each one ended in a sweet sigh and it seemed to drive him wild, tongue licking more determinedly, desperate to make you continue. When he groaned in the end, you couldn’t help but circle your hips into his, the heat between your bodies driving you wild, and that’s when you felt his erection against your inner thigh. Your hand slid out from under his hoody, pushing down against his hip instead, desperate to feel more. He gave it to you in the form of a grunt, grinding down against you. 

Something changed that night between you. You’d never been so sure of your feelings.  

.

.

“Are you going to make me cum still dressed?” You laughed weakly, pulling away from Yoongi’s mouth but still unable to stop grinding into him. You’d been making out for what felt like hours, Yoongi underneath you, straddled on your couch, where he was most nights since you’d invited him in the first time. 

He didn’t reply, just gripped your ass, pressing you down on his hard on. It only reminded you how wet you were, underwear sodden, stuck to your core. You ached for some type of release, and if he kept this up, you’d cum soon. You couldn’t take much more, skin hot and sticky, uncomfortable. 

“Yoongiii,” you whined into his mouth, sounding desperate. You hoped it would work. This had been the usual set up for a week or so. Practically dry humping like a pair of hormonal teenagers. It seemed to get worse every time. Sick of only feeling his dick, you wanted it inside you instead. 

He pulled away from your mouth slowly, something in his eyes that told you he was unsure of something. When he spoke, you realised why. “You’re…you’re not still hooking up with Jin, are you?” 

You were shocked to say the least, but you quickly realised how stupid you had been to think Yoongi had no clue about your past. Suddenly, Seokjin and you seemed like a dirty little secret. You panicked. Already fighting over words to try and explain everything but stopped yourself. He deserved the simple answer. At least, for starters.  

“No,” you shook your head slowly, weaving your fingers into his shirt, looking down at him. “I ended that a little while ago.” You really needed to say more. It wasn’t enough. “Yoongi, I—”

“Good.” He cut you off, your mouth open in surprise, but before you could close it again, he was kissing you. Harder. Faster. Hands trailing down your body, slipping under your top, pawing at your clammy skin. “God, I want to feel you so bad.” 

You moaned immediately. His words what you’d been longing to hear for a while. Up until now, the erection was the only real sign that had told you he was into you. Words never seemed to be his forte, but you took that as him just being quiet. However maybe he’d been worried about what type of relationship you had with Seokjin instead. 

“Say my name again,” he asked into your mouth, one hand gripping your ass, kneading the flesh. Your head was a little thrown. You’d gone from horny and desperate to guilty, back to horny and desperate. You knew maybe deep down you should try and at least talk about the Jin thing, but Yoongi seemed like he couldn’t care less now that you’d given him a straight answer. Like he’d needed that confirmation and now everything was fine. 

“Yoongi.” You gasped, giving him his request. “I want you too.” 

“Cum first.” Your body jolted as his command. Woah, okay. Where did that come from? He pulled away from your mouth to smile a little, but he was out of breath, each exhale shaky and he jerked into your touch when you ran your hands down his chest, shuffling closer.

“Cum like this. You’re nearly there. I want to see your face.” He rasped, nudging his hips into yours. It really wouldn’t take you long. You’d worked yourself up all night. Longer than that even, and Yoongi was super hard. His dick rubbed against your core every time you circled over him, getting yourself off on his body as he watched. He stayed silent after his little outburst, which was hotter than you expected, and soon, under his gaze, you came. It was hard and fast, your body almost shivering as you lifted from him, fingers digging into his sides. It was one of those orgasms that were an odd mix between satisfying and frustrating. Satisfying because it knocked you for six, but frustrating because a) you’d given it to yourself, and b) you wanted Yoongi more than ever now. 

“Shit,” he muttered as your hands raced for his fly, unzipping him clumsily. You were acting with a buzzed mind, desperate and impatient. You needed to see him, get your hands on him. You needed to feel his dick in your hand. “Aw, y-yeah,” he panted when you finally did, jutting into you, desperate for some friction. 

“Yoongi, you’re so hard,” you murmured, looking at him with your mouth parted slightly. He was so hot and solid against your palm you wondered if it was painful in any way. It just made you want him more, owning the fact you’d made him this hard. 

“Gonna explode,” he strangled out with a weak chuckle, eyes fluttering downwards as he watched you rake your fist over him. “God.” He groaned, digging his fingers into your hips. “Can we? I mean,” he shook his head, correcting himself. “You want to have sex?” 

You could have screamed yes from the rooftops, nodding your head widely. “Took you long enough,” you whined, wrapping your arms around his neck as you moved closer, letting him tug your shorts down. His hands squeezed at your ass, fingers hooking under your underwear to pull that down too, and you worked together to wiggle and kick them down your body and onto the floor. He pushed you back so he could get a look between your legs, satisfaction audible as he began to rub two fingers across your folds. 

No. You were going to blow up if you didn’t feel him inside you immediately. You couldn’t take much more, especially as you felt his dick graze against your core, making you physically ache. “Condom?” You rushed out, looking down at him, shaking him slightly. “Do you have a condom?” 

“Back pocket, back pocket.” Words jumbled out of him, just as impatient, and you practically lunged behind him, hand grabbing for his wallet clumsily as he tried to hover, letting you reach. “Fuck,” he grunted in frustration as you struggled. It would definitely be easier if you broke apart for a moment, but that didn’t seem possible, and finally you fished the leather out of his pocket, opening it and searching for the little foil packet. You found two, grinning at him. “You came prepared.”

He gave you a sheepish smile but was too horny to let your teasing embarrass him, his hands falling to his crotch to tug his jeans down. Excited, you grabbed a condom and ripped it open, bringing it to his dick. “Ready?” 

He nodded as you slipped it on, cupping your face to pull you closer. He kissed your mouth gently. “If I cum immediately I swear I can go again. Just give me ten minutes.” 

“Yoongi,” you whined weakly as he chuckled.

“What? It’s true,” he grinned, wrapping his hands around your waist to lift you up and align you with his dick. “Now, quit making me wait any longer.”

You scoffed in disbelief. “You’re the one that made us wait.”

He kissed you again, smiling into your mouth before you broke apart. “You can’t rush a good thing.” Your heart fluttered, smiling too. That seemed about right. The longer you’d waited, the happier you’d gotten. Your face may split in half from all the grinning, still there when he slowly stretched you out, never taking your gaze off one another. 

“You good?” You asked breathlessly, once he’d bottomed out, chests rising up and down in sync. 

He hummed, closing his eyes for a moment. “Feel like I’m in heaven.” 

“Wow, cringe,” you rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck as you began moving. 

Yoongi made no attempt to speak again, but at this point it didn’t throw you anymore. His silence still made you wet, still got you hot, and by the way he was looking up at you as if you owned his entire world, that was enough. He came in a sweat, arms wrapped tightly around your middle as he stiffened, panting loudly together. When he came to, he tugged at your top, words blending into one another, voice low. “I need to get you out of these clothes.” 

Forty-five minutes later you found yourself wrapped inside your sheets in bed, sticky with sweat and out of breath. Yoongi really wasn’t joking around when he said he could go again. It felt nice to lay beside him, your head on his chest as he played with your fingers, and in the comforting silence, you felt the urge to apologise. 

“Yoongi,” you began, spreading apart from him so you could see his face. He looked at you questioningly. “I’m sorry I never told you about Seokjin.” In hindsight, that seemed like a terrible idea on your end. Yes, maybe Seokjin and you were nothing serious, but that still didn’t mean you should’ve kept it a secret. It should’ve been the first thing you’d told him. 

His expression softened, hand reaching to brush through your hair lightly. “You didn’t really need to,” he shrugged. “Pretty much everyone knew.” His casualness relieved you a little, but if you really thought about it, that made it worse because he knew that you were staying silent. Not that he seemed to mind. You heard him chuckle, pulling you out of your thoughts. “I saw you together at that party once, remember?” 

No wonder everyone knew. How had you been so oblivious? What would people think now? You’d gone from one guy to another. No, you couldn’t think like that. What did it matter anyway? Who cared what people thought. You knew the truth. “What party?” You wondered, curious as to why he seemed so amused. 

You couldn’t even remember what party he was referring to, but he seemed a little sheepish as he shrugged, a smile playing on his lips.  “It’s nothing.” 

“No, c’mon,” you urged, rolling back into him. You were interested now, wanting to recall that night. It couldn’t have been bad if he found it funny. “Tell me,” you grinned as he wound his arms around your waist, squishing you into his warmth. It was hard not to kiss him outright. But if you did that, you’d just get distracted, and you were trying to do the right thing here and talk. 

He lifted his shoulder again, but gave in. “It’s just I went to get you a drink that night. I saw you on your own.” You frowned, trying to rack your brains. “And right as I was coming through the doorway you came whizzing out. Straight upstairs.” He laughed at his own misfortune, making sure to look you in the eyes as he finished. “You came down with him half an hour later…”

Oh. You remembered now. That was the night Seokjin insisted you fuck him in a closet. How could you forget that Yoongi had been there? Thinking back, the memories became clearer. You had liked what Yoongi was wearing that night. You’d said hi to him. Did he ever say hi back? If he saw you that night with Jin, you couldn’t really recall, and now you felt bad…

“I’m sorry,” you winced, pulling a face. It was lame, but you meant it. 

“No, don’t be,” he shook his head, smiling. “It’s kinda funny.” It made you feel better to know that he wasn’t bothered by the past. “Doesn’t matter now anyway,” he added, your heart stopping when he kissed you. You got lost for a moment, just enjoying the way his mouth felt against yours. You really could kiss him forever and never get bored. “I can’t believe this actually happened though,” he admitted when he pulled away, your noses rubbing together slightly. 

God. When had you ever felt this content? It was a foreign feeling, one you had never felt before, and deep down you knew you owed it to yourself to be truthful. You were sometimes so scared of being happy and just letting yourself feel, that opportunities past you by. You didn’t want Yoongi to pass you by. You wanted him to stay. He was a good guy. 

“Yoongi…” You began, voice slightly shaking with nerves. He tilted his head, a hand playing up your back. You took a deep breath. “I like you. A lot.” You had never been so honest in all your life. You could hear your heart thudding inside your chest. You didn’t give him a chance to reply, already freaking out. “Is that scary? It sounds scary.” 

“No,” he exclaimed, moving to cup your face. “No, why would it be scary?” He chuckled.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, voice small. It was scary because you had just confessed your feelings. It was scary because he may not like you back. It was scary because it didn’t seem real. It was scary because this was all new… You could go on, but for some reason, you couldn’t tell him all that. 

“It’s not scary at all,” he insisted. “It’s brilliant, because I like you too.” Your eyes widened, still unable to get your hopes up, but he carried on and it was getting harder and harder to stay pessimistic. “More than a lot. Just wasn’t sure you liked me back,” he smiled. “Now I am.” 

He found your lips again. You got lost once more. This was really happening. Everything really was working out. “So, what does this mean?” He asked eventually, when you were out of breath from all that kissing. “We’re dating?” 

“I thought we were dating this whole time,” you said, voice small. Dates meant dating, right? That’s what you’d been doing for weeks. 

He smiled and nodded, like he’d needed confirmation. “We were. Okay, so…” He raised an eyebrow. “We could make it official? Boyfriend. Girlfriend.” 

“I’d like that.” You’d more than like that. You could probably keel over from how happy you were right now.

“I’d like that, too.” Another kiss. This time he flipped you on your back, rolled on top of you. Once again you were getting sticky under your sheets, out of breath and pulsing with desire. “You know what else I’d like?” He hummed, running a hand down your stomach, hair a little messy from where you’d run your fingers all through it. “To taste you…”

That was the night you found out Yoongi had been blessed by the pussy eating god. You came fast, in a daze, legs shaking, wondering how you’d lucked out so good. Yoongi was a little worse for wear. It turned out going down on you really got to him too. He was hard again, dick brushing between your legs and he whined in your ear, annoyed with himself. “I really wish I’d carried more than two condoms with me.” 

You giggled, reaching for his tongue, tasting yourself. “It’s okay.” He let you roll him over easily, watching you curiously. He looked good in your bed, you thought to yourself. If you had your way, he’d never leave. You smirked. “How about I return the favour?” 

You’d never really considered yourself a nostalgic person. The past was the past for a reason, and you rarely let yourself get caught up in memories. However, that was changing now. It had been three days since the party and three days since you’d seen Yoongi. You were too scared to message or call him, especially because he hadn’t made any attempt to either, and you’d grown sick of religiously checking your phone every few minutes. You didn’t want to assume you were over, especially because there had been no argument involved, but you had a bad feeling in your gut, and with the radio silence, all you had were your thoughts. 

All you had was time to think about how good things had been and now wondering what went wrong? Nothing made sense. Why would Yoongi suggest such a crazy thing? Another threesome? It seemed so absurd, so unneeded. You’d been so happy for these past few weeks, ever since…  Maybe you were stupid. You’d been a little deluded, thinking what happened between you, Yoongi and Seokjin was a good thing. Unconventional yes, but it had seemed to work… There had been no consequences. Until now… 

Now, the first point of call was to blame yourself. Thinking back to the beginning of your relationship with Yoongi, everything had been perfect. You replayed the memories over and over before bed at night. Yes, he wasn’t what you were used to, and sometimes he was hard to read, but you never questioned his feelings towards you. You’d never questioned yours either. You’d just questioned your compatibility. Sometimes it felt like he didn’t get you. Sometimes it felt like something was missing. Was it a sexual thing? 

So what if he liked to stay silent? So what if you didn’t have sex as often as you were used to? It seemed silly now to know you’d felt that way. It was the most minuscule problem in the world, but somehow you’d found yourself comparing everything to how it was with Seokjin. Or at least the sex. Because that’s all you and he ever had been. Maybe you could try and blame him? Seokjin was the one who’d messaged you that night, but it just felt wrong to place all the responsibility on his shoulders. You hadn’t ignored him, you’d played along, and you’d enjoyed it. 

But why had Yoongi said yes? You shouldn’t blame yourself if he agreed to the threesome, if he’d enjoyed himself. Because he had. He was different that night, but it felt natural. Like he’d been holding back on you, and things had changed. Afterwards, you were happier than ever. You were closer. The sex got better, and even though you both outright didn’t acknowledge the threesome after that, you were on the same page. But that night was supposed to have been a one off. 

So you guessed you weren’t on the same page because he’d tried to make it happen again. Why, you were stumped. It made you question everything. You had no desire for a repeat. You were under the impression Yoongi and you were working towards something more serious. This was the longest relationship you’d been involved in. An actual relationship. Where you labelled it just that. How could you have been so wrong? There was no other explanation. The first threesome had happened when you were both maybe feeling the uncertainty of a new relationship, but to ask for a second when you thought you guys were as fine as ever was a blow your heart couldn’t handle. Especially because you had no explanation from his end.

Yoongi was supposed to be different to the other guys you’d been with in the past, but right now you weren’t so sure. You were lost, relationships like this over your head. You didn’t know how to handle it. You didn’t know how to solve it. You’d always looked at Yoongi for some direction, but now he was nowhere to be seen… 

That’s why you were so relieved when he turned up at your door a day later. Any anger you had at him for pretty much ignoring you dispersed as soon as you saw his face. It was a little pathetic, but you didn’t care. 

“Hey,” he greeted you. A tiny sheepish smile tugging at one side of his mouth, hands in his front pockets. “Can I come inside?”

You nodded quickly, stepping back to let him in. You were still a little shocked to see him, honestly about to hit the hay and call it a night not moments before even though it was only 7pm. Classes had been shitty today, and it was getting pretty difficult pretending things were okay between you and Yoongi when it came to Lina. She still had no clue about your threesome, so you couldn’t very well confide in her now. Besides, she was on cloud nine after going on a date with the guy she’d met at the party, so you didn’t want to be a downer.   

“I’m so, so sorry,” Yoongi started immediately as he shut the door. For a moment those words scared you. Were they a I’m sorry but it’s over kind of apology, or I’m sorry, please forgive me? You stayed silent, not really trusting your own voice. He continued. 

“About everything. The other night. The awkward, stupid predicament I put you in.” He raised his hands to his head, tugging at his grey beanie. He sounded sorry at least. The dread left you a little. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. Almost immediately.

He shook his head, insisted. “No, it’s not.” 

“Yoongi.” You stepped closer to him. “I’m just glad you’re here…apologising.” And you were. For days you thought you wouldn’t even have that. You were scared things would just fizzle out without an explanation. That’s how things usually went for you. The relief flooding through your body right now was something you’d longed for. 

“I was really, really drunk,” he said, stopping and starting as he hovered like he couldn’t relax. “I lost my head a bit, and I’m embarrassed.” He couldn’t look you in the eyes, and you felt bad for him, reaching for his hand. He stopped in his tracks, finally his gaze flickering over your face. “I didn’t know if you wanted to see me. You didn’t message me, so I…” 

“I didn’t think you wanted to see me.” 

“No, what?” He sounded guilt-ridden, his hand squeezing yours. That was the first bit of physical reassurance he’d shown you. “Please don’t ever think that.” 

“You said you didn’t want me to go with you.” Your voice was small, and now it was your turn not to look him in the eyes. To feel unwanted wasn’t something you enjoyed, regardless if you were imagining it or not. 

“I know,” he murmured. “That’s just because I felt awful over everything.” 

That did make sense. He was embarrassed because of what happened. You would be too. But still… You didn’t really have a clear enough explanation. He was very drunk that night, yes, but why was his first thought to proposition Seokjin and you? It was really out of character. It didn’t make much sense. Why he’d want a redo if you were happier than ever… You could question him more. Or at least try to, but what use would that do? His apology was sincere anyway, you could tell that. You knew him. Pressing for a logical reason probably wasn’t the best thing to do. You just wanted to forget about it. Move on and pretend it never happened. 

You stretched a smile across your face. It wasn’t fake. It was just a little hard to do. “That’s okay then.” 

He looked over your face, like he was trying to read your expression. He must’ve seen something he was hoping for because slowly he wound his arms around your middle, smiling softly. “I’m sorry for leaving you there. With him…”

The distaste in his voice took you by surprise. Yes, it seemed like he and Seokjin weren’t the biggest fans of one another, Yoongi had tried to fight him after all a few nights ago, but like he said, he was drunk. You really weren’t expecting the outright disdain. Maybe because you never really spoke about the other guy, and more so because Yoongi had been the one to suggest a repeat. He couldn’t have it both ways. That just didn’t make sense. 

“It’s fine,” you reassured him, wanting the awful experience just to be over. There was no point keeping it going. What good would it do? “Seokjin and I talked for a bit. He’s okay with it,” you shrugged offhandedly. 

“It’s not really fine though, is it?” He persisted. “Nothing happened, did it?” Your heart stopped. What did that mean? Was he asking you if something happened between the two of you? The near kiss popped into your head. If it was even that. Seokjin had intercepted it so well you couldn’t be sure if you’d even tried in the first place. You hadn’t wanted to kiss him, you’d just been upset that night. Seokjin had been nothing but a friend. For the past couple of days you couldn’t even let yourself think about him anyway, too distracted with Yoongi and your relationship near to tatters. 

“He wasn’t a dick to you?” Yoongi continued, confusing and easing you at the same time. He wasn’t asking you if anything happened, but he was making stupid assumptions. 

“What? No,” you chuckled awkwardly. “He’s not like that. He’s…” You stopped yourself from sticking up Seokjin. What good would it do? It was pretty irrelevant. It had nothing to do with Yoongi and you. Nothing to do with your relationship. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s just forget about it,” you shook your head, hooking your arms around his neck. 

It was strange. You’d resolved things but it still felt weird. Yoongi was acting strange, not like him, and you damned the evening you’d ever agreed to go to that stupid party. It had fucked everything up and it wasn’t fair. You just needed to forget it ever happened. Murmuring his name you kissed him firmly, wanting to distract him. Make things better. It took him a moment to kiss you back, but once he did that didn’t matter anymore.  

“I missed you,” you told him as you broke apart, tilting your head. 

He viewed you once again, gaze lingering, reading you. It was like he was searching for something, a reaction from you. When he smiled and reached for your lips again on his own accord, you felt like you’d passed whatever silent test he’d created. You didn’t care anyway, not when you were in his arms. 

“I’m sorry again,” he said when you began dragging him to the sofa. “It’s okay if I stay?” He asked, when the back of your knees hit the cushions. 

“Of course!” You exclaimed, pouting. “Unless you want to leave…” 

He laughed and shook his head, popping down and tugging you with him. You relished each tug of his mouth, each swipe of his tongue. His arms still wrapped around your body, holding you to him. Your hands slipped under his hoody, wanting to just feel him. Just to feel close in any way possible after you’d been so sure it was over. 

He stopped you soon after that, wrapping his fingers around your wrists. “Hey, wanna just lie here?” He asked softly, kissing your forehead. 

You nodded. “Yes, please.” To be honest, whatever he thought you were trying to do had been wrong. You were just content with cuddling him, being close in other ways. Kissing and feeling were enough, just to remind you that you guys were okay and happy. He’d probably mistaken your wondering hands, no big deal. 

“Tell me about your day. What you’ve been up to these last few days…” He hummed as you laid your head on his chest, one of his hands playing with the ends of your hair. 

And you did. You talked for so long it reminded you of the start of your relationship where you were just getting to know one another. You spoke for so long you began to get sleepy, eyes feeling heavy and droopy until you were practically asleep. You could tell he’d nodded off too, and you couldn’t wait to follow, but then your brain betrayed you. In the silence it had time to start up again. You were doing an awful lot of thinking lately. 

You should’ve felt happy. At ease now that Yoongi and you had made up, and while yes, you’d spent the evening catching up and acting like usual, something still felt off. You were on edge for some reason, and you hated it. You’d never felt on edge with Yoongi. But now you were impatient, waiting on something you didn’t know. Didn’t understand. Why did your relationship seem stagnant already? Like you’d come to a stand still. Hit an imaginary wall. You’d been together for a few months, shouldn’t things have gotten to the next level by now? Feelings should have grown to their full capacity. You were sure of it, but they seemed to be lying dormant instead. There were no love confessions, no sappy words. In all honestly, that confused you. Like you were expecting something that didn’t seem to be coming. Maybe in the deepest part of your mind this felt like a waste of time. 

You’d felt like this once before. Not earning for more, just bored with what you had. With Seokjin. This feeling right now. It was just like how you’d felt before you began dating Yoongi. Impatient for no reason. Bored and dejected. That scared you. It scared you more than anything. Yoongi was the one. You were sure of it. So why did you feel like this? Why were you letting yourself think of Seokjin right now? 

He hadn’t crept into your mind for so long. Not since the Sohee thing anyway. The library incident had messed with your head, but even after last weekend, you still ploughed on, too preoccupied with your relationship to think about how much you’d enjoyed his company as he’d talked to you and walked you home the night of that party… How surprisingly it wasn’t awkward, despite the last time you’d seen him, the last time you’d slept together… How much his reassurance had comforted you when he’d told you there’d been no one else since Sohee. Just you. You. Seokjin and you. 

What you and he had was once upon a time a friendship. A fucked up one, but it was still a friendship. You hadn’t realised what you would be throwing away once you ended things and got serious with Yoongi. What would’ve happened if you’d never given Yoongi a chance? If you’d never gone on that date? Would you still be hooking up with Jin? Or would it have fizzled out? Maybe he would have been the one to end things. The thought made your heart feel weird. It was getting dark outside now, and with the night brought even more confusion. You could hear Yoongi’s faint breathing, feel the way his chest moved under your head, but now your mind was running away with you. 

It wasn’t Yoongi. It was Seokjin. You wondered what it would feel like to have him hold you like this. It would have to be the twilight zone, but just imagine. When he’d hugged you the other night it had felt nice. It made all your memories with him flood to the front of your brain. Like you said, you had never been a nostalgic person, but something was changing. Everything was changing. Without your agreement, and you didn’t know how to stop it. No matter how hard you wanted to… 

Things continued to feel off for a couple more weeks. On the outside looking in, Yoongi and you looked the same as you had for months. You hung out at one another’s apartments, met up for lunch on campus, held hands, but… You still had the incomplete feeling in your chest. Something was missing. You just didn’t know what. When had everything turned so stale? Like you were just going through the motions, and this time you couldn’t try to blame yourself. In fact, you were trying really hard to get things back on track. It was Yoongi that seemed to be resisting. 

“Yoongi,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around him tighter, attempting to pull him closer. To meet your lips. 

“Mhm,” he hummed against you, not even bothering to kiss you back as his hands slide down your naked body to grip your hips. “Turn around, baby.” He said, lips brushing down your chest before he turned you over. You would have preferred to stay as you were, to see his face, to be able to kiss him, but you couldn't find it in you to complain, not when it felt so good, pleasure clouding your mind. 

“Yeah, that’s more like it," he grunted as you got on your knees, hearing the moan tear from the back of your throat when he slid back inside you. He spanked your ass lightly before grabbing the flesh, thrusting into you harder. “Yeah, you like that." Your noises encouraged him, drilling into you faster.  Your orgasm was close, and you clenched your eyes shut, face pressed into the pillow as it hit you. 

“Always so good for me,” he groaned, not taking long to finish now that he could feel you squeezing around him. He came inside you, pulling out of you quickly. You felt instantly empty. A little cold too, as he touched your back, motioning for your attention. “Wanna clean up first or should I?” 

“You can,” you mumbled, twisting your head to see him already grabbing his sweatpants and making his way to the bathroom. 

That was it? No kiss? In fact, it seemed like you were always initiating the kissing these days. Ever since the party and the make up things had changed. It was so subtle maybe you wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t already feeling iffy. Apologises were meant to make things better not worse, else what was the point? Tonight was the first time Yoongi flat out hadn’t kissed you after sex. Usually there were a few shared after the come down, a cuddle and some pillow talk. Not escaping to the bathroom first chance he got. Did he realise how shit that made you feel? Like you weren’t worried already… 

You were still lying there when he came back, lost in thought but too scared to bring it up. Expressing feelings didn’t seem to be your forte, and that was okay when you were both on the same page. Now it seemed like one of you had lost it. But you didn’t know which one. 

“Your turn,” he said, in his defence a little lighter than previously, a slight smile on his face as he jumped into bed. He turned to face you, running his hand down your arm, and thankfully he kissed you. It was only small, but it was enough. Maybe you were being stupid. Worried for nothing, expecting too much. “Quick,” he urged. “You’ll get cold butt naked like that.” You giggled and listened, sitting up to grab your pyjamas. 

When you came back from the bathroom, Yoongi was curled up on his side, face hidden by the covers. You quietly crept over to the bed, full intentions of just getting inside too and curling behind him, but that was easier said than done. You wanted to just talk with him and it was still early. Ask him how his day had been. You didn’t have much time earlier, he was getting you naked before you could wonder how he was. Yeah, pillow talk would be nice. Especially now that you were feeling happier. 

“Yoongi,” you whispered, hands on his shoulders. You waited in the silence. “Yoongs.” You sung quietly, shaking him a little. 

He groaned, voice sounding muffled by the pillow. “What do you want?” 

You lifted your shoulder, kissing his cheek. “To cuddle…talk…”

“I’m tired,” he sighed. 

You nuzzled into his neck as best you could, wrapping your arm around his middle. You knew he was exhausted after practice, but what you wanted him for wouldn’t take a lot of energy. “I just want to cuddle you.” You hoped you sounded cute. 

“Please stop being so annoying.” 

It had the opposite effect. Maybe he didn’t mean to sound curt, but you couldn’t help but take it the wrong way. You pulled away from him instantly. “You think I’m annoying?” You asked. “Thanks.” You didn’t want the wobble in your voice, but it was there anyway.  

“Oh, come on,” he exclaimed, turning to face you, immediately sensing the tone to your voice. “Don’t get mad over that.” He had the nerve to sound bemused, like he couldn’t understand why you were so offended. You turned your back to him, staring at the opposite wall, trying to ignore the buzz in your head. Confrontation was a new one for you guys.  

You felt him move closer, the mattress dipping. He said your name. “Of course you’d be annoying if you’re trying to keep me awake.” 

That didn’t cut it. It wasn’t just the comment. Under normal circumstances it wouldn’t have even bothered you. He’d probably called you annoying before, but tonight it was different. There was a weight to his words. Another meaning. The fleeting hope you’d had earlier was now torn to pieces. Nothing had changed. Well, something had changed. That was the issue. Everything you’d built together was slipping away. You couldn’t ignore it any longer. 

You twisted around suddenly, sitting up to stare at him. “You know, if you were so tired you could’ve just not come over tonight.” 

He frowned, shaking his head as he laughed in disbelief. It made you angrier. He probably thought you were overreacting. “Or, better yet. How come you’re too tired to talk and just lay with me but not too tired to have sex with me?!” 

Your apartment was beginning to feel suffocating. The words were out, you couldn’t take them back. Yoongi and you had never had an argument. Not in all these months. Now you were on your second in just two weeks. You were scared because all the worries you’d had lately were spilling out of you. You couldn’t stop them. You hadn’t even let yourself think them properly, so it was just as eye opening for you as it was for him. You were shocked at yourself. 

He stared at you, expression hardening. For a minute you thought maybe he was about to help you out. To explain why things had felt so different since the party, but instead he shot you down. “It’s not that deep.” He sighed, two arms folding behind his head as he leant against the headboard. “You’re overthinking everything.” 

“No, don’t do that.” You said flatly. He refused to look at you. “Don’t make it seem like I’m the problem?” You would not have him make you believe you were just imagining all this. Why couldn’t he just acknowledge something was up. You hated pretended, and that’s exactly what he was doing right now. 

“You’re the one making the problem!” He exploded, raising his hands up in the air in bafflement, but still making sure to keep his voice down. That just infuriated you even more.  “We can talk tomorrow. What’s so urgent? Fuck.” He kicked back his head as he cursed, this time a lot louder. The bed frame shook a little. 

You were shocked by his outburst, but did he really not understand at all? Why was he pretending nothing was wrong, when he knew more than you. He was the one who had changed. He was the one acting so strange, doing things out of character. This wasn’t the relationship you once had. Why couldn’t he admit that? What had changed and when? 

The silence ballooned around you and then you were speaking again. Your words heavy, sinking. “I feel like you’re only into me when we have sex.” Your heart was beating with the realisation. Now that you were letting it out, it wouldn’t stop. This was how you felt. Since when? You had no clue. 

Yoongi stared at you like he couldn’t believe it, but you stayed calm, not breaking eye contact until he scoffed and looked away. “Now you’re turning it on me.” 

“How?” You demanded. He couldn’t be outright ignoring your feelings.   

“I’m only into you when we’re having sex?” He wondered, but you didn’t think it was a question he wanted you to explain. He was visibly agitated now, words cramped like he was trying quickly to get them out. “If I remember correctly I thought I wasn’t enough for you.” 

“What the hell?” You cried, shocked by his accusation. “Yoongi…” Where had he gotten that from? 

“Are you never happy?” He wasn’t listening, nor stopping. There was a bite to his voice you’d never heard before. It contorted his face. Made him look different. “Even after everything. Even after fucking both me and him.”  

The room was spinning. Your head dizzy. Yoongi’s words swirling around unable to stop. You couldn’t speak. He saw that, eyes widening as his expression softened. “I’m sorry.” He realised what he’d said, but it was too late. The damage was done. “I didn’t mean that. Shit,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing his face with his palms. 

You couldn’t be here. Near him. Not when he’d said such an insulting thing so flippantly. It made you feel gross. Like what you’d done had dirtied you. Is that what he really thought? Almost like you were greedy, uncaring, immoral. 

You bolted. There was no where for you to go, apartment so tiny there was only one room you could hide. The bathroom. “No. Wait—” He tried to stop you, reaching out, but you didn’t give him a chance to. “I didn’t mean—”

His voice became muffled when you slammed the door shut behind you, visibly shaking as you pressed your back up against it. You couldn’t make out why you were so upset. Your head was a mess. He’d stayed quiet for so long, and for what? Had he always thought like that? When did he get so resentful? When he’d said those words they were filled with bitterness. How was that possible? After everything that had happened two weeks ago? You needed answers. You deserved answers.  

You were storming out of the bathroom before you could blink, back towards the bed. So mad you felt unstoppable. “Is that what you really think?” 

He was lying down again, staring up at the ceiling one hand against his forehead. That made you angrier. He should have followed you. He groaned your name, sitting up as you came nearer. “I said I’m sorry. Let’s just forget about what I said. Come here.” He outstretched his hand, voice gentle, filled with regret, but it was too late. “Let’s talk,” he suggested. 

You scoffed. Like that wasn’t what you’d wanted all evening. “Yeah. Let’s talk. Let’s talk about how you asked for another threesome not even two weeks ago! How care you turn it all on me!” 

His eyes flashed, hardening his features as he gritted out, “you know I was drunk!” 

“No.” You shook your head, indignant.  ‘That doesn’t cut it, Yoongi.” You were sick of him not telling you how he felt. You were sick of walking around pretending you were oblivious. Granted, this wasn’t how you wanted it to go, but it was too late now. You’d yell the place down if you didn’t get a straight answer. 

“I let you just brush it off, but I want answers,” you demanded, voice breaking as you stomped your foot and clenched your fists. Maybe childishly, but you didn’t care. You were so frustrated. “I deserve fucking answers. I’m your girlfriend, for crying out loud!” 

He shook his head slightly, looking down at his lap as he muttered. “I told you. I was drunk.” 

Shit. You didn’t want to cry. You really didn’t. But everything had escalated so much you were finding it hard to hold your tears back. Funny thing was, you’d never been much of a crier until recently. Maybe you were weak. When faced with reality it was all you could do. Still, you held it in as best you could, sitting on the edge of your bed, back turned to Yoongi. 

You spoke to the wall, voice tiny. “What’s wrong with us?” You were exhausted. Worn out from the night’s events. But really when you thought about it, what had you expected? If you were both so hellbent on pretending, it was all bound to blow up soon enough. Something told you that you should’ve had this conversation two weeks ago. When he’d arrived at your doorstep with his apology. But you both were too afraid, and now it had come to this. You prayed you could work it out. 

“Something feels like it’s missing and I don’t know what…” You didn’t even know when it became missing. It all happened so fast. 

He murmured your name. It didn’t sound good. Reminded you of the time your parents had to tell you your dog died. “I’m sorry,” he continued. The mattress dipped as he moved closer to you, but you still couldn’t look at him. Your eyes were blurry as you still stared at the wall. “It’s all on me.” 

It’s not you, it’s me. God, was he really going for that right now? It was always that. How many times had a guy told you that with fake sincerity? Yoongi wasn’t supposed to be like them. He was different. He was the one who made you feel all giddy inside. Made you smile, made you laugh. He was the one who encouraged you to quit Wendy’s and take a chance at fashion retail. He was the one who hugged you from behind and kissed your cheek when he missed you. He was your first proper relationship. You felt the difference that night in bed when he suggested you become exclusive. This bed you were sitting on now. In such a short amount of time things had changed. Was it always supposed to be like this? You felt fooled. 

“I just..I…” He trailed off, finding it difficult to continue. You heard him swallow.  “This isn’t working out the way I wanted it to. The way I thought it would.” 

You sniffed loudly, a tear running down your cheek and you acted quickly to brush it away. Okay, that was a new one. You didn’t get what he meant. Especially because everything had been fine for you. You felt his hand on your shoulder, urging you to turn and look at him. “Hey…” He said gently. “Come on, look at me.” 

He sounded like Yoongi, the Yoongi you were used to. So it was hard not to listen. You slowly turned and were met with his face. His eyes looked sorry, eyes glistening a little, and you knew then that this was hurting him too. He wasn’t like those other guys. It wasn’t an excuse. He probably hadn’t wanted to hurt you. That’s why he’d kept quiet, but he couldn’t hide it well. 

You sniffed again, determined to keep your tears at bay. “Is it. Is it because of what happened between Jin?” You stopped and started. “I’m sorry if it is.” 

You didn’t have it in you to feel embarrassed or awkward. The zero acknowledgment had made you question a lot, but if this was going to end, you wanted Yoongi to be truthful. 

“No,” he shook his head, adamant. “No, it’s not because of that.” He reached for your face. His touch was still so gentle. You wanted to close your eyes, to relish in it, but it wasn’t right. It wasn’t the same. “Not really.” He continued. “And it’s definitely not your fault.” He stressed. “I wanted that to happen. I pretty much instigated it. I enjoyed it, and for a while I really thought it helped us, but…” He tilted his head, eyes searching your face. “Isn’t that kinda fucked up?” 

It was funny to look back now. To see things in a new light. If you were so happy together why would you have needed that threesome? It had been a sign more than anything. A bad omen. 

But you couldn’t believe that. What you felt for Yoongi was real. Your happiness was real. It was just your thoughts were messed up. Scrambled. The threesome had happened because you had a history with Seokjin. Nothing else. It hadn’t happened because there were underlying problems in your relationship with Yoongi… It couldn’t have been that. How would you explain all the moments of bliss? 

“But we were happy,” you almost whimpered, holding onto his hands that cupped your face. 

“We were,” he smiled sadly. “It’s all my fault.” 

You wanted to ask him why, but your tongue wouldn’t work. The use of past tense was too much. You’d even used it too. He answered without being asked anyway. 

“I can’t fall in love with you.” He sounded a little lost. A little confused. A little sorry. “It should’ve happened by now. I was so sure you were the one.” 

“Oh, my god,” you uttered in complete shock, lifting your hands from his. You moved your head, trying to make him let go of you. Somehow you hadn’t been expecting that. Or at least, you hadn’t been expecting such a frank confession from Yoongi. Maybe he also realised it was time to be truthful. The pain in your chest couldn’t handle it though. 

He held onto your face, desperate to keep you looking at him. Desperate to make you understand. “I care about you so much. Everything about us was real. Is real. I just… We’ve hit a wall and I don’t know how to make it better.” 

His voice was beginning to sound weird now. Hoarse and wobbly. This wasn’t fair. Why did this have to be happening? You’d thought the same thing two weeks ago. Hit a wall. How could you be mad at him when deep down you knew he was right? But still, you didn’t want to let go… 

You wrapped your fingers around one of his wrists, looking up at him, eyes begging. “Can’t you just give it time?” You didn’t care if Yoongi didn’t love you right now. You knew you’d been thinking about it lately. Wondering when it would happen, but it didn’t matter. You could wait. He was putting pressure on himself. You didn’t care about that stuff. Never had. You just wanted him. 

The side of his mouth twitched, face sad as one hand moved to your shoulder, squeezing it gently. He looked you straight in the eyes. “Do you love me?” 

His question took you by surprise. No answer came. You were panicking. Not expecting the mental block. You’d been so preoccupied with him taking the lead, wanting him to confess his feelings, that you’d just taken yours for granted. “I–I…” You stammered, racking your brains for an appropriate way to explain. “I’ve never been in love before. I don’t know what it feels like.” How would you know? How could you be sure? 

He smiled but there was no happiness with it. His voice was light when he spoke, gentle, soft…like he was comforting you. “Baby, that’s a no.” 

You blinked a few times, processing his words. You didn’t love him? You were so confused. “If you felt it, you’d know it,” he carried on. You shook your head, intent on fighting him, but one look at his face and you shut your mouth. He was correct. You wouldn’t be confused if you loved him for real. His thumb caressed your face. “It’s okay. I know you care about me too, but sometimes it’s just better to let go.” 

Let go? You didn’t want to. Yoongi was the best thing that had ever happened to you. This was a relationship, like none of the other shit you’d been in before. Guys who called you their girlfriend but hadn’t cared about you. Yes, maybe you didn’t love Yoongi yet, but that would come in due time. Why was he so hellbent on giving up? It was as if he knew something you didn’t. 

“Maybe it will take some more time,” you said quietly. 

He pulled his hands away from you, making some distance. You knew then there was no more time. “I think,” he began, pausing as he tried to find the right words. “I think the circumstances just aren’t working out of us.” 

Maybe he was correct. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was always supposed to end. 

“Without love we’re just two friends having sex, and I don’t want that,” he said truthfully. You frowned. That was the complete opposite of what you’d wanted with Yoongi. It was the complete opposite of what he wanted too. It was what you’d had with Seokjin. 

Yoongi was saying he would never fall in love with you, for whatever reason, and maybe you would never love him either. That was still a grey area. You were only now realising the reality of the situation. 

“I don’t want to lose you from my life, but if we keep pretending, that’s what’s gonna happen.” He said after a pause. 

“But I’m going to lose you anyway,” you said, voice whiny, desperate. You reached for his hands. He didn’t pull away. 

“You won’t.” He shook his head, letting you link your fingers with his. His hands were warm, like they usually were, but they didn’t bring you comfort. “I want us to be friends. It may take some time, but I promise you, it’ll happen. You mean too much to me for this all to have been for nothing.” 

Friends? After all this? That seemed difficult to imagine. Not even an hour ago he’d been your boyfriend. You had not pictured that changing, despite knowing something was weird between you. Your brain couldn’t cope with the whiplash. 

“I hate knowing I made you feel like shit.” He said, voice low. “I wasn’t doing it on purpose. I wasn’t using you. I just… I’m sorry for everything. I should’ve said something as soon as I was having doubts, but I was so determined to make it work for us… If I could click my fingers and go back to how things were in the beginning, I would with no hesitation.” 

You let his words sink in, getting more and more frustrated. It wasn’t fair. He was telling you things hadn’t worked out as he thought they would, and that just made it worse. Everything that was, everything that could have been. It was a horrible feeling. 

He slowly began to drag his fingers from yours. You used all your might not to squeeze them tight. “The other week… I was drunk,” he started, sounding ashamed. You froze, knowing what was coming. The explanation. You were so scared. He sighed. You’d never heard him sound so afflicted. “I just…I wanted everything to go back to how things were. I thought another…” He groaned, unable to say it out loud. But you understood perfectly. “I thought it would cancel things out.” 

“So what happened is the problem,” you stressed, lifting your hands to your head. How could he say it wasn’t. Before the threesome everything had been fine. 

Maybe it was all your fault. Why couldn’t you have just left Seokjin in the past? Why had he been lingering in the back of your mind? Still was… After everything, and now even recently, you had to physically quash thoughts of him. All the worry and anxiety over your relationship with Yoongi had made you weak, confused. And now to learn it was also the downfall to everything was awful. 

“No. No. It isn’t.” Yoongi shook his head, reaching for you. He hugged you tight. You tried to fight it but you couldn’t. You wanted his arms around you. You wanted to feel him. To smell him. You wanted him. Your mind was adamant, but your chest felt weird. He pulled away after a minute or so, cupping your face once again. It was getting harder to hold back your tears. His eyes still glistened. But he was stronger than you. He wouldn’t cry. 

“I realised this would’ve happened either way.” What did that mean? That these past few months were pointless? A waste of energy. A strain on your heart. He looked into your eyes, like he was searching for something. Or maybe urging you to realise something. To realise the same? You didn’t want to. He exhaled softly, kissing the top of your forehead. You shut your eyes as he did so, hearing his voice fill your ears. “There’s something missing. Something in the way. That’s how life works out sometimes.” 

He pulled away, but you clung to him, lifting your mouth to reach his. “Yoongi,” you murmured, praying he wouldn’t pull away. He didn’t. He kissed you back gently. Each graze of his lips numbing you. You wanted to change his mind. Even if he was correct, you wanted him to be wrong. You broke apart first. “I don’t want us to break up,” you pleaded, fists gripping his t-shirt. 

“It has to happen.” He urged, pressing his forehead against yours. “It’s for the best.” You both fell into silence, chests rising together, breathing together. You couldn’t change his mind. You needed to accept that. He kissed your forehead again, pulling back slowly. “I’ll go…” 

“Please don’t,” you asked, tugging him tighter. This time the tears fell. Hot and thick down your cheeks, voice breaking, turning high pitched. Couldn’t he just stay for tonight? Hold you as you slept? You weren’t ready to let go so suddenly. You needed time. 

“Don’t cry,” he told you, wiping the tears from your face. You swallowed loudly, trying to get ahold of yourself. “I’m not worth it,” he smiled softly, voice lowering as he continued. “Besides, I think you’re crying because deep down you know this is the right thing to do.”

That stopped the tears. Made you think. He had to be wrong, but then…why did his words comfort you? 

He took the opportunity to stand from the bed, saying your name softly. “Get some sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow. We can talk some more. I mean it,” he urged, making you look up at him. “I care about you a lot and I want us to be friends once things are okay.” 

The next few minutes were a blur. You think you agreed, nodding, stretching a smile across your face. He moved slowly, stopping a few times to look back at you as he walked to the door, slipping his sneakers on, grabbing his keys. He said goodbye. The door closed behind him. You couldn’t say it back. You heard his car start. You heard him pull away, and then he was gone and it was quiet again. Your tiny apartment was deathly silently. So silent it felt deafening. What a horrible feeling. 

You didn’t know how long you sat on your bed in the same position. Perched on the edge, arms getting cold until goosebumps appeared. You should get under the covers, try to get some sleep like Yoongi said, but you couldn’t stop thinking, and the sheets would only smell of him. 

Too many thoughts in your head. Too many words. How come everything had collapsed so quickly? So suddenly? This whole time you’d wanted Yoongi to be open and honest with you. You knew something had been playing on his mind, but it wasn’t this. Never this. 

He didn’t love you. Couldn’t love you. Those were his words. Was there something wrong with you? Nobody had ever confessed their love for you. Yoongi was the closest. That night you’d had sex for the first time. You were so happy. Lying in your bed, this bed. He’d told you he really liked you. He was nervous because he didn’t think you liked him back. He had been cautious back then. He knew about Seokjin. Seokjin. No. You couldn’t think of him right now. 

But… How come out of every guy you’d ever been involved with, he was the only one that had never hurt you. The list was pretty long. Starting with your first boyfriend at seventeen and ending now, with Yoongi. Yes, it had hurt him too, but you didn’t want to acknowledge that right now. Yoongi was supposed to be different. You’d been in relationships in the past, called guys your boyfriend, but with Yoongi it was just different. He was quiet and kind. Laid back. Funny. Easy going. You felt at ease with him. Enough to relax and just open up. You let yourself be happy. Finally feeling like you deserved this one, even if sometimes it felt like he was too nice for you. That was just your doubts. Life was finally fitting together. 

People never understood how sensitive you were. You hid it well. You hid a lot of things. Even from yourself. You hid your emotions. You hid your thoughts. So much so, you’d always prided yourself on not being a deep thinker. You acted recklessly sometimes. But never with Yoongi. You thought long and hard before getting into something serious with him. You hadn’t wanted to hurt him. To lead him on. 

How ironic. Despite believing him tonight, feeling the devastation in his words, you still felt betrayed and hurt. Yoongi wasn’t supposed to make you feel like this, but yet here you were. Rethinking every little thing in your relationship. Trying to find where it had all gone wrong. When he’d realised he didn’t, and would never love you… You remembered the looks you’d find him giving you sometimes. Lost in thought. Now it all made sense. His eyes were sad. You hadn’t realised before. He was sad. He was sad because he didn’t love you. 

Love. Once again you were reminded of what bullshit it was. Why had you been so desperate and impatient for Yoongi to make such a confession. Was it because you’d never been in a relationship this long before? You think you thought it was because you believed he was the one. If you could imagine your life with anyone, it would be a Yoongi. So you’d waited for each stage of a long term relationship. A love confession was one of the main things. You hadn’t given much thought on if you loved him too. That just made you feel stupider. How deluded you’d been. Deluded and desperate for nothing. Somehow Yoongi could read you like a book. He knew you didn’t love him either. How? 

However, he also knew tonight would hurt. He knew it would be hard. It was probably half the reason he was ignoring it. That, and wishing it would go away. It was funny how you both wished things could go back to how they’d been. How disastrous if it was all falling to pieces already. 

Maybe you just weren’t cut out for relationships. Seokjin flitted through your mind again. That one had worked well. It was probably because it wasn’t a proper relationship. All you’d been was sex. But it had worked so well. You were happy then too. It was a different kind of happy. More relaxed than anything. Seokjin and you were happy together but you didn’t necessarily make one another happy. You couldn’t imagine Seokjin kissing you or hugging you like Yoongi had, make you giggle as he tickled you… 

Fuck. Why were you doing this again? Comparing them. Using memories you had with Yoongi and trying to imagine them with Jin. It was stupid and didn’t make sense. You were confused and didn’t want to be alone, and in the solitude of your apartment, one thing was painfully clear. Yes, there was only one guy out there who had never hurt you in any way. 

You looked at the clock, it wasn’t even 11pm. Still early. You knew you couldn’t spend the whole night like this. You’d never get to sleep. Your mind was racing. You needed to talk to someone. Lina would be the best person for the job. Your best friend. But that wasn’t whose apartment you showed up at…

It wasn’t until you were on his doorstep, ringing the doorbell did you begin to rethink your decision. What did you look like? You’d thrown some clothes on but hadn’t cleaned your face, the tears from earlier now dried around your eyes. This was stupid. You couldn’t just turn up at his place so late. What were you looking for? He didn’t want a crying girl on his shoulder looking for comfort… But it was too late. He was already opening the door, and your urgency to see him glowed even harder in your chest. 

Seokjin looked confused as he came into view, probably wondering who it was. Knowing him he was probably wishing he’d brought a knife with him. You know, in case it was an intruder. Because intruders knocked doors before the burgled or murdered you, didn’t everyone know that? 

His eyes widened when he saw you, freezing on the spot. He was a whole different kind of confused now, uttering your name questioningly. He took in your appearance, stopping on your face. Yeah, you looked like shit. He frowned, sounding worried when he spoke again. “What’s wrong?” 

You sniffed loudly, feeling the chill from the night’s air, and tried your best to at least give him a smile. It was not believable. Nor did it answer anything. 

“Hi, can I come in?” 

Written 2019. Reworked/Edited 2020 Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2020

#yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #jin fanfic #bts smut #floralseokjin:writings #fic:crystallised

[pennys-th0ughts]

Robert Gray. The Origin of Pennywise 🤡 Chapter 2

Augustine was sitting on the stairs in the porch. She was, as usual, reading one of her favorite books totally submerged in it. I was looking at her and cherishing every single one of her features that often reminded me to my wife. From her she got her beautiful eyes and the freckles on her cheeks and nose and from me she got the color of my hair and a proud nose. Her long curled copper hair resembled a furious river and its stream made of fire running a smooth hill down.

My daughter was a lovely fifteen years old young woman now and the springtime of her womanhood has already knocked at her door. Raising a little girl for a single father isn’t always that easy, even more when you don’t have an instructions book of how to play both figures for her. There were times I got to feel uncomfortable explaining things that a mother should, but in time we made it and Augustine did her best to understand me.

– ¿Are you thinking about mom, dad? – She suddenly asked me and made me snap out of my thoughts.

I remained in silence for some minutes trying to picture Charlotte’s face in my mind. After ten years without her and my memory loss stepping forward every day, which was diagnosed a couple years ago, made me fear that someday her face would start being something unknown to me but the pictures I kept on my night table and in almost all around the house were preventing me to forget the woman I loved the most.

– I think about her every single day, sweetheart – I answered my daughter with a little smile, trying really hard to contain my tears.

I couldn’t show her my weak side if I wanted her to be strong, but the feeling was devastating sometimes. To help me cope I used to read the diary she had left me before she passed, her poetry and quotes had so much heart that you could feel each word caressing your soul. To me they were like some kind of balm she made only for me and to cure my torn up spirit. The few years spent together we have realized that we had become in some kind of inspiration to each other.

To me she was the muse that helped me create the most benevolent medicines and for her I turned to be the architect that built the most beautiful dream she would keep living through once she was gone. And I was looking at this dream straight to her eyes and telling her how much I missed her mother without mentioning how badly I needed her.

– She never left – Augustine finally said closing her book and putting it to a side-. She is still here with us.

The truth in her words got me thinking for a moment and, despite her young age, once more my daughter was right. Her wisdom was so pure and unpredictable that many times left me without words, only thoughts. I kept thinking the loss of her mother made her grow faster than I would have wanted; she was so little when Charlotte passed away than I could bet she barely remember her.

Augustine sat down on my lap and I hugged her really tight. My little girl will soon leave the house and also a big emptiness in my heart, but I knew that was the right thing to do. She had a promising future outside Derry and I wouldn’t dare to force her to stay, Charlotte would surely kill me if she could.

Finally the day I feared the most to come came and I suddenly saw myself with my eyes watering because of the tears I couldn’t hold. I helped my daughter to place her luggage inside the carriage one foggy October night and after we said goodbye she finally departed to her new destination. I saw her put distance between us and the more distant she got the more I started missing her. House would feel so empty and the days would become longer. A new lonely phase was about to begin and I wasn’t ready for it.

Fire spread fast and by the time firefighters came to help the flames had already wiped out most of the things. Liquid medicines became into steam and all the solid ones and ingredients were now ashes. Drugstore burned to the ground until everything turned out into dust. I fell on my knees and watched powerless how the little smolders were slowly dying leaving only charcoals on their spot. I clenched my fists so hard that my nails pierced my skin and bloody marks popped up.

After the incident I had to let Charlotte’s brother go; rebuild the store from a scratch was going to take a lot of time and money I didn’t have. I was officially broken. Losing my job at the store was the last low blow I wasn’t expecting and after not seeing another way out of my bad financial situation I decided, with a heavy heart, to sell the house and move in to a smaller place a bit away from the main square.

Depression didn’t take long to look through my window one cold winter day. Soon I would start to loose notion of time and the will of going out and face people would become smaller each day. Paranoia came after and some days were blurry, alcohol would make them a little bit clearer but the outcome afterwards was always worse.

Augustine got a letter sometime after the tragedy, in it I told her what happened and where I was living now. She wrote me back and her letter arrived a couple days later saying that the conservatory wouldn’t allow her to leave until upcoming summer vacations. Long months were lying ahead like some kind of carpet made of shattered glass, I was in one end and Augustine was in the other, getting to her would definitely be something very painful.

Hot waves of air announced summer as usual. I was sitting on one of the benches at the train station waiting with my eyes lost in the far landscape loaded with orange, red and coffee tones. I was sitting there alone and waited for more than one hour Augustine’s train to arrive, something that never happened. I looked down and my eyes fell on the dusty floor as my spirit did. Bitterness of disappointment began flooding my mouth as if I just had a long sip of choler. When I finally gave up to the hope of seeing my daughter again someone came up out of the blue catching me unguarded. She sat down next to me and sighed. Her perfume started tearing floral notes of rose, violets and lavender of the air and some citric shades of tangerine and lime.

– If you don’t mind me saying, – she finally spoke- it seems you have been waiting long enough.

I abruptly turned my head to look at her unsuccessfully hiding the surprise plastered all over my face. She chuckled at my sudden reaction with a shy smile that she politely covered with her hand. The paleness of her skin reminded me the bright side of the moon, her light brown eyes looked like two pieces of gold and her hair was stunningly white.

– I'm afraid you are quite correct – I replied slightly smiling back-. ¿Are you waiting for the next train, miss?

– Actually no – she extended her hand to shake mine-. I just came down from the one that just left.

We shook hands and she introduced herself as Carou Sehl, I did the same and told her I used to be the apothecary of the town until not long ago a fire burned the whole place down. We shared some trivial details of our current occupations and some other irrelevant events of our lives. It was about to be eight o'clock and I was starting to feel a little hungry.

– ¿Would you like to have a cup of coffee? – I asked her with my voice fully loaded with hesitation, fearing to be rejected because of the late hour.

She seemed not to be worried about the time so she accepted my invitation, I helped her get up and we headed to the most comfortable cafeteria downtown. On our way there we didn’t speak much, we limited ourselves to watch the store windows and the things there exhibited. In a moment the girl froze on the spot making me stop immediately since she was still grabbing my arm.

I didn’t need to ask what was going on when I saw her admiring a beautiful dress a manikin was wearing. The price in the tag was certainly high but the fabric and the design of the piece was undoubtedly amazing that reminded me the kind of dress only the princesses in fairy tales would wear.

The environment inside the cafeteria was surprisingly nice at this hour, there weren’t too much people and that made it really quiet, special to have a long and relaxed talk. Carou sat down in front me and left her belongings next to her, I did the same with my hat and coat. The waitress greeted us politely leaving the menu on the table which we both laid hands on it at the same time. Such a clumsy coincidence made the girl laugh shyly and ripped a smile of my lips, maybe the most sincere one since a long time.

We spent the next two and half hours talking about the intriguing life inside a circus, Carou worked there for many years since she was ten years old until they parents had to retire because of their advanced ages. She carefully explained that once the acrobats reach their fifties they must stop working because the muscles begin getting hard and the joints doesn’t respond as they should putting their lives in danger of falling. Carou kept on going with the family’s inheritance until time decided when to show her the finishing flag.

I remained looking at her in silence, listening every single word coming out from her pink lips carefully. She spoke with so devotion that was inevitable not to feel the same fire inside your chest.

– It seems you love what to do – I finally said sighing-. ¿Have you ever imagined yourself doing something else?

– Not really, no – she answered my question while playing with the napkin-. I think my life was meant to be spent in a circus and I'm okay with that…

– ¿But…?

– But I would have loved to travel around the world, with the circus or not, it would have been a quite unforgettable experience.

Carou clearly seemed to be the kind of woman that loved adventure but hadn’t the chance to get out and see the world by her own. Her parents anchored her to a life that had limited choices and she accepted it without hesitation given it was her only way out to a complicated situation.

– It would have, indeed –I reaffirmed her point of view.

I paid the coffees and we left. Before going separate ways, she invited me to go and watch one of her numbers at the circus which I gladly accepted. That night a warm breeze was blowing, gently shaking the branches of the trees and their leaves. The wind didn’t give time to put my hat on in time and disheveled a few locks of my hair; Carou took one of them and put it behind my ear and said:

– Your hair looks like winter fire…

I froze on the spot for a split of a second not knowing how or what to feel but I immediately put myself together and reacted just in time to say goodbye and kiss her hand. That night I would return home with a strange but nice feeling inside my chest, something I thought it was long time gone.

To be continued…

Image: Andy White (@deviantart )

#pennys thoughts #pennywise #short story

[yukipage]

Antithesis: Chapter 14 (Darkiplier/Reader)

Characters: Darkiplier, Reader

Summary: Choices is the theme of the day, when you land in the other dimension. Some unimportant, some life-changing. What will you pick?

While it may be fine for a simple piece of paper, traveling across dimensions unsheltered as a complex organism comes with some… complications. The space between realities is nothing to sneeze at, so the demon has to rush them through to ensure their physical and mental healths are in peak condition for the super-duper ultra, very exciting half-time game. Not that he would have any trouble speeding the process along; on the contrary, it was quite easy for him. The demon had nearly unlimited power and that could get terribly boring from time to time. Piddly actions, such as limiting Darkimoo’s teleportation, he could perform with a snap of his fingers. Only the greatest of feats came with a power limitation, and a small one at that: consent. At least two parties involved had to be willing participators. It was becoming increasingly too simple to manipulate his subjects into doing something fun, though. Ah, well. This new game should be exhilarating, if at least for a short while. One of the chosen players has proven to be extremely interesting, a good choice if he does say so himself. She holds the potential to amuse even outside the game, if he can clear the conditions. Just as much of a child as he is a strategist, the demon wiggles on his throne in eagerness of what is to come.

You can sense the change in surroundings as soon as you close your eyes. Darkiplier is gone from your arms and you feel a cold surface appear below you, offering no solace. It is as if the journey through the portal had taken no time at all. Your tensed body relaxes slightly and your eyelids open. You are in a most curious room. The walls, black in color, swirl and wisp like smoke trapped behind glass. The floor is made of the same material. You run your hand over it; it’s as smooth as polished stone. Despite the shade of it all, the windowless room is well-lit from several mounted lights dotting the walls. A luxurious canopy bed stands to one side with a dressing table next to it. Atop the little table sits a clear basin, filled to the brim with what seems to be water, and a cup. Your thirst once again hits you at full force and you scramble over to the container. Snatching up the cup, you only hesitate for a second before plunging it into the liquid. You drain the glass in one gulp and fill it again and again, hardly savoring the feel of cool, sweet water running down your throat. You drink until you can hold no more, then tiredly shuffle over to the bed. The water sloshes around in your overfull stomach as you sink into the mattress and heave a sigh of contentment. You swear to yourself that you never again will take water for granted. Now that your thirst has been quenched, you sit up and try to get your bearings.

You absentmindedly run your finger through the coating of dust and sweat on your arm. What you would have expected is for the stupid half-time game to have started already. Instead, the demon just split the group up. You assume that the others are in different parts of this… house? Building? You don’t even know what kind of structure you are in. You attempt to ignore your aching body as you cross the floor to open one of the two doors located in this room. Door number one leads, surprisingly, to a bathroom. It carries the same aesthetic as the rest of the room, but never-the-less seems to be a normal restroom, shower and all. A small pile of white cloth is folded neatly on the closed toilet lid. You graze your hand over the fabric and gasp. It’s the softest thing that you’ve ever had the pleasure to feel. Smooth and silky, your fingers pass over it almost frictionlessly. Gingerly, you pick it up and realize that it’s a sleeveless dress. Fresh undergarments lie tucked underneath it. You hold the item up to the mirror. It seems to be your size, but it’s pearly white pleated folds starkly contrast with the layers of dirt covering your skin and laced into your bedraggled hair. You resolve to take a shower.

After spending nearly an hour indulging yourself under the pleasantly cool water while scrubbing the grime off of your body, you step out of the shower and dry yourself off. You slip on the clean undergarments and the dress. Immediately, you are in heaven. The dress flows over your form like water and feels lighter than air. Moving your hips back and forth, you swish it playfully around. Another glance in mirror takes your breath away. Even with your wet, stringy hair, you look like an Egyptian goddess.

Your senses return to you when you step back into the main room. As far as you can see, you only have two choices. Option A: cocoon yourself in the blankets on the comfy bed and sleep until something happens. Option B: go through the second door and see if it leads somewhere; if it does, explore said somewhere until you find someone. Something, somewhere, someone; neither of these plans are very specific. First you need to test if option B is even possible. You pull the door open a crack and peek out. It opens up to a hallway lined with doors, stretching far to an adjacent passageway. Glancing back in the room, you stare longingly at the bed.

Screw it, you can’t just sit here and do nothing. You step into the hallway barefoot, loathe to put back on your defiled shoes. You leave the door open. The corridor stretches just as far to your right as it does to your left. In a moment of decision, you turn right. As you go, you try several doors. All of them seem to be locked. When you reach the end, you turn right again. Try every door in the corridor. This time turn left at the end. Wash, rinse, repeat. You quickly lose yourself in the maze of doors. The sameness of it all and the hopelessness that comes with being completely and utterly lost starts to unnerve you. You feel as if you are doomed to wander these halls for all eternity, always searching and never finding anything. Then you turn another corner for what feels like the millionth time and run headlong into a giant ring.

Rubbing your tender forehead, you step back and see that the giant ring is in fact a handle attached to a large door. You shrug and start to tug on the handle. It opens more easily than you would think for a door that size. You peep in.

The entrance leads to a massive chamber. Rows upon rows of chairs line the space, parting only in the middle for a blood red carpet. At the end of the carpet, steps lead up to a gigantic geometrically shaped throne. On the throne sits a small shadowy figure dwarfed by the largeness of its surroundings. The figure is humanoid in shape, but with no distinguishing features except for an unsettlingly large mouth, stretched into a grin, and two white, pupil-less eyes. Those eyes happen to be trained on your person. The figure speaks. “Hey there girly! Why don’t you come on down? I’ve been wait’n for sooo looong.” He spoke with the voice of the demon. This was the demon. You never thought that he had a physical form, let alone that you would ever see it. You open the door just wide enough for you to step through and start down the aisle. It’s not like you have a choice or anything.

You venture to speak as you walk. “I thought...” Your voice cracks. You start over. “I, uh, thought we were supposed to start your game or whatever.”

“Heeheehee,” the demon giggles. “That we will, that we will. I just wanted some alone time with you before the fun begins. You know, so we can talk.”

“Talk?” You grow bolder as you stop at the steps. “What could I possibly have to talk about with you?” Once you are close, you get a good measure of his actual size. He’s no larger than a child. The eyes and mouth still unsettle you though.

“I have a proposition for you. One might call it… hmmm, shall we say, a deal?”

You step back and throw your hands up defensively. “Oh no. No way. Your deals have caused nothing but trouble for me and for Dark.”

“But this one would solve aaall of your problems. And you even get to choose which one to take! Option A or Option B.” He winks at you.

“What? How did you…”

“Option A. After we finish these games, it’ll be no fun with either Darkimoo or Glitchy just running around by themselves.” The demon makes what you assume is a pouty face. “So, I’ll take them out of their hosts for you! See? That would make your life so much easier! Darkimoo would be out of your hair forever and ever and ever. You would go back to normal.”

You stare at him in shock. “Would Mark and Jack be alive?”

“Of course, silly. That’s easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy.”

You gulp. It seemed like everything that you had been striving for. And yet… Something unsettling nags at the pit of your stomach. You do you best to suppress it. “So what’s the catch then?”

“Wait, wait, wait! You haven’t heard Option B yet! B is the real kicker. It’d keep me entertained for a long while. I’m sure you’ll like this one.” The demon rests his chin on his hand, his elbow supported by the arm of the throne. “I could make Darkimoo fall in love with you,” he croons with a sly grin.

You turn as red as the carpet you're standing on. “Are you crazy?” you stutter. “ I’m not… he’s not… I wouldn’t… Why? I don’t…” He presses his fingers against his thumb and your mouth clacks shut involuntarily.

“Oh please, my dear,” he spits out mockingly. “It’s so painfully obvious. You run back and forth with him, all over the world, without protest. Don’t tell me you aren’t enjoying the time spent with him. Enjoyed him holding you. You do everything he asks you to.” You mumble a muffled protest. “And what girl wouldn’t fall in love with a man like that? He’s saved your life three times, carried you on his back, offered to give you anything you desired. And what a dreamboat, smart, powerful, handsome, and with that amaaazingly sensual voice. Ah,” The demon pretends to swoon. “The real Markimoo would never even glance your way. But this one? He would be yours. All he would need is a little nudge in the right direction. You would never be lonely again. And, I’ll even throw in the removal of Glitchy. How ‘bout them apples?”

Through this whole speech, you shrink smaller and smaller into yourself with every word uttered. He just might be right. He just might… Oh, who are you kidding? Of course he’s right. You want to smack the living daylights out of yourself for being so stupid. You? Fall in love with a being that kidnapped you, locked you up, and dragged you around half the world? How could anyone be so ridiculous? Yet, it is true. Every single word that he says is true. He releases his hold on your mouth. “Well? What do you have to say?”

You feel like a cornered animal. You lick your lips nervously and swallow, your mouth suddenly very, very dry. Eventually, you find your voice. “F-fine. You win.” You hang your head in defeat. “I, uh…”

“You love…”

“I love… dang it! Don’t make me say it!” Tears stream down your cheeks.

The demon cackles. “I knew it! I knew it, I knew it. So, now that everything is laid bare on your end, I’ll expose mine. In exchange for either of my lovely proposals, I get the right to inhabit your body until the game is finished. Then I’ll do what you’ll have me do and be on my way. It’s simple, really. A bargain, if I do say so myself.”

“You want to inhabit my body? Like possess me?”

“Yeppers. And only for a teensy weensy amount of time. However. There is another catch. This deal is available if and only if you win the super-duper fantabulous extra-exciting half-time game. You get to make you choice at that time and what happens, happens.”

Your mind reels. This is so much, too much to handle. You’ll have to choose one way or another; you might not even get to if you lose. What if you don’t take the deal? Then there’s a hundred percent chance of either Sean dying or… Darkiplier and Mark dying. You don’t think you would be able to survive either one. You tell yourself not to be selfish. You tell yourself that you’re better than this. You should pick A. Regardless of morals, you still don’t know which one you would choose and it eats you up inside. You sigh. “I’ll take the deal then. When I win.”

“Excellent. The game can begin now! Let’s bring out our brilliant contestants!”

|A03| |Chapter 1| |Chapter 2| |Chapter 3| |Chapter 4| |Chapter 5| |Chapter 6| |Chapter 7| |Chapter 8| |Chapter 9| |Chapter 10| |Chapter 11| |Chapter 12| |Chapter 13| |Chapter 15|

#darkiplier x reader #youtuber x reader #markiplier egos #darkiplier #markiplier #fanfiction #writing #antithesis fic #yuki's fics

[landofsomethingsomething]

Karkat trying his damndest to bake dave a apple pie and Dave literally crying when he receives said pie. He doesn't even taste it at first, just cries cause no ones ever baked him something before and-"Oh god Karkat I love you marry me and have my babies"

“You know,” Jake said, as though his input was at all invited or even slightly welcome, “Watching that thing in there is most definitely not going to finish it any faster.” 

“Funny how I don’t remember asking you,” Karkat ground out through gritted teeth, keeping his eyes defiantly on the innards of the electric baking device. 

“I know you’re trying your absolute hardest,” Jake went on, blithely, “But I figure when your books talk about melting glares and looks that could melt steel and all that they’re not being precisely literal.” 

“I am not –” Karkat cut himself off, straightened up and growled low in his throat. He refused to turn around. “Fuck off!” 

“I admit I question the purity of his motivations,” a new voice chimed in, and Karkat groaned, helplessly, resting his forehead against the wide handle of the device. It was almost too warm for comfort. “But Jake is right, Karkat. A watched pot never boils, you know.” 

“I am not watching a pot,” Karkat said, speaking slowly, enunciating every word as clearly and kindly as possible given the situation, because he had to admit, he wouldn’t have made it half this far without Jane’s help in the first place. Human cuisine was far too fucking complicated. “Neither am I waiting for water to boil, so thank you, Jane, I’ll file that tidbit away for the future, when it might be even slightly relevant.” 

He heard Jake snort and Jane sigh, and god, the seconds were taking fucking hours to pass, and still the crust of his stupid pie remained woefully pale. It was like, six thousands fucking degrees in there, how could it take so long to cook? 

“Have it your way,” Jane said, and Karkat did steal a look over then, a momentary panic blasting through him. 

“Wait, are you leaving? What if something goes wrong? What if –” 

She laughed at him, and he snapped his mouth shut immediately, telltale heat climbing up his traitorous cheeks. “You’ll be fine, Karkat,” Jane assured him. She had her eyebrows up at him and was wiping her hands absently on her apron, smiling faintly. “All that’s left is to let the darn thing finish! You’re managing to make even me nervous, just standing there waiting impatiently like that.” 

“See?” Jake said, nudging his chin in Jane’s direction. “She knows her stuff. You’d best follow her advice. You wouldn’t want to go serving a certain someone a defective pie, would you?” 

“Oh, stop teasing him,” Jane said, but there was absolutely no vigor in it. She was practically laughing at him.

“Never,” Jake said, solemnly, and Jane whipped at him with her apron tassels. Jake crossed his arms and stood fast against this fabricated assault, and in response, Jane picked up a rolling pin and brandished it at him threateningly. This received the expected response – Jake immediately turned tail with a half-sincere yelp, and they both went scampering out the back door one after the other, letting it slam behind them. 

Which left Karkat alone with his fledgling attempt at human baking and an entirely too enormous surplus of time, most of which he spent fidgeting aimlessly and feeling like an idiot, because Dave was going to laugh his guts out at this ridiculous gesture even if the thing didn’t turn out – well, defective. 

An hour later, he was fully armed and loaded with a frankly absurdly hot fruity human confection… and he very nearly meekly deposited it in the garbage before he could go embarrass himself by actually presenting it to its intended recipient. But, no. Dave loved apples, and he loved pies, and Karkat was absolutely sure on at least several separate occasions he had tried unsuccessfully to charm Jane into combining the concepts for him exactly like this. 

He’d like it. 

Probably. 

Jane had told him to let it set for a few hours before taking it off the rack, but the thought of doing so made him want to die, so here he was, buried in baking mitts up to the elbows, carrying out a steaming platter to find his frankly undeserving boyfriend before he lost his nerve. 

Said nerve ebbed slightly with every step, and truth be told, he almost didn’t find him in time, after all. 

And when he did, he didn’t know what exactly to say or do. There was no occasion to hide behind. No excuse to hold up like a shield and pretend had forced him to do this extremely stupid thing. Dave looked up from a desk covered in eye-searingly shitty scribbles and Karkat could see his brows hunch together even behind the idiotic shades. 

“What the fuck?” Dave said, and Karkat nearly, so fucking nearly just chucked at him and ran. 

Instead, he ground his teeth and held it out, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I got tired of you constantly debasing yourself in front of John’s mother,” he said, deciding on the angle on the fly, “so I thought I’d spare you at least some measure of future humiliation by putting together a… um,” he stumbled a bit, fuck, he was losing his conviction fast, “Hopefully… acceptable substitute, for you know, it’s not going to be nearly as good as the shit she puts out, but it’s my first try, and I probably should have left it on the fucking rack like she told me to but you know what, fuck that, what kind of precious fucking nourishment needs to set for twice as long as it needs to fucking cook?” 

He stopped. Swallowed. Dave was just looking at him, head titled slightly. 

“Fuck,” Karkat muttered. “I’m picking up all your shitty ramble habits.” 

Dave stood up, and he was frowning, and Karkat’s stomach dropped straight to the floor, but he just kept standing there holding the stupid thing because what else was he supposed to do? 

“You, like, made that? Yourself?” 

“Uh, yeah. I just fucking said that, didn’t I?!” 

“For me?” 

“Jesus Christ, Dave, I’m not repeating every god damn word I just projectile vomited all over the space between us! Please just take this stupid shitty thing and do whatever you want with it, okay? Toss it out, for all I care! Just take it!” He held it out, insistently, and then his eyes widened and he snatched it back, half turning away. “Actually, don’t do that, you’ll burn the shit out of yourself. Let me just –” Fuck, this was going so much worse than he’d imagined it would. “I’ll just put it here,” he mumbled, stepping fast around Dave and setting it on the desk atop a discarded set of shitty, shitty drawings. He pulled the gloves off and threw those down, too, and then turned to flee – and ran right back into Dave, who had somehow silently moved directly behind him. 

“Fuck,” Karkat complained, “Move your ass, I need to go crawl into a hole and never come out, now.” 

“Why?” Dave demanded, and Karkat winced back with a panicked shrug. 

“Because I’m fucking embarrassed, okay? I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea! Can you please just let me retreat with some modicum of dignity intact, please?” 

“No, I –” Dave’s expression darkened even further, and Karkat narrowed his eyes at him, glaring. “I just mean, I don’t get…” Dave looked from him, to the table, and back again. “Never mind,” he said. And he just stood there. Karkat shuffled his feet, uncertain. 

“I can take it away,” he said. 

“Nah,” Dave replied, but he still didn’t move. He was standing, in fact, very, very still. Karkat studied him, brows knitting, watching his lips flatten and the muscles in his throat spasm suspiciously. 

Oh. 

He felt himself deflate. Not with disappointment or shame or anything, just – relief, almost? Okay. He understood this, he thought, although Dave probably didn’t want to hear it. He crossed his arms. He stared at the floor, because Dave probably didn’t want him watching, well, him. 

“It’s funny, right?” Dave said, finally, a few minutes later, and there was no sign anything had happened at all except his voice was a little off, maybe. Karkat envied him that. His face always got all puffy and wet and frankly disgusting when he cried. “It’s just a fucking pie. Not that, uh. I mean. I don’t mean –” 

“I get it,” Karkat said, quietly. 

“Thanks,” Dave said, and Karkat nodded. 

“You’re welcome, idiot. But please remember, it’s probably really fucking bad. Defective, really.” 

“I don’t give a shit what it is,” Dave said. “It’s goddamn perfect, whether we have to eat it ourselves, or trick John into eating it instead.” 

Karkat laughed. “Yeah, okay,” he said, warmth spreading all through him, along with the vague notion that maybe this hadn’t been a completely idiotic idea after all. “Excellent point.” 

#dave strider #karkat vantas #davekat #asks #prompts #jake english #jane crocker #look i just want more karkat cr w jake let me live #Anonymous #op #ficlet

[topmixtrends]

LAURA LIPPMAN’S Sunburn is a noir love story. An unlikely genre blend, but this is a noir that strays from type from the very first page; it’s a summertime noir, trench coats swapped out for sundresses, staging its crimes and misdemeanors not in the anonymous shadows of a big city’s indifference, but in the full glare of small-town nosiness, as though confirming one character’s assertion that “there’s no better way to be found than to try to hide.”

Belleville, Delaware, is the tourism equivalent of a flyover state; with fewer than 2,000 people, it is a town “put together from some other town’s leftovers” through which people pass on their way to more promising destinations. It is here, during the long hot summer of 1995, that Polly and Adam, two strangers with no baggage apart from the emotional kind, will meet and surrender to a passionate romance against their best interests and better judgment. Which all sounds like the beginning of a beautiful relationship, except that it’s clear from the start that Polly and Adam are keeping a number of dangerous secrets, and by the end of the summer, their affair will have a body count.

The novel is divided into two segments, “Smoke” and “Fire.” The story unfolds through the perspectives of several third-person narrators, most frequently Adam and Polly. Neither of them is particularly sympathetic at first, but as the story develops and histories are revealed, the reader’s sympathies will adjust, and while clumsy distinctions like “good” and “bad” remain muddled, the psychological cause and effect of events is wholly satisfying.

But in the beginning, it’s nothing but shadows and questionable behavior. As befits the femme fatale character, Polly has left many men in her past with cause for complaint or grudges, most recently her husband Gregg, whom she has just abandoned along with their three-year-old daughter Jani while vacationing on a Delaware beach in what was not an impulsive decision. Adam’s shade is more straightforward, predatory. A man who prefers his women “thin and a little skittish” like the deer he hunts, he is nonetheless targeting the slim-but-curvaceous Polly; initiating contact, keeping tabs on her movements for reasons as yet undisclosed. It’s clear he knows much more about her than he’s letting on.

They came to this nothing of a town with their own agendas, but both had intended it to be a temporary layover, sharing as little of themselves as possible while planning their next moves. They’re careful people, calculating, skilled in manipulation and self-protection; Polly is deliberate about the name she uses, Adam has a reliable methodology in place: “Tell as few lies as possible, that’s his rule.” And yet there’s something inexorably drawing them to each other; something more than just two restless strangers meeting by chance in a town with nothing to do, where the only entertainment or diversion is each other.

Even Cath the barmaid, who has her own amorous designs on Adam, remarks upon their oddly similar demeanors:

“…you’re like her.” “How so?”

“Mysterious. Not offering up much of anything. Not sure if you’re staying or passing through.”

In part because of this compatibility, and despite their best-laid plans, Polly and Adam decide to stay in Belleville, taking jobs at the same bar as Cath, putting their plans on hold and enjoying a passionate fling during a languid summer in a suspended-animation town. Theirs is a complicated entanglement — a standoff of a love affair between two people whose lives don’t need any additional complications. For them, lust is easy, trust is hard. Polly has been serially disappointed by men, while Adam is suspicious of Polly because he knows certain details of her past. Their liaison is a pause for them both, but it’s a tightly coiled pause, with the two braced for the inevitable breaking-off point of a relationship that can have no happy ending, indulging themselves in what is less a game of cat-and-mouse than a game of chicken, anxiously anticipating the moment when they will have to spring apart or risk mutual destruction.

Sunburn is Lippman’s homage to the legacy of James M. Cain, a fellow Baltimore native and a contemporary of Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler. Cain’s three most celebrated works, Double Indemnity, The Postman Always Rings Twice, and Mildred Pierce, were instrumental in expanding the literary purview of noir beyond the realm of the hardboiled detective and into the secret lives of everyday people, laying the groundwork for what would become “domestic noir.” In Sunburn, Cain’s novels make a cameo appearance, inspiring a character to make a life-altering decision, and Cain’s thematic influence is felt throughout in what have become the tropes of the genre: outsider characters who are charismatic but flawed and self-destructive, loveless marriages, the dark side of human nature, women deploying their sexuality against weak or brutish men, secret pasts, nosy investigators, disenchantment, insurance fraud, get-rich-quick schemes and other alternative paths to the American Dream, as well as the occasional trail of dead bodies. In short: Greed, lust, murder, money, all of which Sunburn delivers.

And oh, that noir patter:

He says, “How long you staying over?”

“Who wants to know?”

“Every man in town, I’m guessing […] I’m Adam Bosk,” he says. “Like the pear, only with a ‘k’ instead of a ‘c.’”

“I’m the Pink Lady,” she says. “Like the apple.”

“Think we can still be friends, me a pear, you an apple?”

“I thought it was apples and oranges that can’t be compared.”

That’s some vintage black-and-white dialogue in what is otherwise a full-color noir, opening as it does on a sunburned redhead in a pink-and-yellow sundress before blazing through a wide spectrum of literal and figurative colors: the green of money and envy; the red of blood, flames, and rage; and Polly’s determination to surround herself with pretty, colorful objects all lending Cain’s gloomy themes a defiant optimism.

Sunburn requires a reviewer to be as cautious as its central characters. There are a lot of secrets within, and they start unfolding early in the book; details slipping out as brief as a thought (“When you’ve been in jail even a short time, you don’t like being confined”), facts materializing before their significance can be grasped, clues gradually accumulating until all of a sudden you’re in the thick of it. This process is mirrored in the development of Polly and Adam’s relationship. Falling in love was never the plan for either of them, and what began as something closer to target practice than courtship, with each testing the other, establishing boundaries, going through the motions of a happy relationship while working their own angles, becomes an emotional investment before they realize it.

Or does it? After all, when it comes to noir, things are rarely as they appear; all those unseen mechanisms at work beneath the artificial surface. The reader here has the luxury of knowing more than the participants when it comes to feelings and intentions, but again — trust is hard. It’s tempting to consider this a noir spin on “The Gift of the Magi,” where both characters are making sacrifices out of love — secretly risking their own goals/plans/responsibilities in order to be with the other in Nowhere, U.S.A. But is their love the result of two cynics putting aside cynicism? Or the strategic moves of opponents pretending that they don’t know they’ve been made? Is this love or is it a hunt?

Lippman draws out the suspense on that matter in a wonderfully provocative way. She presents two characters whose every move is an exercise in calculated, fabricated spontaneity, both playing the long game with their own set of rules, both with an immense capacity for stillness, for waiting the other out. Adam has the patience of a bow-hunter who appreciates that waiting is time well spent: “Waiting can be beautiful, lush, full of possibility.” And Polly makes for unusual prey, a woman skilled in silence and immobility: “If there is one thing Polly knows how to do, it’s waiting. It’s her talent, her art.” It has all the makings of a deadlock, and there’s an undeniable appeal to the oppositional romance; resisting intimacy, refusing to cave, Polly’s withholding (“Don’t say too much and people will fill in the gaps, usually to your advantage”), Adam’s aloof scrutiny (“She’s ignoring him, he’s ignoring her ignoring him”). It’s all fun and games, and also some felonies.

Polly is the cherry-red bull’s-eye at the heart of the story; she’s the target and the prize and the thing around which everything else revolves and without her, there’s no game. The femme fatale is invariably the most interesting character, but Lippman has taken her to the next level while staying true to the genre conventions. Polly typifies the coquettish qualities expected of her role, but she’s not enthusiastic about being worshipped, and she’s earned her air of weary realism:

[I]t’s not the first time someone has gone out of the way to pay her tribute. Men have always done things for her. People. And she never asks. That is, she never seems to ask […] It’s a special art, asking people to do things, yet making it seem as if you never asked at all. There are talents she would prefer to this one, because favors often carry a heavy penalty when it’s time to return them, but it’s the skill she was given, the hand she has to play.

She is well aware of her own power, but she also knows how transitory a power it is, and how not to waste it while it’s hers:

Her looks are only slightly above average, her body didn’t come into its own until she had all those long empty days to exercise. Besides, she would never invest so heavily in a commodity that won’t last forever. It’s how she is on the inside that makes her different from other women. She fixes her gaze on the goal and never loses sight of it.

The goal is never a man. Never. Men are the stones she jumps to, one after another, toward the goal.

Polly is layered and adaptable, enigmatic, her motives shadowy, showing only what she wants seen. This chameleon quality allows her to become many things to many people, cast in lights positive and negative and roles often contradictory, but ultimately irrelevant. Appearance, reputation — these are other people’s values and qualities assigned to her, which say nothing about the real Polly nursing her secrets beneath the bait of window dressing and deflection. One character observes wryly that “[s]ome people are like rabbit holes and you can fall a long, long way down if you go too far,” and Polly is shrewd enough to allow the expectations and misinterpretations of others to construct her “rabbit holes” for her. These decoys protect her from exposure while she pursues her own schemes, unruffled by the labels of people who haven’t even begun to scratch her surface. She is called “unnatural” for leaving her daughter, but is she a monster? Or is she just playing a longer game than anyone else can perceive?

“[N]o one knows her whole story. She plans to keep it that way.” And to all but the reader, she achieves her goal.

¤

Karen Brissette is a voracious reader and the most popular reviewer on Goodreads.

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