#I just wish I could stop feeling this soul-crushing loneliness and have a friend that really cared for once

[doggirlnarcolepsy]

.

#wish I had someone to talk other than my partner but I haven't had a real friend besides her in literal years #I'm so bad at reaching out to people and when I finally work up the courage to try to make friends real life stuff always gets in the way #and then I spend so much time dealing with that that I end up drifting apart from everyone. even if everything was going well #or I end up fucking the entire thing up irreparably because of my BPD episodes make me push people away to self-destruct #or i just end up becoming too obsessive which also usually pushes people away in the end #I just wish I could stop feeling this soul-crushing loneliness and have a friend that really cared for once #and that I could stop falling in love with everyone who's shows me even the smallest thread of kindness because I crave affection like air #because that always ends terribly.. #I barely feel real. I just sit around day in and day out feeling completely empty and non-existent. like I'm not even there to begin with #I just don't know how much longer I can keep that up for.. I just feel so exhausted

[rollinouttahere-writes]

So I've been meaning to ask this question for a while. During the time skip do the straw hats like eventually give in to the fact that Lucky needs to grow stronger. After what had happened to them? Like would they be more willing to let her train so she could defend herself? Or would the whole thing only make them train harder and their obsession grow stronger? Would Lucky be sent on her own or with another crewmate?

Okay time to spoil my plans for the timeskip, something I told myself not to do but I have zero self control so here we go lmao

They are very torn on the matter. Logically, yes, they understand that Lucky growing strong would be a benefit, but they aren't exactly logical when it comes to their feelings towards her. Being away from her for too long would leave them feeling like they're in withdrawal, so they struggle to bring themselves to do it.

Fortunately for them, they don't need to make the decision. "A" makes it for them. One second Lucky is watching her crewmates argue over what to do with her, the next second she's on a ship surrounded by people she's never met. This is when Lucky finally gets to figure out who "A" is and meets her.

The reason "A" does this is because she's taken a special interest in Lucky. She spies on all of the people she's granted wishes for over the centuries, but usually not for long. Most peoples' wants are dreadfully boring to her. Wealth, fame, and power are the usuals. It's become cliche. Now, wishing for love is hardly unique, but typically it comes from the place of a scorned lover or perversion. Lucky's wish came from a place of soul crushing loneliness and a desire to have someone that simply wanted to keep her around... It struck a cord with "A". It made her mind go back to a point in time that she prefers not to think about.

She sees Lucky as a sort of kindred spirit, a relatable protagonist. She has been enthralled by watching her journey. The chaos that has come from her wish has been unimaginable and extremely entertaining. So, she's willing to get more involved than ever before. She gives Lucky a place to stay for the next two years, as well as the opportunity to train with one of her crewmates. A weapons specialist and collector who was the previous owner of the urumi that Lucky has. The two years of training with her will be much needed given that the urumi is a notoriously difficult weapon to master. Lucky won't actually be good at using it until after the timeskip.

Don't mistake any of this for kindness or generosity on "A's" part, all of this comes with a catch. You see, she's made quite the investment with Lucky... it's only fair that she gets something in return. She doesn't want much, just a guarantee that she will continue to be entertained for the foreseeable future. "A" gets her fellow crewmates to hold Lucky down while she plucks the amulet off of Lucky and extracts her specific wish from it. The wish is then forcibly implanted into her chest, an excruciating process that leaves Lucky feeling like she was recently branded for about a week after. You see, it would be a shame if Lucky were to ever lose the amulet and stopped racking up obsessive suitors and friends, so "A" makes sure that is no longer a possibility.

Lucky is then returned to the Thousand Sunny. When everyone asks where she has been and what happened... Lucky can't recall. She learned how to use her urumi, and two years have definitely passed... but she can't remember a god damn thing that happened during them. Or why her chest hurts so bad.

#lucky break

[glassartpeasants]

Calling To The Moon

Overhaul x F!Reader

Warnings: Child abuse, physical abuse, emotional abuse, death, slight gore, suicide, mentions and implications of self-harm, dead dove do not eat

A/N: This is probably the saddest shit I've ever written. I know I've said that before probably, but I'm serious this time. It took me a whole month nonstop to finish this. I wanted to make it perfect for you guys and just simply for myself. I'm very proud of this fic, and it took me so long to get it to the point where I was confident with the writing and editing. This fic is VERY long, and I mean VERY LONG. It was a whole 25 pages in Google Docs and has 9,603 words in it. I really hope you guys like and it would mean the world to me if you could tell me how I did. I hope you guys like it and enjoy <3

~~~

The atmosphere in the base has never been so cold. No matter what, every room and hall felt colder than the arctic sea. Both temperature and emotion wise. You’d ask your husband to turn up the heat, but he was always busy and seemingly never in a good mood. Which only added to the cold feeling. Summer or winter, it was always cold. Even colder when you’d guys have an argument.

Arguing with him was hell. He’d talk over you and say such hurtful things. Belittling you and ignoring whatever you had to say. In every argument, he stood victorious because you just wanted his horrible words to stop. He’d bring up things that he’d promise to never tell a soul. Yet there he was, using your past against you.

It feels like your chest is getting ripped open every time you do. The times he’d spit his venom when he wore his mask was terrifying. You could see a danger in his eyes, like how a lamb fears a wolf. You hated feeling this way. He was your husband. He shouldn’t be scaring you and threatening you. But here you were.

He never did it in front of other yakuza leaders, which is why you enjoyed the meetings so much. He'd act as lovingly as someone like him would during a meeting. These times would remind you of why you married him. How'd he act like he was proud being next to you. Telling you he loved you in ways only you both know. It was amazing while it lasted. The feeling of being wanted.

After 8 months of being married, though, he started to change.

He’d never sleep in the same bed as you anymore. You don’t know if he moved to a different room or if he slept in his office. You've searched your brain for anything but can't think of a single reason as to why he would just up a ditch you like that.

It really crushed your self-esteem. Having your once loving husband act like you were so disgusting. Looking at you like he does his enemies no matter what you wore or done. You tried wearing what used to be his favorite thing to see on you, but he completely ignored you. Acting as if you didn’t exist.

Then, he’d look at you with loving eyes that made you forget how he treated you only moments before. When that horrible mask and ugly jacket were off, he'd look at you like he did before you had the ring on your finger. It was times like this that kept you right by his side. No matter the horrible words his other side spilled.

But the mental toll was soon piling up, one small feather enough to make you crash down.

With the mental toll overflowing, it caused feelings you’ve tried so hard to bury to resurface. Times to before you met him. Parts of your life that you wish would burn away from your memories. But, the physical scars you carried only worsened it. You hated yourself, hated the loneliness that crushed you. Hated the way your past haunted you.

All these made your life unbearable. No matter what medication, no matter the ‘self-care’ people would recommend, nothing made you feel complete.

All your ‘friends’ left you as soon as they saw how dark you truly felt inside. They called you a ‘debbie downer.’ So no matter what, they left you to decay and continue their lives without you. You remember thinking that there was no point. No life in your light to scare away the darkness. Then, you met him, and everything changed.

But that was then. Now, you were feeling the darkness creep back inch by inch as you sat on the compound's couch.

The sterile scented environment contrasted greatly to the smell of tea in front of you. The only light was the moonlight shining through the windows. The room felt once again so cold. Hopelessness filled you as sleep still seemed so far away.

“You guys seem like such a happy family. I don’t see why all this happened.” The cop stood in front of the couch where you and your mother resided. You on the far right arm and her on the left. You desperately tried to put as much room as possible between the two of you.

“I'm sorry, officer. My daughter was just having an attention episode. Sorry to take your focus away from real problems.” Your mother’s response was smooth and calm, but you knew what hid behind them. Her stone mask always failed to deceive you, as you knew her best.

You were no fool. You knew she would severely punish you as soon as the officer left. It was just comical, really. How you were stuck in such a position in the first place. It happened only hours ago, yet it was still fresh in your mind like a burn wound. 

“Is this abuse, huh?!” The look in her eyes was so terrifying that you still see it in your nightmares. Her nails dug into the back of your neck, and you felt her nimble fingers squeezing your throat. Your heart seemed to stop at the reality that this was really happening. The way your mother held your throat as you went to pry it off. Although, it ended as soon as it started. She whipped her hands away from you and gave you one last death glare before stomping toward her room. 

Tears poured down your face as you took deep breaths, trying to gather the air that your lungs craved harshly. The feeling of her fingers still wrapped around your neck made the helplessness inside you explode as you started frantically searching for a bag.

The sunset illuminated the room as you managed to find a bag before shoving anything you could into it. Clothes, phone, charger, things that held emotional value, anything you could fit, you brought. 

Stepping out of your room and into the hallway, you feel scared. Worrying that you’ll turn the corner and see your mother standing there with that look in her eyes once more. But to your luck, she was nowhere to be seen. 

You turn towards the door and stare at the handle. It felt as if a strong force was holding your body still. Grabbing all the strength you could muster, you shakingly move your hand towards the door handle, opening it silently. Gently, you moved your feet out of the house and shut the door as quietly as you opened it. The wooden deck creaked below you as you tried to walk across it. Your heart beats in your ears as you bite your lip in anxiety. Being caught right now was something of nightmares. Yet, the sound of dirt crunching beneath your shoes made you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Then, you ran.

You ran down the driveway and onto the dirt road that held yours and many other houses. Your shoes crunched against the ground as dirt flew behind you as you ran as fast as your legs could carry you. The sound of rocks hitting the earth fell on deaf ears.

The trees surrounded you and cheered you on as the wind rustled their leaves. Cold air enveloped your body as your cursed yourself for not wearing a jacket, but it didn’t matter. How your body ran gave your body enough heat to survive for now. Adrenaline pumped through your veins, and all you could think of was running. To run till you collapsed or reached your grandparents only a few miles away. You’d finally be safe and wanted there.

The sun set faster than you imagined, and the once beautiful sky was soon replaced with stars that called you. Telling you to come visit them. That you’ll be safe there. The urge to reach for the stars was crushed as red and blue lights surrounded you and the trees. They hid the stars above you, and the feeling of loneliness once again encapsulated you. Tears threatened down your cheeks as you heard a man’s voice tell you to get in the car. Saying that he’s taking you home.

What was back there was no home to you.

You got into his car without a fuss despite the urge to fight. The way back to your hell was quiet as the cop said nothing to you. The back seat of his vehicle was cold and unwelcoming. Dread filled you as you pulled up to the place you had run from only hours before. The image of your mom standing on the deck haunts you as she waits for her ‘attention-seeking daughter’ to come home.

“Why are you crying?”  A light voice ripped you from your reflection of the past and brought you back to the present. With blurry eyes, you try to make out the voice that called out to you.

“I just had a moment. Sorry, you had to see that. I thought everyone was asleep.” Wiping your eyes, you blink away the remaining tears as you finally catch a glimpse of the man in front of you.

You’ve never seen him before.

“Who are you?” You couldn’t help but be suspicious. 

“My names Gushiken Taro. I just started today, so I’ve yet to meet everyone.”

“Oh, that makes sense. Well, my name is Chisaki (Y/N). It's a pleasure to have you here at the compound.” You sent him a welcoming smile. His voice seemed so young. From what you could actually see of him, he still looked like a teenager or had the body of one. 

“You must be Overhaul’s wife, I assume?” God, you hated that name. Ever since that name had left your husband's tongue, your life has been nothing but constant dread. 

“Yes, that's correct. May I ask how old you are?”

“Your much more friendly, I have to say. But I’ll be turning 19 in a few weeks.” You couldn’t hide the shock on your face. His age would be the same as…his.

“That's so young! How did you get caught up in the yakuza so young?” 

“It’s a long story, haha. But why is the leader's wife crying at midnight?” You didn’t know what to say, so you just answered his question. 

“I couldn’t sleep. I just…get emotional when I don’t sleep.”

“Understandable. I’d love to chat more, Mrs. Chisaki, but I must find my way out of this maze and back to the exit. It’s so late, and I must go home. It’s dark, so it may take a while.”

“I can help you to the exit.”

“Really? Are you sure?” Standing up, you grab your tea and hold a smile on your face.

“I’m sure everyone deserves to be helped.”

“Thank you very much. I shall follow you.” You nodded as you led him towards the exit, making small conversations along the way. A familiar feeling to protect slowly crawled back.

~~~

Despite being so close to another human being, your husband no less, you still felt so cold. You tried to ignore the goose bumps that littered your arms, but you still let out a shiver on accident. 

“Hey, Overhaul, your pretty wife over there is shivering. Why don’t you give her your jacket, huh? Take care of a special thing like her.” The gruff voice of an older man cut through the air. You saw the leader of the farthest clan looking at Kai with an eyebrow raised. His hair was white, and his skin wrinkled, giving you the impression of him being in his late 60s or early 70s. Reminding you of your own grandfather.

You were shocked, to say the least. No ones ever mentioned you in a meeting before. Well, not in the way where they asked your husband to do something for you in front of everyone. A warmth spread across your face as the feeling of happiness made a small smile appear on your face. It’s been a while since anyone, including your husband, has called you pretty or special. You felt appreciated even if it was by someone you didn’t know.

Shooting your husband a quick glance, he caught your eye before you saw a frown appear from behind his mask. You said nothing as you expected the air to continue to nip at your skin and you’d stay cold, but you were pleasantly surprised when you felt familiar purple feathers surround you and block your vision. The heat of his body that was once trapped in the coat now surrounded you. Snuggling up in the warm fabric, you send a kind smile to the old man who sat in the back. You felt like your husband's love surrounded you for the first time in months.

A flash of white appeared out of the corner of your eye. Moving your head slightly, you ignored the men around you talking. A familiar figure stood by the door. You send the man a subtle wave and smile at him. Your smile grew bigger when the man sent one back.

~~~

 You started walking back to your room, a skip in your step as your husband's jacket still hung on your form. His purple feathered hood surrounded your face and tickled your nose as his scent covered you. The smell felt safe and made you feel so sleepy. What you wouldn’t give to sleep with your husband's scent again. Feel as if he was actually lying next to you.

“(Y/N).” The stoic sound of your husband's voice broke you of your small fantasy. You knew what was gonna happen. He was probably going to ask for his jacket back and then degrade you. Taking a deep breath to build up your walls, you spin around to look at him, smiling as you try to show a confident front.

“Yes, love?” his shoes echoed against the walls as he moved closer towards you. You tried your best not to shake in anxiety, not knowing his next move.

“Give me my jacket.” You take it off and give it back without even batting an eye. The cold coming back to attack your uncovered skin.

“Anything else I can help you with-”

“I’m not letting you come to the meetings anymore.” You look at him, shocked, as you try to piece together what made him make such a harsh decision so quickly.

“What? Why?”

“Obviously, you're a distraction to the real tasks at hand. I don’t want people paying attention to you when there are more important things to focus on.” With such small words, you feel your walls start to crash.

“All he said was that I was cold! You didn’t have to give me your jacket. You could have continued talking.” He looked at you like you were some stupid little girl. A look you knew all too well.

“If you had a brain, you’d see that that’d be a bad choice. If I want money, I have to make them trust me.”

“Oh, so fake being nice to your wife is a way to get respect and people to trust you?” His sharp eyes turned to daggers as he looked at you.

“I don’t have time to talk to you. I’ve got more important things to do.”

“Good! Because I also have more important things to do than talking to you asshole.” You turn around to stomp away but feel a firm grip wrap around your wrist. He aggressively dragged you to your room before closing the door and making you face him. Your husband's golden eyes bore into your own. Despite the fear that infected your blood, you tried to hide it.

“Who do you think you are to talk to your superior like that.” His voice low, and the grip on your wrist turned bone-crushing.

“Superior?! Kai, your my husband! And let me go! You're hurting me!” His grip on your wrist only got tighter, and you felt a stinging sensation erupt from his fingertips as his gloves disintegrated in front of you.

“It’s Overhaul. Kai is dead.” Your eyes blew wide at his statement. Confusion wracked your body as you searched for an answer.

“Overhaul?! What the fuck are you talking about Kai-” A horrific pain shot through your arm that Kai so aggressively held. Tears spilled harshly down your face as you screamed in pain. Red liquid covers your body as you try to grab the now missing appendage. Searing pain causes you to lose your footing as your salty tears fall on the ground.

Then, the pain stopped.

Your body trembled as you felt your once missing arm now back where it should have been. The sensation of losing something so important still puzzled your body as you tried to grab a sense of what had just happened.

“It's Overhaul, don’t make me tell you again.” The sound of his footsteps leaving your room haunted you as the door closed. Your lungs seemingly couldn’t get enough air as you tried to gasp and heave at the horror of your husband doing something he promised never to do.

~~~

“What could you possibly be depressed about?! What made you so sad that had you scratching yourself with a pencil till you bleed! Fucking pathetic, doing it for attention, aren’t you? You wanna see real cuts?!” The way your mother grabbed your wrist had you wincing in pain as she put your hand on fresh yet scabbing cuts on her arms. Her eyes tearing into yours as she moved your hand across her skin, yelling at you the entire time.

“This is what real depression is! Not your pathetic attempt at attention seeking. God, your so useless! Not everything is about you! Have you ever thought about how I feel?!”

You didn’t know how she found out. You tried everything to keep what you were doing to yourself a secret. Cause you feared what would happen if she saw your freshly open wounds on your arms.

It was the only thing that made you feel better. It took away the pain you felt inside and moved it to where you decided to dig the graphite of your pencil into your skin. The pain it caused numbed the pain you felt inside. It gave you something else to pay attention to. Sometimes, you’d dig the pencil even deeper into your skin, feeling like you deserved the pain you were causing yourself and what you felt inside.

You deserved it, you deserved it, you deserved it repeated in your head as you cry into the dark of your room, scratching the barely healed scars on your arms. Looking up at the ceiling, wondering what you could do to make the pain disappear. You’d cry into your pillows as the feeling of those fresh cuts on your mother's arms still tingled against your fingertips. Dry blood smeared on them with small spots under your nails. Holding your hands together, you look outside at the moon, crying for it to take you away.

You could see the moon shining through the small bathroom window. You got an even greater view with the window being wide open. The crescent moon reminds you of cartoons you used to watch when you were young. 

Candles surrounded you as the lights were turned off to try and calm yourself down. To relieve the anxiety and fear that had been coursing through your veins ever since yesterday. The bath was so warm and inviting as it convinced you to stay longer. To ignore the pain that still ghosted your heart. You didn’t dare leave your bathroom or room, fearing what Kai-Overhaul, would do.

It was such a numbing feeling. Knowing your husband put his hands on you after promising he never would. Breaking a promise, he told you ‘he’d rather die than break.’

Obviously, it didn’t mean anything anymore.

Your heart constricted as you looked up to the moon, begging for answers. Asking what you’d done to deserve this? Asking what you could do to get rid of the numbing feeling that overtook you. To feel something other than emptiness. To escape these all too familiar feelings.

Just then. A shiny glint caught your eye at the rim of the tub.

~~~

The sound of the screaming kettle let you know your tea was finally ready. Grabbing your favorite tea cup, you walk towards the steaming kettle.

Putting your cup on the tray, you grab the kettle before pouring it over the strainer filled with green tea leaves you had already set up. The tea goes into the teapot underneath it. A smile on your face as these times were one of the only times that brought you any sort of happiness. This used to be your husband's favorite, and he quickly had you hooked on it. The smell filled the kitchen with a homey feeling.

You put the teapot on the tray and some tea snacks before you make your way to the living room, only to be stopped by crashing into something immediately. The sound of everything hitting the ground made you cover your ears.

“Oh shit, Mrs. Chisaki, I’m so sorry!” The familiar voice of Gushiken filled the kitchen.

“It's okay. Things happen. It was an accident.” Looking down, you see the tea everywhere, and the teapot shattered into seemingly millions of pieces. Alas, your teacup was nowhere to be found.

“I managed to save the cup, if that means anything.” The man hands you the still intact cup. A breath of relief left your lips as you held the cup tightly, afraid it might drop any second.

“Please, let me help clean up. It’s my fault for not saying I was approaching.” You let out a laugh as you set your teacup away before you crouch down to pick up the broken pieces of what was your least favorite pot anyways. As long as your cup was fine, you were okay.

Making piles of glass, you and him gently grabbed them and threw them away. Mopping up the spilled tea and throwing the tray away in fear of Overhaul throwing a tantrum.

“Hey, what happened to your arm? Did some of the glass get you?” Looking at your arm, you see your long-sleeved shirt exposing minor cuts along your arm. Freezing up, you quickly lie.

“Oh! I guess. I didn’t even notice.”

“Well, can I help wrap it up? My sister was a nurse, and she taught me a few things. It's my fault your hurt anyways.” guilt plagued your mind at his words.

“I…okay.”

~~~

You sat at the kitchen island and watched as Gushiken wrapped up your arms with care. Much kinder and soft than Overhaul has been with you in so long. A feeling filled your body as he tended your wounds. You felt cared for. Like you were worth something to someone.

“There, you should be okay. Just make sure to change it and keep it clean to avoid infection.”

“I will thank you so much, Gushiken.”

“Can I ask you a question? It's kinda personal, so you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.”

“Um, sure? What is it?”

“Why does Overhaul never have you around? He seemingly avoids you life your the plague, and every time your name gets brought up, his brows furrow in disdain.” It was a really personal question he asked, but you were surprised no one else had asked you it earlier. 

“I don’t know. I couldn’t tell you who the man you see before us now is. This man isn’t the man who used to treat me like I was worth more than any jewels he’d gain. He is no longer the man who called me beautiful every chance he could. He’s not the man that asked me to marry him.” Tears brimmed your eyelids as you did your best to avoid crying. You didn’t want to look all red-faced and red-eyed in front of Gushiken.

“I don’t understand. Did a switch just flip inside him? Was there a fight or something?” His confusion was shared as you didn’t understand your husband's reasons either.

“No. Just one day, instead of the black mask he used to always wear, he wore the one that now adorns his face. The one that causes fear to anyone that looks at it. Then, he seemingly turned into a whole other man.” You felt your throat constricting as you try to talk without hiccuping.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Chisaki.” The remorse he expressed in his voice made your body shake as you lowered your head. He couldn’t see how affected you truly were by your husband's actions towards you. It wasn’t his problem that your husband changed.

“You should probably continue working. I don’t want you to get in trouble.” Your voice cracked as your lips tremble.

“But-”

“Please.” With a sigh, Gushiken got up from the stool he sat on.

“As you wish, Mrs. Chisaki. I hope you feel better soon.” His footsteps soon ran out of earshot as you simply looked at your knees. You could feel your tears fall on the clothing that covered them. Your problems were your own. Someone as young as him should just be worried about other things. You regret letting your emotions get the best of you and talking about it. 

Not wanting everyone else to see your tears, you get up from the stool and walk down the empty halls toward your room. Not looking up from the floor.

~~~

It was easier to fold laundry with music playing. It helped keep your mind out of all the negative thoughts that plagued it. You made your own little playlist that you liked to listen to during times like this. One specific song you always looked forward to. 

The song that played at your wedding that he danced with you to.

Speaking of said song, the familiar tune soon emitted from your phone. A smile spread on your face as you stopped folding laundry and started to dance along to the haunting melody. Imagining you weren’t dancing alone.

“You look gorgeous, my angel.” His words melted your heart as you looked at the man in front of you with love.

“And you look so handsome. I could stare into your eyes for eternity.” His gaze was so soft, and just being near him made you feel so calm. So safe. Knowing that as long as you were with him, he’d protect you till his dying breath.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky to find you. What did I do to deserve you?”

“I couldn’t imagine myself with another man. You're the only person that’ll forever have my heart.” Your heart thumped inside your chest as you felt him place his forehead against yours. His voice turned into a low hum as the tune matched the song that played around you. You couldn’t help but join along as you danced together, never wanting it to end.

“I’ll love you till my dying breath, my angel.”

“I’d walk around the world just to be with you. Through hell and high water, I’ll never stop loving you.”

The gorgeous melody that once played was soon replaced with another one. Your memory of so long ago tearing your heart in two. Memories of a better time where you were wanted, where you were loved. It haunted you like a ghost no matter what. His ghost haunted you, a ghost of who he used to be.

A ghost you’d still dance with if given the chance.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

“Hello?” Who could be knocking? All the precepts were on missions, and Overhaul was in a meeting.

“(Y/N)? It’s me, Hari.”

“Come in.” The door opened with a creak, and a familiar masked man emerged.

“I just came to-”

“Take off the mask.”

“Huh?”

“Take off the fucking mask. I see it enough every day, no matter where I go. All I ask is to see the real face of a friend.” A second hesitation before he unclasped the mask to look at you. The face of an old friend finally back.

“You look so much more attractive and friendly without that dumb mask.” A chuckle left his lips as he smiled lightly at you. It reminded you of when you, Overhaul, and Hari would sit outside in the sun and enjoy each other's company. Talking about god knows what.

“I just came here to escort you to Overhaul’s meeting. Other Yakuza leaders have actually been worried about you.” Your eyes widen at his words.

“Really? Thats…nice. It’s been a while since someone has worried about me other than Gus-” You stop at your words, too concerned for his safety.

“Gushiken? Yeah, I’ve noticed you talking to him. But don’t worry, I won’t tell. I’m just happy you have someone to talk to. I’d be there, but-”

“It’s okay. I know ‘Overhaul’ has been running you ragged ever since he started his stupid ‘plan.’ I don’t blame you for not having enough energy. It’s stupid how he pushes his best friend around.” You walk towards Hari, ready to leave the room. Without a word, you feel Hari’s arms wrap around you. It’s been so long since you’ve felt someone's embrace. You hugged him back, happy to be next to an old friend.

“It may not mean much, but I care and worry about you too. Even if I don’t have the time to show it.” You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, but you embraced it.

“Thank you, Hari. That means so much more to me than you know.”

~~~

The meeting was almost over by the time you and Hari arrived. You didn’t worry too much about it, though, as Hari told you, it was still almost over when he went to collect you. With a gulp, you opened the door to see everyone looking at you. You force a smile as you wave to everyone and greet them.

“Ah, it’s so good to see you’re okay, Mrs. Chisaki. We were worried you had come down with something.” Your husband glanced at you before you lied.

“No need to fret. I’ve just been busy with things in the family. Mom’s getting old, and she needs someone to take care of her.” The term mom almost makes you puke in your throat. The thought of doing anything for that woman made your stomach churn.

“You have such a caring wife, Overhaul. I’m jealous.” With a chuckle, the old man speaks to your husband.

“Yes. I’m very proud and happy I married her. She’s truly an angel in disguise.” His words made your heart skip a beat. In pain or in love? You didn’t know. It might have been something to appease the other leaders. Yet, hearing him say such beautiful words about you had you struggle to hold back tears and not jump into his arms. Tell him that you loved him so. The urge was shoved deep down as he called the meeting over which everyone seemingly agreed.

With each leader that passed you, you gently smiled and thanked them for coming. They all sent a smile as well while they exited the room. With that last one leaving, your smile left, and you have your husband who still sat in his chair.

“Everyone except (Y/N) leave.” Your body went rigid as a lump fell in your throat. You look at Hari, and he simply shrugs. You felt him grab your hand and run his fingers over your knuckles before whispering, “You’ll be okay.”. He walked along with two other members that you couldn’t remember. When everyone was gone, you started to fiddle with your fingers to calm down.

“Overhaul is-”

“Shut up, I’m thinking.” You open your mouth to respond but close it just as quickly. 

“I don’t understand. Even without you, they worry about you rather than talk about the plan for a better society.” His brows furrowed as he stood up and walked towards you. Fear paralyzes your body as you watch him stop right in front of you. He moves his gloved hand to put the pad of his index finger underneath your chin. He moved your head up so you could look at one another in the eyes.

“What’s so special about you?” He looks at you with genuine confusion. It felt like it should have been more insulting. Your throat dries as his eyes pierce your soul.

“I don’t know.” Your voice small.

“Other than you being pure and quirkless. There's nothing special about you.” Those words echoed in your head as you remembered how those words would come out of a monster that haunted your past. 

“Then why marry me?” The words left your mouth before you could think. His eyes seemed to widen before going back to stone.

“I don’t know.” His words caused tears to fall from your eyes. They clung to your lashes, making the man in front of you one big blur.

“What happened to you? What happened to my husband? My angel?” His hand moved towards your cheek and wiped away your tears. But why? Why would he show such a display of affection after all this time? Despite all your questions, he remained silent as his gloved hand had yet to move from your cheek. You wanted to lean into it. To enjoy such a foreign touch from your husband. But you couldn’t.

“No…I can’t do this.” you turn away from his hand before running out of the room and away from his touch. You couldn’t handle it. So much time since his last loving touch that it now felt wrong. It wasn’t fair for him to play with your feelings like this. To treat you so horribly and then handle you with such care. It’s cruel.

~~~

“The moon looks so beautiful tonight.” Your voice cuts through the silence as you walk around the compound's roof. Once again, you couldn’t sleep, so what better way to pass the time than look at the moon?

Sitting on the very edge of the compound's walls, you look up to the moon with a blanket wrapped around you. Your heart beating loud enough to echo through your head as a wave of sadness washed over you.

“Everywhere I go, I always end up hurting. Every step of my life has brought me pain. I finally thought he would be the angel to pull me free.” Your lip quivers as you try to understand why.

“I ran away to free myself. I moved to another country, and misery still followed me. It’s like I can never escape. Like I was destined for pain and suffering.” the cold air whispered to you through the breeze, telling you something you couldn’t understand. 

“What other life did I live that caused this? Is there even a timeline where I can be truly happy?” The tears you’ve been holding back finally started to blur your vision.

“They always said things would get better. They promised. My grandparents, teachers, ‘friends,’ and doctors. They all told me to ‘give it time’ and ‘everything will be in your favor.’ I’m tired of waiting!” You clench your fists as you look up to the moon. You were so angry. All the emotions you’ve been bottling up soon turned into angry tears, the cracking of your voice evident as you try to speak.

“I…feel so stupid. For thinking he’d be the cure I needed. The person to chase away everything I tried to leave behind.” The sound of footprints made you freeze as you snapped your head to look behind you.

“Hari? H-How long have you been here?” Hiccups plague your voice even though you try to stop your tears.

“Long enough.” With a few more steps, he was sitting on the edge next to you. There was a few seconds of silence before he spoke.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I wouldn’t want to burden you with my woes. You already got enough on your plate.”

“You could never bother me (Y/N).”

“...” Words seemed impossible as your heart beat against your ribs.

“How about where you used to live?”

“(Country Name). I came here when I was 18.” Such a small question, but you knew that he wanted to know why you were sobbing on the roof.

“Do you come up here often?”

“I’ve been coming more recently. The moon and stars always have comforted me.”

“They are beautiful. I can see why you would.” The silence was awkward, but you enjoyed his company regardless. 

“You’ve been bottling it up for a while, haven’t you? It’s okay. I understand. Talking about stuff like that is…hard.”

“There's not many therapists that want to work for the yakuza.” Hari let out a chuckle, and you couldn’t help but let one out as well. His laughter was always contagious. 

“Do you have any family? I heard grandparents but nothing else. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, though.”

“A brother and sister. I’ve never met my sister, but I grew up with my brother until…” Letting out a sharp exhale, you continue.

“Until he ran away. I was 17, and he was 14. I saw him go to bed, told him I loved him, and went to bed. The next morning, he was gone. He’s never contacted me, and even after all these years, I still can’t find him.” Your hands shake as you look at the ground below you.

“I’m sorry. Would there be a reason he’d just disappear?” It felt like a breath caught in your throat. You haven’t talked about her in so long. Your husband was the only one you told in deep detail about your childhood. Yet, when you look into Hari’s eyes, the care and concern that shine in them remind you of the day you told Kai. You’ve known Hari just as long as Kai, and if what he said earlier was true, then maybe you could get a small bit of the weight on your chest off. 

“My mother.” A deep breath left your lungs as you prepared yourself.

“My mother wasn’t known for her kindness. She had many problems. We’d be here till sunrise if I went into detail.”

“You can tell me whatever makes you comfortable. I promise.”

“Thank you, Hari…” You sent him a small smile as you continued.

“My father wasn’t in the picture, so it was just my mother. My grandparents as well but only visits with them. The house we lived in was on its last legs. Lots of spots were decaying, and we didn’t have the money to fix it. We didn’t have the money for food either. Many nights, my brother and I went hungry.” You glance at the man next to you, and a look of sadness is plastered on it.

“She brought a lot of strange people over. A lot we didn’t know. I didn’t trust any of them, so I ignored all of them and never let my brother out of my sight. Me and him were extremely close during this time, so his disappearance made it that much harder for me.” Tears spill down your cheeks, making them red as the cold air bit them.

“Everything was my fault. No matter what happened, I deserved the punishment and rage. Something so small could cause her to explode. Yet, I couldn’t let my brother be treated like I was, so any mistakes he made, I took the blame. I’m the big sister. My job was to protect and still…”

“No one was there to protect you.” His voice was soft as he stole the words from your mouth. You scooted closer to him just to enjoy his company more and enjoy the body heat he gave off. Knowing he was there calmed you. Your head grew heavy as you just gently placed your head on his shoulder.

“She called me many things. Things that you should never call a child. So many of her words still haunt me to this day. No matter what meds I took, I would still hear them like they were said seconds ago. Back then, I dealt with the pain by hurting myself. There were so many times I felt like I deserved it. Times where I’d cry myself to sleep, yet nothing I did soothed the pain I felt inside. It was like this till I ran away.” 

“I lived on the streets here for a long time. I truly felt hopeless. Worthless. There were so many days where I thought about taking my life. I was an outsider who only spoke basic Japanese. An outsider without a quirk.”

“Can’t imagine how hard it would’ve been. Especially with how people treat the quirkless. You’re very strong for pulling through what you went through. It’s very admirable.”

“You're just saying that.” You joke.

“I mean it.” A smile spread on your face as your heart started to calm down. 

“By some grace of god, I managed to get off my feet. I had a crummy apartment and a crummy job, but I was still thankful. Even though I was thankful, I still felt so…empty? Sad? Numb? Whatever it was, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. My job only paid enough for bills, so like in childhood, many nights I went to bed without eating.” You bite your lips as you try to stop it from trembling.

“I made some ‘friends’ at work, but they didn’t last long. They didn’t want to hang out with someone as sad as me. No matter the meds I took, I never felt complete. I felt like I was still missing something. It was like that until…”

“Until?”

“Until I met Kai. We were grabbing the same cleaning product, and we ended up talking. You know what happens after that.”

“Yeah. You really had him by the throat for a long time.” You both laugh at the memory.

“When I told Kai about my past, he said nothing. Only held my hands. I somehow managed to gather up all my courage to show my scars. I was so afraid. Afraid he’d find me disgusting. A freak, but he told me that my scars didn’t matter. That I was perfect to him. I remember crying. I fell so in love with him at that moment that I knew that he was the one I wanted to be with for the rest of my life.”

“My favorite teacup was the teacup that I was drinking from when he proposed to me. He didn’t get on his knees cause we were in the garden, but he asked me to dance with him. He asked me to marry him while we danced, and I still remember his tone that day. I thought right then that finally, after struggling for so many years, I was going to be happy.” Harsh tears spill down your face as those beautiful memories play through your mind. Pain that there was no longer a connection that used to be.

“I’m so thankful your still Kurono Hari. I don’t know what i’d do if you weren’t.” You heard a gulp come from the man next to you. The feeling of his hand being hesitantly placed on top of yours made your heart skip a beat. Yet, you made no effort to stop him when he intertwined his fingers with yours.

~~~

The day felt a little lighter than others. You didn’t know why, but it was like a breath of fresh air. Talking to Hari a week ago managed to lighten your chest, but there was only so much that talking could do.

He’s been checking up on you so much more than before. He’d tell you good morning and goodnight no matter if he was running late. He managed to make time in his hellish schedule to talk and see you. It brought a smile to your face every time. He turned into a small light that you looked forward to seeing every day. Despite the sadness that still ate away at you, you were happy you had him to talk to.

While you were no chef, you wanted to make him something as a thank you. Which led you to where you are now. Drinking out of your favorite teacup while baking cookies. You hoped he liked chocolate chip.

“Something smells good. What are you making?” Spinning your head, you see Gushiken walking up to you. 

“Chocolate chip cookies.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“For a friend. Hope he likes them cause they’re the only cookies I know I can make well.” You both laugh before continuing.

“How’d you get so good?”

“It was my brother's favorite. I didn’t make it often. But when I did I took my time to memorize it.”

“Wow. Lucky him to have a kind sister.”

“I was lucky if I got past the dough stage. He’d always eat it. I’ll never understand how he didn’t get salmonella.” Gushiken laughed.

“You’d be the same age as him. Sometimes I see him in you.” You laugh to avoid the ache in your chest. It was true. Something about him reminded you of your brother. It could be his unusually happy personality. How he’d talk about his interests with such excitement. Not to mention he had the same hair color as him. That being said, you felt a familiar gut feeling to protect. To make sure no one would hurt him. It’s been so long since you’ve felt it so strongly.

“My sister was like you too. Funny huh? When I first saw you I thought you were her! Then again, it was almost pitch black…” Laughing, you continue stirring the dough, almost finished.

“Can you grab me the cookie cutters? They're in the bottom left drawer.” Sending you a thumbs up, Gushiken went digging through the drawer. Grabbing some parchment paper and flour, you lay it on the counter so it's ready to cut the dough.

“Found them!”

“Great, now wash your hands. I won’t be able to cut cookies all by myself.” That was a lie. You’ve done it before, but something inside you spoke before you thought. Maybe it was the hole in your heart that your brother left, trying to heal itself. Somehow, without seeing his face, the smile he wore managed to repair a small part.

The sound of water running and the rolling pin doing its job echoed throughout the kitchen.

“Alright! I’m done!” Excitement was evident in Gushiken's voice as he stood in front of the flattened cookie dough.

“Okay, I need you to cut as much as you can. I lost track of time, and dinner will be late if I don’t start now.” Without being told twice, He got right to work.

“What are you making for dinner?”

“Kani salad with some fruits and whatever drink. It’s one of Overhaul’s favorites, so I’m hoping it will calm him down some.”

“I hope so too. I’ve got a mission he's putting me on tomorrow. A first real mission! Not some lame patrol thing or something that leaves me stuck in the base!” A twinge of panic hit your chest at his words. A ‘new recruit’ only being here for five months and being placed on a mission? You couldn’t help but be suspicious and extremely worried. Missions are usually reserved for people who have been here long and have shown their worth. A sinking feeling boiled in your gut.

“Oh? Wow. Not many people get to go on missions this early here…especially not with someone as young as yourself.” You try to hide the uneasiness you feel inside. He didn’t need to see you start panicking. Maybe overhaul got him mixed up with another recruit. He’d been extremely overloaded with stress recently, so maybe he got something mixed up.

“Really?! So he must think I'm doing a great job! That’s perfect!”

“Yeah…perfect.”

~~~

The uneasy feeling never left since you last talked to Gushiken. You desperately wanted to tell him that he shouldn’t take the mission. But, he seemed so determined to prove his worth that you didn’t have the heart in you to crush it in front of him. Plus, it was definitely a misunderstanding. No way Overhaul would put him on a mission so early. 

You haven’t seen Gushiken since your guys talk. Which would have been 5 days after today. It really bothered you not knowing how it went or how it was going. You wanted to ask Overhaul, but he'd probably say it was none of your business like always. Maybe you could ask Hari? That’s if you can catch him. He’s even more busy than he was before! He says good morning, passing by you and running to his next task. How he hasn’t collapsed you’ll never know. 

“(Y/N)?” The sound of the door opening made you look sit up from your bed. Hari stood outside with his mask hidden in his pocket. A distressed face looked back at you.

“Oh Hari! What do you need? You seem upset?” You go to get up only to be stopped mid-action.

“I think you should sit down.” With your brows furrowed, you look at him before slowly sitting back down.

“What's going on?” Closing the door behind him, he hid something behind his back. Continuing to hide it until he sat next to you on the bed. He sent you another sorrowful look before pulling out a familiar mask from behind his back.

“I’m sorry (Y/N), but he’s not coming back.” Handing you the mask that should have concealed the face of Gushiken.

“I-I don’t understand…Where is he? This has to be a joke. A sick joke right?” You looked at Hari pleading that what he was implying was a lie.

“Please tell me it’s a joke, Hari.”

“I’m sorry. He’s not coming home.” Your heart stopped as you looked at the man in front of you with wide eyes. Tears soon pour down your face like a facet as you grip the mask tight. Begging this to be a horrible nightmare. You couldn’t have another important person to you ripped away without a second thought. You should have told him how you felt, tell him not to go on that stupid mission. Now he was gone, and you failed to protect someone you cared about once more.

“(Y/N) there's a random man on the couch again. He’s scary.” The sound of your little brother's voice broke through your slumber.

“Really? Hmm.” You struggle to understand why your mother allowed another random man into her home. Into a home she shared with her two children.

“Here, you can sleep with me. Does that sound good?” You sent a small smile to your brother. Without being told twice, your brother got into your bed. You felt the covers shift as he scooted closer to you. A quiet sigh left your lips as you held him in your arms. Making sure that he felt safe.

“I’ll always protect you. I’ll never let anyone hurt you.” The moonlight shone through your shades, giving your room a comforting glow. A feeling as if you were shielded by the cruel world outside your bedroom door.

“I promise, that I’ll protect you till my dying breath. As long as I’m alive, you’ll never need to fear.”

“Where is Overhaul?”

~~~

The sound of his office door bursting open and hitting the wall caused his thoughts to escape. He looked at the entrance and saw a fuming woman with angry tears rolling down her face. Her body shook as hatred flooded her eyes.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” His words only seemed to fuel her rage as she stomped up to his desk.

“I could say the same! How could you send someone so young to go on such a dangerous mission?!”

“Ah, you must be talking about that recruit-”

“Gushiken Taro! That was his name!” You grit your teeth at your husband's words.

“He was an expendable. We needed a distraction for the mission.”

“He was a someone! He wasn’t just some pawn! He was someone who had his whole life in front of him, only for you to sniff it out!” Slamming the boy's mask on the desk. Getting up from his desk, he looked at you with annoyance. Clearly, you were taking this loss to personally, and that mask you held didn’t help.

“Give me that mask. It’s making you unreasonably upset.” Your husband reached out, only for you to jerk it away quickly.

“Don’t touch it!” A frown was evident from behind his mask as he tried again, yet failing.

“Damnit (Y/N)! Give me that fucking mask!” Taking off his glove, you held the mask tighter to your chest. You weren't gonna let him take away the last thing you had left of him.

“Give. It. To. Me. Now!” With another reach, you move your body to cover the body. As soon as his fingers touched your skin, a searing pain hit you. Every nerve explodes with excruciating pain. It felt as if every cell in your body was being pulled apart. The pain felt so long, yet it could have only been a few seconds before you felt your body quickly being put back together. 

Your body hit the ground with a loud thud. You threw up from the sheer shock, and you could see a small amount of blood even through your teary vision. The mask you had just held dear right next to the door.

“(Y/N) I-I..”

“You…killed me…” You saw him move closer to you, but you scoot away in fear, your back hitting the wall in the process. 

“Don’t come near me! Get away!” You cried in terror as your heartbeat echoed in your ears. 

“(Y/N) Please, I-”

“You really are a monster.” The man above you looked at you in shock. His golden eyes showing more emotion than you’ve ever seen since your wedding with him. You stood up as you hugged the wall, trying to get as far away from him as possible.

“It was an accident (Y/N), I promise!” You only shook your head as you looked into his eyes. 

“For all these years, months, and days, I told myself that you were my cure. That someday, the love of my life would come back to me. That one day, Overhaul would die, and Kai would come back.” Your voice shaky as the air in the office felt poisonous.

“But now…I see that I was a fool. A pathetic, weak fool who held onto false hopes. Trying to pick up the pieces of promises that you broke as you destroyed anything that got in the way of your plan. Destroying everything that the man I once knew would never think of doing. Even through that, I stuck beside you. Because I remember you telling me you’d love me till your dying breath. I was a fool to believe you. I was a fool…for thinking anyone could fall in love with me.” Your body shook violently as you struggled to get air in your lungs.

“You're so cruel. Telling me lies. Calling me horrible names. Hurting me. I-”

“Please (Y/N) forgive me-”

“No. Not anymore. I hate you, Overhaul, and I hate you, Kai Chisaki. I wish I never met you.” Without another word, you grabbed the mask by the door and ran out of the office. Your footsteps echo in the halls, along with your sobs.

~~~

Gushiken's favorite place in the entire compound was the cherry blossom that stood in the backyard. He said that he’d go there to relieve stress from the work day. Saying the falling petals were his worries leaving him as he’d look up to the bright blue sky.

Knowing that, you decided to bury what was left of him right beside the trunk. That way, he will always be at his favorite spot. Watching the petals fall from the beautiful tree and looking up at the sky for eternity. You could even see the other pretty flowers you planted on his grave from on top of the compound roof. 

Hari was out on a mission before you were able to give him his letter. You poured the rest of the love you had to give into the letter. You supposed it was for the best. It makes things easier for him later. You hate to leave him without answers, but…

A shaky breath left your lips as tears poured down your face. The wind blew them off your cheeks with each breeze. Its cold bite attacking your skin as your hair flowed slightly through the wind. The faint smell of cherry blossoms in bloom surrounded you.

Looking up at the night sky, you see the moon watching you from above. With trembling legs, you moved closer to the edge of the compound roof. You simply wished to get a better look. You reached your hand out as if to touch the moon. A smile appears on your tear-ridden face.

“Finally. After all these years, I can be with you, my dear friend.” With a final exhale of breath, you step over the haunting edge of the roof. For once, a sense of peace embraced you as gravity played its part and pulled you back down to the ground.

The moon and stars shined brighter as they danced around the new star in the sky, the long awaited friend of the moon.

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #mha #bnha #overhaul #chisaki kai #kai chisaki #bnha overhaul #mha overhaul #overhaul angst #mha angst #bnha angst #tw death #tw: suicide #tw: blood #tw: abuse

[compassionatereminders]

It’s so weird that people actually appreciate me? Like I started Uni last year and due to Covid regulations lifting I actually got a chance to meet people this year and I tried and it worked? I have several anxiety and social disorders but I pushed myself and now I actually have friends who care! They make plans with me and invite me to stuff and they’re genuinely happy I’m here. It feels freaky and fake but also the phrase “this is what it’s supposed to be like” is circling in my head non-stop. And tbh I wish both my 13 and my 19 year old self could see me now. I feel like I can finally begin healing. Just needed to get that off my chest

I have been through the journey of moving from soul crushing loneliness and isolation to healthy love and genuine friendships - and I am so happy you're getting to experience this kind of healing too!

#chat with kat

[huunov]

You- I can’t believe I am writing this but we are over for good.

I am so deeply heartbroken I haven’t stopped crying, I truly cherished you so much it breaks my heart that we are no longer talking.

You were always more then just a guy to me, you were really my bestest friend, the one person I’d go ran to tell anything that happened small or big you’d be the first person I’d think of sharing everything with.

I don’t know how I’ll be able to over come this and I don’t know if I’ll ever allow anyone else to get this close to me.

I wanted to have a future with you and I wanted to marry you, I really could see spending the rest of my life with you and for all that to come crumbling down it’s so devastating.

I know it’s only been 5 months since we’ve been talking but those 5 months have really felt like 5 years and you’ve completely took over my life.

You’re all I think about and all I want.

The memories of you are haunting me and I keep checking my messages to see if you sent me a text.

I just want to turn back time and I want to go back to how it was.

To us watching ghibli movies and me asking you silly questions.

I miss you so much and I don’t know if I’ll ever fill the hole you’ve left.

You’ve changed my life completly, I don’t know if I will ever be able to get over you.

I remember I sent you that poem of how two people meet again at a supermarket and they buy fruits that rot in different bowls because they both married other people and thinking that the thought of that happening to us breaks my heart but now that is our actual reality.

I guess I should be lucky to have experienced being loved by you, but losing that love makes me wish I never had known it.

The loneliness I feel right now is soul crushing.

It’s making me not want to live life, life without you doesn’t seem worth living.

I really can’t be without you, I just want us to turn back time and go back to how it was but that will never happen.

I don’t know how to go on from here honestly, I don’t want to sound dramatic and I’m embarrassed to admit at how heartbroken I am over a man but I’ve never experienced heartbreak like this in my whole life.

I would have wanted to spend a life time with you, build a life with you, I wouldn’t have cared if you had any money or if my family didn’t like you, to me you were genuinely perfect. I’d have let my family talk shit about me because I know you’re love is more then worth it.

Our connection was so pure and so rare, it’s impossible to replace it.

You’re a once in a lifetime and I’m beyond heartbroken that you will not be my forever.

You will marry someone else and be someone else’s forever, you will love someone else and I’ll always wish I was her.

I will always wish I was her.

#heartbreak

[kat-holden]

Conversation with myself

I entered the room. Two chairs and a desk. Behind the desk, where I assumed would be a wall, if this space even had walls, was a curious wardrobe. I squinted and felt disgust rising up. Rows upon rows of my past selves. As if she skinned me and put them up for display. A grotesque formation of skin, clothes, and hair hung on each hanger.

The darkness deepened and curled at the ends as it left the light. She sat behind her desk, radiating her cruel beauty.. Not looking up from her glossy nails, she motioned with a hand towards the metal folding chair on the opposite side.

I timidly sat down, feeling the biting cold. Hands on my thighs, not knowing where to put them. I clear my throat.

“We need to talk.” I told her, looking down at my feet. I could not face her. Not yet.

“We are not friends, you and I.” She pursed her lips and gently blew on the nail she was filing. None of us could look the other in the eyes. Contempt on her end, fear on mine.

“We are not even acquaintances. Just contemptuous roommates that occupy the same space.” Why do I sound so apologetic?

“What is it that you want?” finally looking up, eyes borrowing into me.

“I think you need to stop. You always go too far.” My voice betrays my fear.

“Your clothes are getting bigger. Not eating looks good on you.” The sides of her mouth curl up with cruelty.

“Stop it.” My voice sounded more pleading than I wish it did.

“You very well know I will not. My only purpose is this.”

“Then...dial it down. Life is no longer even sepia colored, you made it black and white. It is too much.”

“You will survive. You have been through worse. We both know that.”

“Why can’t you be good to me?” I sounded like a little girl. I hated myself for that.

She looked at me, tapping a finger on a manila folder on her desk.

“You know what’s in there. You lived through it. Do I need to spell it out for you?”

“But... most of these things were not my fault. Why do I need to suffer for other people’s mistakes?”

“That’s how life is. I don’t make the rules.”

“Liar! You do make the rules. You are in command and I am your puppet. You torture me every day relentlessly.”

That cruel smile again. “Because I am the only one that knows you best.”

Sullenly I tell her, “I have had good days, you know. When you are not there.”

“I am always there. Who allows you to have good days, you think? It was me. I am the only one you will ever have.”

“You are the only one that will not leave no matter what I do.”

“And you love me. Without me, you will be nothing.”

“I don’t want this! I want me, you to be normal. I don’t want a personal tormentor.”

“Too bad. This is all you get. All you deserve.”

“What if I just tell people? Tell them all about the sorrow you cause me daily.”

“We both know you will not do that. Remember what we agreed upon when we met all those years ago?”

“Yes, to stay quiet and you will let me live long enough to maybe even enjoy it a bit.” I said in a defeated voice.

“You will never be brave enough to tell a living soul. You are too scared to burden other people with your problems. You are so afraid of them judging you or even worse - worrying about you that you will languish and slowly wither here with me.” her demonic smile widened.

I kept my head down and said nothing.

“Silent at the face of confrontation, as always. If you weren’t so pitiful, I might even admire my work. How crushed you are underneath my heel.” her dreadful smile grew unnaturally wide, showing rows upon rows of sharp teeth.

I was not going to back down. Not again. I balled my hands into fists, nails digging in my palms.

“I will end it then! And you will die with me. Even Death sounds better than you!”

“End it? You?” her beautiful face twisted and distorted into an amalgamation of terrifying images. The demons she sends me at night - desperation and loneliness with their horribly stretched faces, mouths gaping wider than humanly possible, gums devout of teeth and their eye sockets empty and vast as eternity.

Thousands of voices echoed in my mind at the same time.

“You cannot even take your own life, girl.” She threw the folder at me and it fell on the floor, pictures falling out. I couldn’t look at them and squeezed my eyes shut.

“Remember when you couldn’t even pick a high enough place to jump from? Or when you couldn’t even bleed to death in your own bathroom?” her face continued to twitch and as if her skin began to boil from underneath. Flesh bubbles rising and bursting open time and time again.

“End it?! she continued to scream in my head “Why do you think you have the power to do that? I control you. I call the shots of what happens to your useless body and disintegrating mind.” the voices were now speaking in unison. I instinctively put my hands over my ears, but it was no use.

She raised her perfectly manicured hand, and I heard the ghostly sound of the invisible chain that connected us pull on my wrist.

Suddenly I was plunged into darkness so deep that if I held my hand up, I would not be able to see it. The chair was gone, and it took me a while to realize I was floating, slowly bobbing up and down as if in water. My lungs burned. Why was I holding my breath?

Fear crawled down my spine as it dawned on me. The need to take a deep breath became the only thing I was thinking about. My chest tightened and panic settled in quickly. I flayed my hands and feet, but they might as well have been cemented. An invisible hand curled around my ankle and pulled me further down. I could hear her terrible voice, a sickly purr in my ear.

“You forget I am in your head. You have no private thoughts. This is a small preview of what you have been fantasizing about. How do you like it so far? Oh, sorry, forgot you can’t speak.”

The depths illuminated, and I saw her enormous face at the bottom. Her gorgeous eyes were now milky white, no pupils or eyelids. Her perfect lips were fish like and opened wide with several rows of jagged teeth going down.

I kicked at her hand, but I was in slow motion and she kept dragging me closer to her monstrous mouth.

“If you ever try to kill yourself again, I will make sure to wait long enough before I save you so that you turn into a vegetable. Then I will be the only one left to talk to. Until someone stops your assisted breathing out of mercy.”

My lungs longed for respite, and against everything my body told me, I took a breath.

A pained gasp escaped my throat. Cold sweat covered me and the bed. Breathe.

Bleak morning light streamed from my windows. I balled the sheet in a fist and tried to steady myself. It was just a dream.

A sweeping look of my small bedroom reminded me that I was safe. Relax.

I swung my feet off the bed, the cold floor giving me courage. You are safe.

The light in the bathroom flickered and turned on. The tiny mirror needed cleaning, but I could see her cruel eyes looking back at me. I will always be here, darling. Watching you closely. And when you close your eyes, you will be back with me again.

Bile and anger rose in my throat. Without thinking, my fist landed in the middle of the mirror, shattering it. Blood and glass fell to the floor. Don’t be mad, my dear. You know how much I love you.

A ghostly finger ran down my cheek. Followed by a tear.

[missuga]

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎 — Keishin Ukai

Summary: moving in with ukai was always a bad idea, and even worse when you fell for him | 2.3k

Content Warnings and wc: mdni, angst, toxic ukai, a bit of manipulation, swearing, suggestive themes

Note from Em: i have no words... speechless and deceased, will there ever be a happy ukai fic  from me ? we shall see

They say there’s a spilt second when you decide something where you can tell if it’s good for you or not. It was never like that in your case though, you never saw the mistakes you made until it was so far passed being able to fix.

That’s okay exactly what happened when you moved in with Ukai. You were more than naïve to think it was a good idea, but you needed a roommate, and so did he. So you figured you’d make it work.

People had told you it was probably not a good idea to move in with him, you hadn’t been friends for that long. There were stories about him from college, but they were so different than how he had treated you, so you chose to ignore them.

Him moving in went smoothly, and you settled into a routine quickly. Months passed and you grew closer than you had before, knowing him now as a friend and a roommate.

Things had been good with him for a while. Living with him was different than you thought it’d be, but it was good.. Until it wasn’t.

It was good until that one god forsaken night when you both were a little too lonely, and a little too drunk. You can’t remember who started it, but you wished you could take it back.

The next morning you asked what it meant, if things were going to change between the two of you.

It was a mutual decision to try something. Nothing too serious, just to feel out what was between you. You could do casual.

Flashes of that night played in your mind for weeks, his touch was so gentle, so loving. Something you hadn’t felt in a long time, and it was addicting. It was so much different than the Ukai you’d grown to know, and you wanted to see more of that side of him.

The low airy moans of your name falling from his lips echoed in your head, you wished you could keep that memory forever, when everything was good with him, when you were his.

To say that you fell for him fast was an understatement. Heart beating a little too fast for casual. Maybe you had already liked him before that night and never knew it. Maybe you were just a littler lonelier than him.

Whatever it was, it was soul crushing now.

You knew not to get your hopes up, being burned like this before but you couldn’t help it. Especially not when you were literally falling asleep in his arms every night for the past month. But, as much as you liked being close to him, you wanted more than just late-night sappy conversations after he came back from work.

Thing’s had been slowing down, everything felt like they were almost stopping with him. He was quieter than usual, coming back to the apartment later and later. You tried hard to not let the worst-case scenarios be true, but it was hard.

“Kei?”

“Hm?” His eyes didn’t leave his phone as he answered.

“What do you think about going out?” Your fingers nervously play with the glass in your hand, it took everything in you to keep your eyes on him.

“Sure.” He scrolled on his phone still, not really focused on you at all. “Want to come grocery shopping with me tomorrow?”

You sat in silence for a second. Processing what he had said, surely he didn’t hear you right.

“that’s not what i meant.” You sit up, setting your empty glass on the coffee table and turning to face him better. “Like, do you want to go on a.. Date?”

This time ukai looked up at you. There was almost no visible expression of what he was thinking on his face, except for the way his lips turned down.

“Not really. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

That wasn’t what you had been expecting, you could feel your stomach drop further when he didn’t say anything else, the thick silence shifting between you was unbearable.

“I’m just.. Really busy the next couple weeks.”

“that’s okay.” Was all you could manage, and when his eyes when back to the stupid phone in his hands you pushed off the couch. “I’m gonna go to bed, have to wake up early tomorrow.”

You thought he’d come after you. Bring you into his room like he did every other night, but you fell asleep alone hugger your pillow a little closer than normal.

The next day, everything seemed a little better. Waking up to Ukai softly tracing his knuckle down your cheek, whispered apologies softening the knot that had twisted in your chest the whole night before.

He promised that in the next week he’d get off a shift to take you on a proper date. A real one. Not just take out and Netflix.

But, once again, you were met with nothing but disappointment when the day finally rolled around.

He’d texted you in the morning, saying that he got called into work, but he’d be out well before the time you were to leave for the date at seven. Despite this, you were excited. Spending the whole day thinking about the date, getting ready much earlier than you needed to.

When you four p.m. flashed on your phone you started to get a little worried, he was supposed to have left work at four. Maybe he was only running late. He wasn’t prone to being on time anyways, you had nothing to worry about.

It wasn’t until your texts sent at five thirty asking when he was going to get out remained unanswered the familiar knot started to twist in your stomach again.

There was no answer still at six when you sent another text, then at seven your call rang twice and went straight to voicemail.

Around nine thirty was when it sank in that he wasn’t coming back to the apartment anytime soon.

You tried your best to fight the tears threatening to spill makeup down your cheeks. You sat in silence on the ground next to your bed you couldn’t find it in you to change out of the dress you wore. Eyes shut tightly as your head rests back against your mattress.

You hadn’t felt disappointment so deeply in your bones in a long time. Even if he had called you back, saying it was all a mistake, that something crazy had happened and he lost his phone, you weren’t sure that you could let it go.

After a while you peeled yourself off the ground, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror sitting in the corner of your room made you feel almost pitiful.

Mascara streaked down your cheeks and hands from wiping at your eyes, the dress you spent forever picking out was wrinkled and stained with the tears that hadn’t stopped flowing earlier.

Your clock showed ten thirty when you begrudgingly went to your bathroom to take of the makeup you had perfected. Your attention being pulled at the sound of the front door clicking open.

Familiar footsteps sounded in the quiet apartment with each heavy step Ukai took.

Half of you wanted to shut your bedroom door and ignore him, but the other half screamed for you to go talk to him. The overwhelming ache to figure out why he didn’t answer you was too much, and you found your body moving through the door before realizing it.

“Keishin.” You said quietly once you reached him in the kitchen, barely able to look up at him.

He didn’t say anything, just glancing at you once before turning around to the cupboard.

“Where were you?” That came out shakier than you intended it to, and it felt like forever before he said anything.

“I was out.”

His voice was gravelly, and the words slurred together as he spoke.

“Are you drunk?” You asked in pure disbelief, it didn’t make any sense. He didn’t say anything once again and you noticed he’d filled up a small glass with liquor. “What happened to our date?”

His eyes locked onto yours as he sipped from the glass, there was a darkness swimming in them that you’d never seen before, and it sent chills down your back.

“Kei? Are you-”

“God, shut the fuck up.” He interrupted you, tone full of venom as he slammed his glass onto the counter, whiskey spilling over the edges of the cup.

Your eyes widened at that, he was so different, nothing like the person you’d known.

“Did you forget that we aren’t dating?” Ukai asked, shifting closer to you he pushed a hand through the hair falling into his eyes. “You are not my girlfriend, what about casual do you not understand.”

You’re too shocked to say anything, tears burning the back of your eyes once more at his words. On instinct you reached out to him, but he flinched away from your hand.

“Just leave me alone, fuck.” He groaned, looking at you one last time before pushing passed you, heading toward his room.

Falling asleep after that was hard.

Every time you closed your eyes you heard his words again, they mixed with everything you thought you had with him so much until each memory was too muddy to know what was real or not. Maybe all those memories with him weren’t ever yours.

The little amount of sleep you were able to get did nothing for the exhaustion swimming through your body, weighing heavy on your shoulders.

“Morning.”

You freeze in your spot at the counter, wishing time would go faster. All you wanted to do was grab your coffee and leave.

Ukai rubs his hand down his face as he steps into the kitchen, and you tighten the hold on the mug of coffee in your hand.

“Hey.” You mumble, not sure how else to respond. Keeping your eyes fixed on the counter, you try to ignore the way your stomach twists. You’re hyperaware of his movements. They’re the same as they’ve always been, but somehow they feel different.

The silence falling over you is thick, and awkward. It feels suffocating as he shifts into the stool across from you at the island. You drink down the rest of your coffee too quickly, the warm liquid burning your throat as you swallow.

The way he’s acting so casual has you your stomach twisting, if you stayed in the kitchen with him any longer you’re sure you’d be sick.

As much as you wanted to tell him exactly how you felt, to yell some sense into him. To tell him that this was his fault, you couldn’t. Because it was your fault for falling for him in the first place.

You barely make it to your room before it gets hard to breathe. Shame, guilt, disappointment, it all bubbles up in your stomach, and then you’re crying. Thick, hot tears spill over, streaking down your cheeks.

“Fuck.”

Clenching your teeth you wipe at the tears with the back of your hand, this was not how you wanted your morning to go. You’d promised yourself that you wouldn’t cry, that he wasn’t worth it.

“You okay?” Ukai’s voice sounds through your closed door, it takes everything in you to not tell him to fuck off. You stayed silent hoping he’d just go away on his own. “I’m coming in.”

“Fucking hell.” You curse under your breath as you turn to look at him.

It’s awkward for a moment as he looks at you, eyes so different from how he looked at you just last night, you almost didn’t know who he was anymore.

“I’m sorry.” 

It comes so abruptly that you almost missed it. 

“I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know what happened, why I did that.” He steps closer to you, eyebrows furrowing further as he talks. “I can’t remember all that I said to you, but I’m sorry for missing the date.”

“You didn’t miss the date. You stood me up.” Your voice is steady surprisingly, crossing your arms over your chest it’s hard to not give into how sad his voice sounds, but you can’t tell if it’s real or not. 

“I know. I’m a fucking asshole, I just got scared.” He breathes in deep, as if he’s preparing himself to say his next words. “I really fucking like you, but I haven’t been in a relationship in so long, I don’t want to hurt you.”

You can’t find anything to say back to him. The look plastered on his face shows that he’s hurting, you want to comfort him but it’s so hard to tell if your eyes are lying to you.

“Let me try again.” He’s practically begging now, and your heart breaks.

As much as you want to tell him to fuck off, to find someone else he can be nothing with, you can’t. Everything you felt for him didn’t go away overnight.

“Please, I’ll do better. I’ll be better, I want us to be something.”

You’re fighting tears again as you close the space between you, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him to you.

“Okay, it’s okay.”

You couldn’t bear to see him like this, even though he treated you like shit, he was yours once. He could be yours again.

“We can try.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #ukai x reader #ukai keishin #ukai keishin angst #ukai oneshot #ukai keishin oneshot #haikyu angst #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!! #coach ukai #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu x you #haikyu x you #hq x reader #ukai x you #ukai keishin x you

[oven-thermometer]

SFW ABCs of Death

Warnings: made up Nephilim traditions, angst, fluff, nothing else really.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

The only affection you should expect daily are small gifts or words of encouragement. Physical affection like hugs or kisses are reserved for behind closed doors where no one can see the walls he's only ever let you behind. And those walls aren't even the tall ones.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Most his "friends" are ones from work. The Makers are probably the ones he's still the most connected to, really. He's sarcastic, reserved and he looks like he doesn't care at all when in reality he's one of the most loyal friends you could ever come across. He let's very few beings call themselves acquainted with him, but if he calls you a friend he will fight tooth and nail to keep that.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Once you two have been in an established relationship for a while he'll realize just how cut off he's made himself. He was aware to an extent but he wasn't aware how far into his bones the loneliness had seeped until one day you waddled up to him and asked if you two could lie down on the couch. You didn't look sick or particularly upset so that wasn't the issue - this dumby really said "Why?" in response. You had stumped him. When you told him you just wanted to cuddle he short circuited but obliged.

Now he loves them! He'll prefer to be the big spoon, it makes him feel like he's protecting you. But again this still only happens rarely and in private.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

The amount this man wants to buy a house and live as peacefully as he can is infinite. He wouldn't mind his siblings there either, as much as they annoy him. As long as you're their he couldn't care less where he is really. He's really good at cooking and cleaning too I'd imagine. Realistically though, it will take years for the Council to let him have his freedom - he'll stay with you for as long as he can though.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He'd distance himself from you all of a sudden. He'd be cold and would stop all forms of affection, always brushing you off with 'I'm too tired' or 'Why are you so clingy?'

He needs you to hate him and he needs to forget why he ever loved you, that way he doesn't feel it as much.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He'd be very slow to even think about such a commitment - humans hold this ceremony in high regard yes, but for Nephilim it's an eternal ritual that bonds souls. Whether it was between a group or just two, the intensity of the chord created between beings can never be severed no matter how much anyone wished it. That is how it had been and if Death was going to get married to you, he'd want you two to do this ritual (with your full knowledge and consent).

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Physically? He treats you like a sculpture made of glass that had been dipped in pure gold. You're worth more to him than his own life and if he ever hurt you he wouldn't forgive himself.

Emotionally? Well. He'll tease you, make fun of you and will be as blunt as a rock - but he hardly actually means any of it. It's just in his nature. Fret not though, he is always there if you need a shoulder :)

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

His hugs are firm and feel bone-crushing at times. Others are gentle, those occur when he feels like his sanity has been stabbed with rusted daggers and left to rot. He gives you a minimum of one or two hugs a day.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Like with the marriage thing, the L-word is also something he takes slow. To be fair, there probably isn't one singular word to express 'love' or 'adoration' in the Nephilim language if you think about their soul bond. So you'll probably have to inform him of the true meaning behind that word, and he realizes it kind of perfectly describes how he feels about you a lot of the time. He doesn't outwardly express this though, gotta keep up those walls y'know.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He's comfortable enough in your relationship that he doesn't really get all that jealous - but he can't help himself from getting a bit salty when he sees you get too close to his stupid brother or when his sister keeps touching your face when teaching you about makeup. He hates himself for it - he knows you love him, so why does he feel like this?

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

I'm a devout believer in young!Death being the kind of guy that romanced every single woman in his sights and killed their hearts afterwards. Add that to the things he hates himself for will you?

Due to this, he knows exactly how and where to kiss. He prefers giving angel or bunny kisses especially, they seem so intimate to him. If you want to make his non-existent heart flutter give him a kiss on his collarbone, forehead or even the edge of his mouth. That's reminiscent of when he still wore his mask 24/7.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Dislikes them mostly and doesn't really want them. He's raised his fair share of children and he doesn't care for it at this point.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Death never sleeps. Be it because of eons of uneasy nights or the raging nightmares that lie beneath, he cannot sleep. You almost always wake up to Death staring down at you, his amber eyes searing a hole through you. He likes watching you sleep, it relaxes him and makes him calm. He's always the first to get up, regardless of whether you're still asleep at a certain time or not.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He enjoys reading with you, watching odd human shows or watching you do your own thing at night. He's simply content being in your presence, that's all.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Take a wild guess.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

This man has the patience of a God. It seems as though sometimes he can get easily irritated by people and their antics but other than that his lifetime of training has formed him into the master of patience.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

His mind is like a steel trap - which is both a blessing and a curse depending on how you look at it. He will remember each mannerism, dislike, like and memory concerning you. And for that sole reason, for a moment, he's glad that he cannot forget.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

He has many cherished moments, but his absolute favorites are the nights he takes you on rides with Despair, the silver moonlight making your hair look like it's made of pearl, not that he would be surprised. The chill night air running down his spine makes his senses crisp. This, sitting behind his beloved, staring at the vast expanse of Earth, is where he wishes to stay for eternity.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

If you met during the apocalypse, he wouldn't let you out of his sight. Need the bathroom? Sorry he's sending Dust with you. Wanna walk on your own? You're gonna get ambushed by demons. No.

This would continue afterwards as well, but it would be far less intense. He's protective but not irrational. You're relatively safe now, so he simply keeps track of where you should be. He has your entire schedule mapped out into his head and if you don't come home at the right time or if he doesn't get one of those "texts" during your lunchbreak he will respectfully chew you out once you get home.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

This man gives his all to almost every tasks he sets his mind to, you think he's gonna skimp on dates or gifts? Due to his memory, he never forgets an anniversary or birthday and because he usually gives you small gifts, he has a good idea of what you like and don't like regarding that.

He'll help out with chores and things you need assistance with whenever you ask - but you're an adult and unless you're asking he's not going to baby you and do everything for you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Whenever he's having a particular bad day, he will be extremely reluctant to tell you or let you help. Your presence helps yes, but it doesn't always quell the storm that threatens to tear him apart from the inside out. As a result of this, you begin to feel like you're not helping at all - you feel useless. You want to help but you also want to respect his boundaries.

If you ever bring this up with him he will reassure you that if it were not for you the storm would have taken over a very long time ago. It was a storm but there's a reason those bad days don't cloud over the rest of his life, and that reason is the fact that he gets to hold you every night. The fact that you have gifted him the memories of your existence.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

It's a running joke that Death smells terrible and I couldn't agree more.

Let me explain, I don't think the base of Death smells like anything actually. He doesn't bleed or sweat, so he doesn't smell like anything at all. Although, he is covered in blood, guts and viscera almost all of the time and that is what makes him smell so bad, since there aren't many baths where he goes.

After his life calmed down slightly though, you helped him regain some control. You showed him the wonders of shampoo and deodorant. And now he gets to feel slightly better about himself, even if it does nothing to really fill the idea of self-love in the slightest.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Death has been alone for eons, and as he looks back on those lonely and trauma-ridden years he decides he's gotten quite used to this part of his life. He would in fact feel incomplete without you, as he doesn't want to go back to how it was before. You make him feel content.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He often thinks about surprising you at your work. Showing up with flowers, another gift, or just a free offer to skip the rest of the day and come with him. Hearing that lovely chirp in the back of your throat when he shows you his hand to take is what gets him up in the morning.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Death isn't a particulary picky partner, but if you're someone with no sense of boundaries or personal space he's gonna have to have a talk with you. Just give him time, he'll let you in don't you worry.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

The only time you ever saw Death sleep, was the night you gave him a back rub. You could feel the cold muscles beneath his skin, and how rigid they were. This was another memory with you he'd be sure to cherish and keep in his soul, as one would a precious stone. He slept only for a few hours, but in that time you had crawled beside him to gently tuck yourself in the crevice of his body. When he was fully awake he didn't intend on moving. You were fast asleep, and oddly enough, you were smiling while unconscious. He let himself relax here, paving feather light kisses all over your face. As you woke with light giggles he felt his empty heart burn.

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #darksiders II #darksiders death #death #sfw abc #sfw #fanfiction #darksiders fanfiction

[willyoulovemeinthemorning]

The Cold Never Bothered Me Anyway (1/?)

Loki Laufeyson x Reader

Summary: You are a mutant with the powers of ice and cold and you have never been able to be touched or touch anyone without making them uncomfortable, or worse, hurting them. You’ve always desperately wished for physical affection, and it isn't until a new silver tongued Asgardian moves into the Avengers tower and takes an interest in you that anyone really dares to try to be physical with you.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: This part is pure fluff, but future chapters will be... more. 

Warnings: None for this chapter besides maybe a few cavities!

It had been like this since you’d been a child. You couldn’t remember a life without your ailment. You’d always seen it as a curse more than a blessing- but as you grew up and learned to control it to the best of your abilities, your mind started to change a little bit. Being adopted into Xaviers Academy had been the best thing that could have happened to you. You’d been homeless at the young age of 5 after your third foster family had thrown you out, and Charles had found you sleeping in the snow. It was lucky for you that you didn’t mind the cold at all- your powers were the cold. You could freeze anything, alive or not- and at first that was the problem. You’d frozen your mother’s heart whilst in the middle of a tantrum, and your father met the same fate after he tried to hurt you for doing it. The police found a crying child within hours, surrounded by dead parents and a house full of ice and snow. No one could prove what happened, and no one knew what to do with you from then on. After a life of constant abuse, Charles took you into a world of safety and understanding, and thankfully, that world was really the only world you knew in your conscious mind today.

The trauma was still there, but it was rooted deep in your subconscious mind. Now, as an adult, you’d been taken in to your new chosen family- The Avengers. And your home was no longer at the Academy, it was Avengers Tower. You still taught there every once in a while, whenever Charles called you, but your days were filled with world saving and working out with the worlds mightiest superheroes.

Your best friends in the complex were easily Natasha and Wanda, seeing as you all came from similar lonely backgrounds. It was a quick friendship built on trust, sarcasm, and constant blatant flirting and fucking with eachother. You loved the whole team differently, but Nat and Wanda were definitely special.

Besides them, you were definitely a little… taken with a new member of the household. When Loki was taken in by the Avengers to try and “change” him for the sake of Thor, life definitely got a little… uncomfortable. He was just so attractive, and so sassy and his smart mouth was probably the hottest thing about him. That silver tongue as you’d heard it been called constantly got your mind whirling. The girls mocked you ruthlessly for your crush, but they never pushed it to be more- they both knew your fear of relationships, friendship or otherwise.

Loki, on the other hand, was equally as enamored with you as you were him. He never stopped watching you, trying to learn every facet of your soul as he could from far away. There was something about you, and he looked at you as a puzzle that he desperately wanted to solve.

He loved watching you with your friends- the way you all so effortlessly joked and laughed with eachother- you had what he’d always wanted. An ease with earning love from others with no effort whatsoever. But something that plagued him was the juxtaposition that was your physical affection. You were so jovial and happy with everyone in the house- but you never let anyone touch you. You never touched anyone else either.

At first, he put it to what he knew was your background- abuse and loneliness. Maybe you’d been hurt more than you let on, so you didn’t let people touch you. But he threw out that hypothesis when he spent more time watching you. You always leaned in towards everyone close to you- and they leaned more away as if trying to retreat from your proximity. When with Natasha and Wanda, they always went to touch you, and you just stopped them with a look. It was such a sad look, and Loki longed to understand the pain behind your eyes. The women would pause, sigh, and take their hands back, pull their bodies back, put more distance between you and them, seemingly hurt at having to.

Today was no different. Loki was sitting on a chair in the library by the window with it open, pretending to read a book but actually watching you, while you were lazing on the couch actually reading a book. Something you had both grown very fond of in your time together. Neither of you said much, but you just enjoyed the company of one another with the chill wind coming in from outside. That’s when Natasha came to sit with you. You moved your legs and curled them up into yourself, but something new happened. Natasha, who threw something at you- ah, it was a cookie- to get your attention, and you laughed and ate it while looking at her curiously. She covered herself with a big, thick blanket, and then patted her lap for you to put your legs on top of her. You thought about it, looking pained and unsure, before slowly giving in, your eyes weary with doubt. But… nothing happened. Natasha smiled like the cat who got the cream as she pulled her phone out, and you went back to reading your book with the loveliest look of surprised warmth Loki had ever seen gracing your beautiful features.

After a little while, your eyes started fluttering shut, and you moved yourself so your head was on the red heads lap instead of your legs, and you fell asleep faster than you ever had in your life- a few happy tears falling down your cheeks.

Loki watched you sleep and forgot to put on the facade of reading, which caught the attention of Natasha, who didn’t even look up from her phone. “Whatcha staring at, Loki?” She asked, continuing to scroll.

Loki looked up at her surprise etched into his eyebrows. “Oh, nothing. I just- She’s never let anyone that close to her- how did you do that?” He asked her, eyes falling back to you.

“Y/N doesn’t let anyone touch her because she’s watched them flinch away from how cold she is her whole life. If they’re not flinching away, she hurts them by accident because most of the touches of her life have been dangerous or abusive, and she’s had to protect herself. Her powers don’t ever really turn off, they just… quiet. As long as we’ve been friends, this is the closest I’ve ever gotten to her letting me touch her.” She said, eyes on him now, watching his expressions. “Why do you care to notice?”

His eyes flew back to hers, trying to guard his expression from her knowing gaze. “I was just curious. Trying to figure you all out- she’s been the hardest to understand.” But his eyes falling back to your face gave him away, and when he looked back at Natasha, he knew she knew. She had the decency not to say anything, but the look on her face was enough to make Loki look back to his book and actually try to read this time to avoid any more speculation.

Days passed, and all he could think about was the look on your face when you were able to get some kind of physical affection- and he wanted to see it again. So this time, when he found you in the library like he always did- he didn’t choose the chair by the window. He sat down next to you. You looked up at him, and he could feel your surprise.

You eyed him up and down, and he just smiled that little smile that seemed to be only reserved for you, and started to read. The window was open, as it always was- this was your favorite room, because almost no one came in here besides Loki, and he never seemed to mind your proclivity towards keeping this room cold.

You two were like that for a while, but you started to notice him leaning more towards you- you were already at the end of the couch, so there wasn’t really anywhere for you to go, so you tried to will yourself to calm down and just focus on reading. His presence always calmed you down, he was so charming and kind- well, he was kind to you. You loved watching him read, as his tongue poked out as he was really involved with the words on the page.

Unable to focus on your page in front of you, you instead focused on the way he felt beside you. Normally, when someone was near you, you could feel their warmth radiating off of them- especially Thor and Steve. They seemed to have very naturally high body temperatures, and it made you feel itchy, like there was fire licking at your skin. Vision was one of your favorites to be near- his presence felt like nothing. No warm or cold coming off of him, so completely neutral and it made it very easy to be around him. Loki… well, Loki had never been close enough for you to be able to tell. You expected him to feel like Thor did, seeing as they were both Gods and all, and came from the same place; Asgard. But… Loki felt different. He was… normal? Well, normal for her, that was. He didn’t feel warm, he didn’t feel like anything? He kind of felt like Vision, and that surprised her.

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you scootched a little closer to him, your feet brushing his thigh on the couch next to you. You watched out of the corner of your eye for a reaction- but there was nothing negative. If that had happened with Peter, he would have shivered a little and pulled away from the touch because of how cold you were. Tony would have made a joke like, “Just because the cold doesn’t bother you, Elsa, doesn’t mean the rest of us are like that,” and you’d pull away embarrassed at the reminder of how different you are.

Loki moved again, tucking his feet under himself, which repositioned his upper half to be a centimeter from being arm and arm with you. And considering his button up had the sleeves rolled up and you could see his arm hair- God, you wanted to play with it- you were almost skin to skin. Your hands started shaking and you were about to pull away to protect yourself from the inevitable pain that would come from seeing him flinch away in pain- but before you could, it happened. His skin was pressed up against you, and your heart sped up three times as fast… and nothing bad happened. He didn’t move, he didn’t flinch, his face looked… serene? He looked happy touching you.

Now the gates were open and you needed to know more- know why.

“Loki?” You asked, your head turned to face him.

When he turned to face you, you could feel his breath on your face. “Yes, darling?” You almost choked on your spit- he’d never spoken to you with that endearment before.

“Why- I mean… How? I… Loki-” You tried to get a reasonable sentence out, but the words got caught in your throat as tears started prickling your vision.

Loki put his book down and turned to face you, movements slow as if he was afraid to spook you away. “Can I try something?” He asked, hands in his lap, waiting for permission for something. You nodded dumbly, completely unsure what was about to happen. All you knew was that a door had been opened to something, and you knew there was no going back now. Loki’s hands moved, and your instincts were to pull away from him, but you fought them. You wanted to see what was going to happen here. His hands found yours, and he covered them with his own. His skin was so soft, and you looked down and noticed that his skin started to turn a different color- so you pulled away, worried you were hurting him. But you hadn’t felt a surge of your own power?

You were about to ask him, but he beat you to it with the answer. “Did you know I was adopted? Odin stole me from my home when I was a baby- whether to hurt my people or to use me as a peace making tool, I still haven’t figured out, but I am not really Loki Odinson. I am a Frost Giant from birth, raised as an Asgardian. My birth name is Loki Laufeyson. The blue you just saw was… a piece of my real form, coming out at your touch, not because you were in any way hurting or negatively affecting me… so please, let me-” He reached out again, but this time, one hand found your face, his thumb running over your cheek bone, while the other hand ran over your arm softly. Your eyes fluttered closed- his touch was like nothing you’d ever experienced. He somehow felt the same temperature as you did to yourself. He wasn’t cold or hot, he was just… perfect. The tears that were threatening to spill before finally did, and Loki raised his other hand to cup both sides of your face and wipe away the tears as they fell.

“I’ve finally figured you out. It took longer than it ever has for me, but I’ve done it. I’ve never been so taken with figuring someone out before, not like this. You don’t pull away from people because you don’t want physical affection- you pull away because you’ve never had anyone who could physically handle you. No one’s temperature matched you. You’ve never been able to be touched gently. You’ve never been able to let yourself. You are so strong, my popsicle, but you don’t have to be anymore. I was made to be able to touch you, and be touched by you.” You opened your eyes and took him in in his base form- he was the most beautiful shade of icy turquoise, his eyes red as rubies, and he was touching you. He was touching you so lovingly and so sweetly, you couldn’t stop crying. In all your years, you had never been touched like this. No one ever could. Without a beat, you clambered up into his lap and wrapped your arms around him, sighing when his arms wound their way around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“I’m not hurting you?” You asked, your voice shaking.

“Not in the way you mean, darling, but you are hugging me a little tight.” You felt his chuckle vibrate in your chest, which made you laugh too. “Don’t stop, though.” He whispered into your hair.

“You’re so beautiful, you know. Why don’t you let people see your real self?” You asked, burrowing your face in his neck, pressing your nose into the column of his throat.

“I’ve spent my whole life using my magic to make myself look a certain way- it’s more or less unconscious at this point. And I’m… a little insecure about this form. Very few people have seen me look like this. And it’s never been for a good, healthy reason like this.”

“Well, I’m honored. Thank you for this. No one… no one has ever been able to touch me without it hurting them. Thank you so much, Loki.” After a few more minutes of you straddling him on the couch, wrapped around him, you came to your senses enough to know that this was probably not completely appropriate- so you got off of him as a blush crept from your cheeks to your neck to your chest, smiling shyly and biting your lip.

Loki thought you were beautiful before, but you’d never looked more beautiful than you did right in that moment.

You went back to reading together, enjoying the chill air fill the room from the window, pressed up against one another on the couch- comfortable for the first time in your life.

Part 2

#loki fanfic #loki (marvel) #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #reader insert #reader fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #loki fanfiction

[pastelsandpining]

Whumptober Day 1

all trussed up and still nowhere to go

“you have to let go” | barbed wire | bound

kingdom come - corrupt!zelda au | part 2 

warnings: survivor’s guilt, trauma, gory imagery/body horror (descriptions of Ganon), injury mention, burn mention, blood mention, nausea, head injury, loss of consciousness, acceptance of death, binds, manipulation

____________________

Looking out at the rolling plains, the baby blue sky, the lively green grass, and the flourishing wildlife nearly everywhere he could see, it was hard to believe that Hyrule was decimated a century ago. Where life bloomed now, death had once spread, and it was anything but beautiful when the fields were burning—when guardians and monsters alike chased down any and all living things. It was hard to take down powerful beasts and even more so when they didn’t stay down.

But just like those vile creatures who only wanted to cause chaos, Hyrule never really died either. It was the quick and clever thinking of Princess Zelda that saved them all by containing the beast of Calamity inside of the very place she once called home. She was a thing of myth some hundred years later when people recalled her beauty or her bravery. If it were not for the moons scorched with blood, or the chilling cry of a colossal demon, or the guardians still roving over the land, one could find themselves thinking that the story of Hyrule was nothing more than a cautionary fairytale. What moral could come from such devastating times? Do not run from fate, or you will end up as caged as the Hyrulean Princess? Do not put heart above duty, or you will fall just as the legendary hero? Or perhaps, do not put trust in things you cannot always control?

Really, there was no lesson to be learned. Destruction would come as it did, and there was nothing they could’ve done to stop it. At least, that’s what Link told himself on the many nights he was found unable to sleep, too haunted by the ghosts of his past and terrorized by the stalling sensation of guilt. How solemn that sounded, how pitiful. He did not want pity. What good did that do him, when he’d already lost everything? He’d fallen once, and that cost him his friends, his life, the place he called home–pity would not bring that back. Hymns of brave soldiers and lost princesses would not bring that back. Stories that turned a traumatizing cause of devastation into a life lesson would not bring that back.

The only thing he wanted, months after waking in a shrine to a beautiful voice and with a fractured soul, was peace. He wanted to toss the sword of legend aside and never look at it again. He wanted to curl up in the bed of his Hateno home and sleep for another hundred years, or at least, until the pictures of a burning kingdom and the unholy screeching of Calamity Ganon disappeared just long enough for his mind to go quiet. He wanted to try to be normal, for even just a moment. No hero, no revenge, nothing of the sort.

It was a shame that the image of what he wanted was incomplete without the princess he’d once devoted his heart and soul to. He could not remember her in the way he would’ve liked. Link was granted a glimpse of her face here, a whisper of her voice there, a ghost of her touch when the loneliness became too much. On the few occasions he remembered more, when he could see her so very clearly in a moment framed in time, it felt almost like a dream. A dream that he didn’t want to wake up from. And just like a pleasurable dream that left one feeling warm and special, Zelda slipped through his fingers like liquid, faster than he could process and unable to be stopped. In its wake was a blank space of aching emptiness, right where he knew she should be. She was all he had left, the one thing that could connect him to the world he lived in, because without her, he had no purpose. He had no guidance. He was nothing.

So Link scoured the whole of the continent, from icy tundras to scorching deserts, climbing active volcanos and harnessing what the wild gave him, to grow stronger. He tamed the Divine Beasts and freed the shackled spirits of his long lost friends. He offered his company to the princess on the nights of the blood moon, where she would warn him and assure him that he was doing well, and that she was alright. He sought out the legendary Sword that Seals the Darkness and underwent trials upon backbreaking, painstaking trials to prove himself worthy of the full power the Master Sword was capable of. 

And then, he hesitated. He hesitated because he could not recall what Calamity Ganon looked like, or was capable of. Freeing the Divine Beasts became something horribly tedious, something that stoked a new sort of trauma in him, because the Scourges were certainly not for the faint of heart. The first time the malice surged past him and combined to form a twisted amalgamation of a beast, Link thought he was going to die again, with no hope for recovery this time. Every blight was grotesque, dripping with the glowing incarnation of hatred, and over twice his size. Their sickly skin stung to touch, leaving angry red burns everywhere it could. Their weapons were brutal and chaotically, skillfully wielded, and it was by miracle alone that he’d survived this long. There was nothing quite as agonizing as being shred alive by an ancient demon, only for his fire-filled nerves and ragged skin to stubbornly patch itself back together before his very eyes. Mipha’s Grace should not have been used so kindly on him.

For as much trouble and agony the Scourges were, they were only extensions of Calamity Ganon, small pieces of the monstrosity awaiting him deep within Hyrule Castle. Just thinking about it rendered him on the brink of a panic attack. Princess Zelda had faced it utterly alone for decades, so what if he failed to do the same? What if he could not defeat the beast, and would therefore be responsible for yet another destructive wave? All of the friends he had made, all of the new life that’d bloomed, it would be devastated by his hands if he could not slay the Calamity. What of Princess Zelda, then? Surely it would kill her, too. Picturing her expressive green eyes dulled by the kiss of death made Link feel so nauseated that he could not eat for hours. 

Shamefully and pathetically, he put it off. He searched for that hundredth Korok Seed, he filled the Hyrule Compendium, he ran every single errand and helped every single person that he could, all the while wishing that the darkness of night or comfort of walls could hide him from Zelda’s ever watchful gaze. It did nothing to quiet the screaming in his skull, the longing in his chest. It was only when his guilt had him by the neck that he swallowed his nerves and stormed Hyrule Castle before the courage could leave him.

Every room was empty. Sad, decrepit, and empty. Of course, the Calamity would want the biggest stage it could find and so, to the top floor of the castle he climbed. The guardians were pesky and the monsters relentless, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the beast, free of its prison, towering over him like it was starving and ready to feast.

He thought he saw a glimpse of golden hair, precious and fleeting, just outside of his peripheral vision, but the Calamity lunged for his neck and Link was forced to throw himself to the side, searching for any opportunity to counter the attack. For a monstrosity of a size that rivaled the Divine Beasts, it was quick. 

A jump at the wrong time, a split second too late, caused the Calamity’s ancient axe to slice through his skin. It was nothing more than a nick, but it stung enough to make him stumble and gasp, clutching at his arm through his rapidly soaking shirt. In the pause it took for him to steady himself, Ganon had crawled up onto the second floor like some ginormous spider. It looked ready to pounce on him and, Hylia above, there was nowhere he could hide. It would crush him easily. 

But it did not crush him. He wished it had, because it aimed the rapid red dot of a guardian’s laser on his chest, sending a spiral of panic through his spine and into his stomach, where it curled and lurched and made him want to vomit. He raised his shield, but the blast sent him spiraling through the air until his back hit a solid beam, knocking the wind right out of him. The Master Sword was sprawled uselessly out of his grip and he reached blindly for it, but his supporting arm slipped out from underneath him and his head hit the ground with a sickening crack. His vision was blurred. He wondered why he could see something walking towards him, something far smaller than the Calamity. It was Hylia, perhaps, coming to resolve his hideous fate at last. He tried to summon Mipha’s Grace, tried to will the strength back into his body, to will the excruciating pain away, but then Hylia was crouched before him, and her fingers felt so lovely and comforting in his hair that he wanted to fall headlong into her touch. He wanted to let her take him away.

“That’s it,” she cooed softly, brushing the bangs from his forehead. The motion was so jarringly familiar, the voice was haunting—this was not Hylia. “My dear Hero, look what they’ve done to you.”

Link choked on his attempt to speak, trying with everything in him to move, to take her hand, to see her clearly, but her hands pushed him gently back to the Sanctum floor and he groaned, his voice strained with pain. 

“It’s alright, Link,” the figure assured him, threading her fingers through his hair again like she was trying to subdue him. “The pain will fade soon, I promise. Can you do something for me?”

Death must’ve been approaching. He tried to nod, to tell her he would do anything for her, but the heavy ache in his head made it hard to do much of anything. She must’ve gotten his answer somehow, though, because her hands were cupping his face.

“You have to let go,” she whispered, her thumbs brushing against his cheeks. “Let go, Link, and I will catch you.”

She sounded so sweet, so incredibly lovely, and she felt so warm. Link felt his body relax, going completely still beneath her hands, and he wondered, vaguely, if they had all been wrong. If she was not sealed, but dead, ever waiting for her knight to join her so that she may be the one to welcome him into the afterlife. Princess Zelda’s green eyes came into clarity for no longer than a second, but comfort washed over him and he was quite happy that, for a second time, she was the last thing he was going to see.

There was a high pitched ringing in his ears and his head was swimming. Link tried to fight the grogginess that kept his eyes from opening, but he had very little success when the light was painful and his head was pounding. He raised a hand to rub his eyes, but the rough and tattered surface of what must’ve been a rope rubbed against his wrists, leaving them stinging with a brush burn he already knew would scar. That was his first indication that this was not his only time fighting his way back to consciousness. The pain brought him a little more clarity, even with the panic welling up in his chest.

He could see the Sanctum floor below his head, but trying to turn it to get a better look at his surroundings made him wince and squeeze his eyes shut again. He took a shaky, shuddering breath and, in one quick motion, tried to force himself to sit up. All he’d managed to do was make himself dizzy. His vision swam again, leaving him vulnerable and impaired, and he could do nothing but lie there as still as possible, waiting for the feeling to leave. When it did, it took the ringing in his ears with it.

He heard soft humming instead, backed by the horrid squelching of malice and a rumbling that chilled him to his core. Link tried slowly to tilt his head and immediately wished he hadn’t, because Calamity Ganon was among the last of things he needed to see right now. The beast was sitting, if one could even call it that, on the floor just below a balcony, right across the room from him. It seemed content to just sit there, watching him through orange, evil eyes. He tugged on the restraints again, sending another spike of pain down his spine, but he was stuck. Should it pounce, he would be done for.

But it didn’t. It sat there, staring him down. He thought he could make out a smile, cruel and unsettling and awful. It unhinged its jaw then and made a noise, a screech of unimaginable volume, and Link curled in on himself with a quiet whimper.

“I was just beginning to wonder when our guest would come out of his slumber.”

His eyes opened, wide and wild, and he tilted his head up towards where he thought the voice had come. There, sitting on a throne in the deck above the Calamity, sat Princess Zelda. It was the first time he’d seen her clearly in over a century. He could not breathe then, choked by his swell of emotions and the scratchiness of his throat. 

“Then again,” she continued, tilting her head with a cruelly beautiful smile, “our little hero is prone to sleeping in. Do be gentle with him, Ganon, and try to keep your patience.”

Those words meant nothing to him, but the Calamity turned its ugly head back towards Link and growled. Zelda clicked her tongue, beckoning the beast into silence, and it struck a horror into Link so deep that he felt the ache in every joint of his body.

Calamity Ganon was obeying her.

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masterlist | whumptober by day | whumptober by collection | original post

#whumptober2021 #no.1 #bound #you have to let go #legend of zelda #fic #survivor's guilt #trauma #gore #injury #burn #blood #head injury #nausea #acceptance of death #loss of consciousness #manipulation #corrupt!zelda #zelink #i feel like i have too many tags #can never be too safe i guess #idk im new to this #botw #that too

[zackcrazyvalentine]

Im always imagine how chenya Will be as a yandere Now im can know chenya x reader hc im really want tô know please

Hope you don’t mind them being in 2nd person POV (using you/yours)

Let’s get going!

Needless to say...   tw // yandere

-- -- --

SUMMARY

A very “normal” yandere, you may even pass your whole life not knowing it was all his doing

The most you may notice is a bracelet, ring or accessory of yours hanging from his person (and even then, he will say he just found it lost somewhere)

He acts so endearing and affectionate, you WILL end up falling for him

Doesn’t get violent easily, that isn’t his way to do things. He would rather work hard to isolate you, make your friends and family leave you alone, rather than get his hands dirty with blood

But in case a persistent soul wants to warn you about things... well, exceptions can always be made

That invisibility of his comes in very handy

Definitely one to plant the idea in your mind to move with him to a very remote part of town, almost so it feels like it was you who came up with the proposal

Ah, but that obsessive beast comes out when the slightest protest to his love comes out your mouth

Utter a single word about leaving him and you’re done for

Goodbye to that freedom of yours for the rest of your life

~°~  ~°~

Within the first meeting, Che’nya is just himself, his very fun and riddle/pun-speaking self

An encounter that was an accidental, but remained in the RSA student’s mind for a long time

He wants to see you a 2nd time, there’s just something alluring about you and your whole persona

Little random meetings like this become something common, having one each week

You don’t notice it, but small and fairly insignificant things of yours start disappearing. A forgotten chapstick, hair ties or accessories, maybe a bracelet or ring, a pair of worn out gloves, the one lone sock you could never found the pair of

Che’nya’s obsession and fascination with you breaches normality when he outright neglects his own studies and sleep to sneak into your room and analyze every little thing you own

He himself is surprised by this turn of events. He thought this thing he felt for you was only a crush, something that would eventually banish or turn into a friendship, but this…

He’s sneaking into your room, while you sleep, for goodness sake! Invading your privacy in such a disturbing way! All so he can be surrounded by your scent and presence

I’m sure he’d be: “This is sick...but I don’t wish to stop anytime soon…”

Of course it escalates. He’ll begin to lay down next to you in bed, relishing your warmth. You bet there’s kissing going on while you’re sleeping, but never on your lips. He wants you awake and willing to give him that

The cat may even outright steal a blanket or jacket that you use frequently just to have something of yours, a part of you, in his possession

More than eliminating his “competition”, Alchemi uses his ability to turn invisible to collect dirt on them and threaten with blackmail if they don’t leave you alone ASAP

Seriously, the invisibility helps a lot in not getting caught, no one suspects it’s him bc… c’mon it’s Che’nya! He’s just a silly catboy that bothers no one!

His goal is to isolate you, having only him to run to for comfort and validation

Slowly, any friends you had will run at the sight of you

But the one that remains is Che’nya, the mysterious catboy

It could not have gone better~! You’re right in his arms, lamenting how you’re all alone now, soaking up every single show of affection coming from him

“But you’re not alone, nya~! You’ve got your beloved Che’nya here with you!”

You find out what he did? Overheard your friends talking about the strange things that led them to leave you behind?

Someone is gonna get a gruesome lesson taught to them

And you… well, you’re already dependent on him for all your emotional needs, surely you don’t believe the words spouted by those traitors that left you in your loneliness

Will do his sweettalk to get himself back on your good side. He’s got you right on his palm to manipulate, after all

Oh, what’s that? You want him to go away ‘cus he’s a creep?

Well, good thing your friends and family no longer interact with you~ Say hello to the remote, isolated, abandoned room Che’nya has found for you to live in from now on!

“Be a good kitten and refrain from screaming, yes~?” That big, toothy grin held lunatic fantasies within, “Wouldn’t like the cat to steal your tongue, would mew?” Alchemi laughed, “I certainly would miss your kisses, so do be a good one meow. Promise a reward will await you at the end of the day~!”

What did you get yourself into?

-- -- --

In this Twisted Wonderland, there’s no wholehearted virtue

There will always be darkness lurking within people’s hearts

Thank you for the request!! this was my first time delving into writing more fleshed out yandere stuff!

Strangely, Che’nya wouldn’t surprise me much to turn out yandere 🤔

I mean, with all the Alice in Wonderland madness that goes on with him, it wouldn’t be much of a plot twist, I suppose

Hope it was to your liking~! (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ𓇼

#March 2021 special #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland yandere #tw // yandere #che'nya #rsa #royal sword academy #yandere che'nya #che'nya x reader #zack writes #getting shrouded

[m-aster-of-spinjitzu]

golden power; never wielded

my first work for @ninjago-angst-week! prompt - abandoned (16/08) Lloyd's never known what it's like to share his heart with another, linking two lives together as if one had found the melody to their chorus, now a song in perfect harmony. If he’d always felt like he was invisible; wondered if there was something fundamentally wrong with his inability to touch others’ hearts, then, well, that was no one’s business but his own. Of course, that was before he quite literally fell for someone - the first person, actually - who seemed to care. Of course she was too good to be true. Or, the S8 angst I've been wanting to write about 'game of masks' and the aftermath. trigger warnings - suicidal thoughts, brief mention of implied self-harm, not really a warning but it talks a lot about loneliness. "How did you know?"

"It's an Oni Temple. It's safe to assume that only an Oni could take it."

"No. How could you know that I was part Oni?"

How could you know that I was part Oni?

The question repeated itself in his mind, echoing into the blizzard.

Sometimes, he wondered what would've gone down at the temple if he hadn't been so observant.

Well, he thought bitterly, probably not the temple itself.

The walls collapsing, he'd caught a glimpse of his terrified face as the room filled with swirling inky blackness, freezing him to the bone.

But the real pain came from her words.

Ah. Your emotions. You can't get rid of them, can you?

No, he'd wanted to yell, staring listlessly at the shaking grey semblance of sky.

He'd always felt like he wielded the element of light; invisible, trapped behind a barrier that no one cared enough to break. Isolated; locked away from the world. Longing for - yearning for - a single soul to want to know his heart. Pain that almost felt tangible, bleeding into every motion, every day.

Everyone else seemed to find it so easy - so effortless - simple as breathing, taken for granted like it was ingrained into their bones. Everyone else seemed to have given away a little piece of their heart - to their parents, friends, or lovers.

The fact that his was, and had always been, entirely whole?

He was either cursed, the venom from the Great Devourer passed down to him, or there was something fundamentally unlikable coursing through his veins.

By this point, he assumed it was the latter.

Maybe, if anyone had ever cared - wanted to know him - he'd never have felt like it was pressing down on his chest like a casket; a useless block of ice that no one wanted, not even the unfortunate owner it'd been given.

If no one would know his heart, he'd thought, grabbing a forgotten map, he'd strike fear into theirs - until they knew what it was like to sob into invisible barriers, to gaze upon the world with a weary eyes and a heart heavy with the knowledge that if they vanished, no one would even notice.

He'd realized far too late that he had unleashed an evil that couldn't be controlled - or one that could only be controlled by his- by someone else that had sunk beneath the darkness until no light remained-

He'd escaped from the crumbling casket, energy and eyes blazing - only to find that Har- she'd already escaped with the mask.

The Oni Mask of Hatred.

As they had steered the boat through the river, her sweet smile hiding lie upon lie, he'd thought it was somewhat ironic - two lovers, seeking a literal manifestation of hatred.

He'd laughed bitterly; no mirth in the sound.

After his first crush had - well, literally tried to crush him, he didn't think that this day could get much worse.

Until she dropped him into a contraption that was the stuff of nightmares - leaving the others with a seemingly impossible choice.

He'd wanted to yell, scream, that they should save his mother - he'd hurt enough people over the course of his short life, as evidenced by the grief-stricken orphan yelling a foreign language right in front of him.

I'm the expendable one! Maybe she was right - it was my fault the Serpentine were able to release the Great Devourer. And it took thousands of lives - but never the life of the one who was to blame.

He'd grabbed the vengestone bars, the faint sense of numbness they brought a welcoming relief from the storm of emotions that- he honestly had no clue what to do with.

i could drown, he had thought briefly, fleetingly. what if i drowned and i never hurt anyone again-

you have  a responsibility, even though you've pretty much failed to uphold it so far

"Clotho venge! Clotho decer! Clotho haeed!"

Shoving the thought to the back of his mind, he'd gripped the bars tighter, ignoring the sting of the metal against skin.

If anything, he'd welcomed the sting.

Any pain was better than the agonizing reminder that his heart was, and had always been, entirely whole.

He didn't even realize he was trembling until he heard his father's voice echoing from the vortex.

His father hadn't asked to be bitten by an evil snake, the venom coursing through his veins for years upon years. He hadn't asked to be dumped at a boarding school for bad kids, spending what he had left of his childhood hiding in empty classrooms or yelling empty threats as his classmates snickered.

Against all odds, they'd been reunited. Evil snakes, Fangblades, even Jade Blades - none of it had stood between them.

Just when he thought they might have a future - he might have a- a family - the Cursed Realm decided to curse them all.

His father with imprisonment, him with a life devoid of a father he'd loved, at the end.

Now H- she wanted to resurrect him?

His father had been so much more than the Oni blood in his veins. So was he.

But if he was completely Oni-

Lloyd didn't like their odds. He kind of hated them.

"Clotho venge! Clotho decer! Clotho haeed!"

---

A few chaotic hours later... they'd won? They'd won.

The Sons of Garmadon (he'd always thought the name was kind of ironic - he, the only son of Garmadon, wasn't in their crazy biker gang) had been imprisoned by courageous, if a bit overzealous, taser-wielding policeman.

Ninjago was celebrating - everyone was; he should be, too.

Should he really revel in their victory, though? It was his fault that she'd been able to snatch the last mask, all the safeguards the Oni had put in place practically worthless because of his stupid feelings-

H- Harumi had been thrown in one of the police vans.

"You're right - this isn't me," she'd started, her meekness almost convincing him that she really was the girl he'd fallen for - the girl who'd been forced into a mask she never wanted to wear, but someone who still cared about the world... and- and about him.

"Stop."

He'd cut her off, the venom in his tone surprising both of them.

"Save it for someone who cares," he'd forced out, the hurt welling up his chest almost as painful as their unceremonious descent into the jungle, (the descent she'd orchestrated, he'd thought fleetingly, squeezing his eyes together) unable to believe that this- this liar was the same sweet girl he'd fallen for.

With that, he slammed the door of the van, locking her in - wishing that locking his memories away could be easy.

She'd never cared about him; simply needing to use him as if he was nothing more than the power he wielded.

He watched one of the policemen drive her away, the tired-but-enthusiastic cheers of his teammates nothing more than background noise; static.

Vaguely, he realized that his heart wasn't quite whole - he'd given a piece of it to someone whom he had thought would link theirs together in harmony, the melody to his chorus; what he'd been searching for ever since he'd woken up screaming in a 'boarding school' that seemed more like a prison.

She'd taken more than what he'd given - draining the light from his entire being as if she was the Overlord, stealing his golden power without a shred of remorse.

That failure was practically painless, compared to her-

An almost unfamiliar emotion slowly stated to replace the ache in his chest that he'd grown used to for all those years; it'd become comforting, even. Watching the world go by with a heart that seemed more like a curse, he briefly, fleetingly, wondered if he'd be better off without one.

If there was ever a problem that presented itself to Nya while she worked on the Bounty, she used to joke that it'd be easier to just dump their entire hard dive into the sea.

Destruction seemed to be easier than fixing, he conceded - the van now just a glimmer of bright light; one of the many that made up their vibrant city.

"How did you know?" he heard, yet again wondering how he felt so disconnected from his own role in the memory.

How had she known? 

The whisper of a voice long gone bled into his consciousness, his hands shaking at his sides even as the city celebrated.

Why had he even asked that?

Plastering a smile on his face as he walked over to his teammates, the question repeating itself in his mind, echoing into the blizzard.

FSM - she didn't need to be leader of a biker gang to know that.

Who could ever give their heart - the epitome of human connection; golden power all on its own, albeit of a different kind - to an Oni?

Maybe he wasn't the one trapped behind an invisible wall, built on tears and loneliness and yearning and heartache and a lone question - why? Why could no one seem to look past the cage he felt himself trapped in, observing the world rather than playing a part in it.

He hadn't been a- abandoned by everyone, he realized, a weary sense of clarity and shadowed eyes not sure to accept it or push it into the back of his mind like the hours he'd spent there, as if he'd ever want to have hurt his teammates like he did, the twisted ghost-

He trailed behind his teammates as they sang - horribly off key, his mind pointed out, forcing a small smile onto his face - lost in the figurative blizzard, despite the fact that the sun's rays had only vanished a few hours ago.

If no one would know his heart?

FSM - could he really blame them?

(if you read this far, thank you so much, you’ve made my day:D)

#lloyd garmadon #ninjago angst week #harumi #sons of garmadon #ninjago fic #ninjago #lloyd

[merctrovert]

solivagant | xiaoven shorts

genre: fanfiction, short story, angst, hurt/comfort, xiaoven, this was even sad for me to write so enjoy reading...

— solivagant

     (adj) wandering alone 

The Lone Yaksha

A blood stained figure limped across the ruins of a battlefield, the scent of copper still lingering thick. It followed him wherever he went, like a ghost. His weapon dragged on behind him, like a chain he could not break.

Wounded but not hurt enough to stop, he continued down his aimless, wandering path, searching for something; he did not know what.

Silently. Even the crows that feasted on the fallen were not startled by him. He walked as if he were a ghost, he may as well have just been a corpse.

What was his name? Where was he going? He no longer knew. There was an idea of someplace a long time ago. Now, his mind was empty, only consumed by his demons.

His hands had become clotted and thick, coated with layers of crimson. Scars littered his body; not once did he tend to the wounds. Once, he considered it a waste since he would only gain some more the next day. But now, each speck on his skin was like a mark that counted how many he had slain. Another chain that tied him down.

And so his solemn journey continued. Never speaking, never stepping off his path. Through every storm and heatwave, as his skin was scorched, as his demons corrupted his mind when dusk came. He did not falter.

Until that one night.

The moon was red, as crimson as the blood he had spilt. And his demons were rising from the ground, lost souls, wandering ghouls. And they set their eyes on the one that had destroyed them. And they tormented.

Don't you want to be free? They cruelly whispered into his ears. Don't you want to stop? Give up, oh great Yaksha. Oh, conqueror of demons, yet you are the greatest demon of us all. There is no place to return to. No place no more.

And they cried and moaned into his ears, No one is waiting. No one is waiting for you. They are all gone.

They were all gone.

The great Yaksha, the Conqueror and Purger of Demons stumbled. His feet, sore and bleeding, bruised and calloused trembled. He fisted his hand and forced himself to continue, but the demons that tormented his mind were not wrong.

They were not wrong.

How tired he was. How free he wished to be. And how no one would be waiting for him, which was why he never looked back and how no one would be waiting for him as he continued on ahead.

This was his punishment and he accepted it. But oh how it hurt.

Lost in his thoughts, the figure stilled and his demons laughed and whispered, tempted his ear with promises of sweet things.

We have always been waiting for you. We are all you have. Come with us. You will never be alone. You will suffer no more.

It was lies. He grunted, gritting his teeth, his head throbbing with the memories of a thousand ghouls that surrounded him as they forced their own cruel deaths, projecting it into his mind. It was lies they spoke but he wanted to believe.

Come with us, O Vigilant Yaksha. There is a place. We are waiting.

And he closed his eyes. His heart, wavering, his mind throbbing and burning. He succumbed.

The dark consumed him and the souls of lifeless demons hungrily swarmed into his body, fighting with each other for possession, to take a bite out of the heart and soul of the one that had slain them.

And he who had forgotten his name, who had been wandering too far for too long, sat emptily, staring up at a starless sky as his demons corrupted him.

Freedom. He closed his eyes. Perhaps suffering the wrath of demons would show him, just a glimpse, of that mercy he could never have.

From afar, a gentle breeze washed over the torn land. And with the wind was carried the faint, broken fragments of the melody of a distant flute.

The distant melody the corrupting yaksha found himself opening his eyes to, his heart swaying with its sorrowful, lonely hums. The demons of his mind and soul were washed away with each note and suddenly, it was all that consumed him.

The haunting gentle melody he was so afraid to startle, as though it were a butterfly resting in his palm.

Rising slowly, the lone yaksha turned, off his path. And headed towards the direction of the melody, following the moon that had returned to its pearl like appearance. And with every step he took, the darkness that festered away at his heart dissipated upon hearing each note ring clearer, until finally, he stood behind a figure resting high up on a lonely rock, overlooking the vast and endless web of rivers.

He stood himself, on a similar jagged form, with the reflections of the moon on water separating him from the one that created the melody.

How long had he been walking, senseless, that he had forgotten what it was to feel?

The music he heard, breaking the silence of the night and the loudness of his mind like a water drop, made him fall to his knees, his weapon clattering onto the rocks.

For the first time, in the Yaksha's mind, it was quiet.

And the melody soothed over him, a gentle caress. It waited, it coaxed until he let go.

Something dropped into the water below, sending ripples stretching across the entire surface of the water and he saw his own contorted reflection.

A single tear.

That was what it was. It was all he could manage, all he could let go of. Centuries, decades, years of torment and suffering he had endured that escaped him in the form of a single tear.

"Xiao." A word breathed like wind, so light, he could have swore it did not happen at all had it not been for the figure that stood on air in front of him now.

Xiao. A word. No, not any word. His name.

He looked up, as broken and as lost, staring into the glowing eyes of the young figure in front of him.

His hand was outstretched, empty, waiting to be held.

But where would you take me, Xiao wanted to ask.

But at that moment none of it mattered. At that moment, he was not a demon or a Yaksha, not a being that was fighting an invisible war waging within with himself, at the corruption that tore at his heart with every life he slayed.

He was just Xiao. A wandering boy, who knew nothing of a home and what it meant, who had never tasted freedom or smiled upon such.

But as took the hand that was stretched in front of him, the angel that had saved him smiled for he would teach him all those things.

Barbatos, the Free yet Lonely God

There was freedom in being alone. But there was also loneliness that came with being free.

Barbatos knew that the most.

Once he had loved and cherished and once he was much more of a boy than he was. When arrows fell from the sky, like cruel shooting stars that pierced his closest friend's chest... that was Barbatos's first experience with loneliness.

Never before had he had to face such an empty, quiet feeling.

And so he picked up a flute and a lyre who's strings strummed only for him, to fill the strange void he still did not understand, within his heart.

And with a joyous smile, he would be as fleeting as the wind. Why? 

For the God was afraid. Afraid that if he lingered for a second too long, glanced around a moment too much, he would feel the same waves of sorrow that crushed his heart just as they did when he held the body of the boy he no longer had.

And so, Barbatos's second lesson was to grieve before they had even gone. That way, it would not hurt as much when they did.

Each night of the passing of his dear friend, for centuries, would the god rest himself on a small, lone island of stone that jutted from the rivers and he would play the melody that came from his heart, to speak the things he could not say.

A hauntingly sorrowful, yet delicate and light song that was carried away with the wind. Barbatos only hoped his friend, wherever he was now, would hear it.

The night the moon turned vermillion, Barbatos sat on the edge of the rock, legs dangling below. And with routine, lifted his flute worn with time to his lips, closed his eyes and began playing. This night, unlike others, was particularly sorrowful.

His body was never his, but a walking memory and a constant reminder that even though he was a god, the dead could not come back to life.

Each tremor his heart shook with, he played another note. The melody was tentative, hesitant, as if the creator was afraid to reveal too much in case it all came flooding out.

And even though he was the god of freedom, he felt constrained by his own heart.

There was an empty thud from behind him and his eyes opened gently, the stars beginning to appear in the sky, scattered across. So many, yet they were all so far away and alone.

Barbados turned, silent and cast his eyes upon the shadowed figure that had fallen to his knees, the water below him rippling.

Blood marred his arms and clothes, a body that had seen too much, been through more than it should have been.

Are you alone too?

He wanted to ask, but it would have been too cruel of a question.

Of course he was. Not a light stayed by his side and even the night sky above where he sat, was starless.

"Xiao." That was his name. The Rex Lapis had told him once; conqueror of demons, the last and final Yaksha. He looked so alone. Barbatos’s heart throbbed and in the bloodied figure in front of him, saw himself. 

Gently, Barbatos outstretched his hand, watching as the yaksha looked up, eyes widening.

His face was strewn with blood, his hair tinted with crimson.

He stared at the hand, lost and afraid.

Remember, Barbatos's own heart chimed, Grieve. Remember, it chimed, the loneliness.

But when the trembling, blood stained hand slipped into his smooth, pale ones, his heart fell quiet, like the waters and the stars that witnessed their meeting; their beginning.

Where are we going? The question was evident in the troubled eyes of the kneeling figure in front of him and the god smiled, holding the hand tighter, bringing him closer.

Home. He replied. Home together.

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

authors notes: now cry >:) I hope you enjoyed reading just as much as I enjoyed writing it. my heart also hurts. 

art credits: u/Nyxogan on reddit, tysm 

thank you for reading <3

#venti #xiao #xiaoven #xiaoven fanfiction #genshin impact #genshin xiao #genshin #genshin venti #genshin xiaoven #genshin xiao fanfiction #genshin venti fanfiction #genshin xiaoven fanfiction #xiaoven fanfic #xiao fanfic #venti fanfic #xiao fanfiction #venti fanfiction #angst #i am sad #woe is i #i am so sad writing this #short story #genshin short story #xiao genshin impact #venti genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin fanfiction

[stellocchia]

Anyone remembers my Platonic Soulmates AU?

Well, I decided I wanted to write something in it for Wilbur as well because he's just perfect for angst... (also it's technically the second part of This One, but you don't need to read it for this one)

The Anchor

-

Wilbur had always been what his father liked to call “an artistic soul”. He learned how to play guitar and sing at a young age and he’d been very averse to violence ever since. His father was not one to voice his concern, but Wilbur knew that he had disappointed him when he called out his cruel practices in leading the Antarctic Empire. It was fine though because Wilbur didn’t need him.

He set out to adventure, a guitar on his back and a name proudly displayed on his wrist for everyone to see. He deserved to meet his soulmate and of that, he was certain like of nothing else.

Things don’t always go according to plan however and soon enough he found himself broke and raising the son of a fish he stared at longer than it was strictly appropriate. That was not ideal per se, but he knew he could manage somehow. He was the son of the Angel of Death, after all, giving up wasn’t in his blood.

The next couple of years had been hard, what with the low funds and Fundy growing faster than expected, which meant he needed new clothing more often and more food than other babies. Fundy also absolutely hated Wilbur’s cooking and he never held back from letting him know with shrill cries and incessant pouting. Wilbur wished someone would have told him how exhausting being a parent would be, no wonder Phil avoided it like the plague…

Something good did happen however when one day at a market he met a very young teen named Tommy. The boy successfully stole from him, but, upon seeing him break down when he realized he couldn’t afford a meal for him and his child, he came back with a mortified expression and an apology. Wilbur understood though. They were both leading a miserable life so, instead of calling the guards asthe teen expected, he invited him over for a meal.

It took Tommy one try of Wilbur’s culinary expertise before declaring him a lost cause and inviting himself over for supper as well so that he could make something decent. Wilbur didn’t comment on his inability to taste the food when asked how much better their dinner was, but Fundy was full of praise for the first time in his existence, the little shit…

It took a couple more encounters before Wilbur noticed the name on Tommy’s wrist and they were already brothers by then. It seemed perfect like it was meant to be. And, according to the Universe, it was.

Years passed and they got invited to a moderately new Server apparently owned by Dream, renowned all over the System for his hunting challenges.

The news was the best thing that happened to Wilbur in a while. The desire to prove himself had been buzzing under his skin since forever, almost turning into an unbearable scorching fire in recent times. And that was his opportunity to upheld his father’s legacy, he would not let it go to waste.

Tommy was the first to join, though Wilbur was very reluctant to let him go alone. He was still so young and reckless and so painfully kind. Wilbur’s heart ached knowing him alone where couldn’t be easily reached, but he had to deal with the legal procedures regarding the Server transferal, so he’d have to suck it up this time.

Still, his brother and son were there waiting for him when he joined. Tommy had made friends with another teen and, somehow, had a war with the Server’s Admin. Nothing less than what Wilbur expected.

It was fine though, they were finally getting their life in order.

The first thing Wilbur tried was to get a monopoly on potions, which lead to the impromptu formation of a police force, which then lead to the formation of a country and war.

Before he knew it he was one life down, holding his little brother while his second life bled out of him, choking on his tears while the jubilant screams of his enemies resounded behind him.

It had taken no time for him to lose so much, and Tommy coming back from a meeting with the Admin saying how he’d won them independence was not enough to bring back his sense of safety and control. He was lost. It dawned on him then that he had no idea of what he was doing, only moving forward because he had to. It gave him such a sense of dread that he’d often end up crying alone in his office, the comfort of his soulmate feeling too far with a door between them, yet not far enough to hide his shame.

In a desperate attempt of reigning his life back in he proposed an election. It should have been an easy way to consolidate his power and possibly to give him some peace of mind. He’d planned it perfectly, so of course, nothing could go wrong. Turns out he was mistaken.

His second death was from an arrow piercing his heart while he screamed for Tommy, who was already on his last life, to run for his life. In retrospect, he should have expected things to go wrong as that’s what usually happens.

From then his life just turned into a never-ending spiral. There was no one he could trust, no one who hadn’t betrayed him, aside from his soulmate. And, even then, where he once found comfort in it, Tommy’s presence now felt blinding. Like staring directly at the sun after days spent in a cave. Oh, Tommy was as tainted as him, he knew that much, but the boy was so stubborn in his pathetic desire for peace. He refused to understand how that wasn’t an option anymore. L’Manburg, the country they founded and fought for, was now nothing but a corrupted husk of its former self. It was far beyond saving, destruction being the only remaining option. But Tommy refused to understand and, after a while, Wilbur stopped trying to make him. He’d come around to it eventually…

And then came the grand day, his final act! The stage was set and everything was perfect down to the most minuscule of details. Even Philza showed up for the heartbreaking reunion of the century, where he could pretend he’d been a father to Wilbur while stabbing him through the heart. It was perfect and wonderful and he could finally have peace.

Only death was not what he imagined. It wasn’t nothingness and it wasn’t peaceful. Instead, he was trapped at a station, trains passing but never stopping, and lost souls of those who came before him roaming the platform, unresponsive shadows of their former selves.

And it was such a cruel trick, wasn’t it? Showing him what he was to become while letting him keep the mind of who he was. Of course, he did his best not to succumb to the numbness and fade in that state of non-existence, but he was about to give up when Schlatt fell into an eternal slumber. But then something happened, something wonderful, the veil of death retracted for just a moment and he saw his little brother finally succeeding in defeating Dream once and for all. They talked like they hadn’t in a long time and with the reunion came the constant dull pain of a broken bond interrupted too soon.

It was grounding in a way. There weren’t many sensations in Limbo and of course the one breaking him away from his crushing loneliness would be Tommy once more. His one constant. His one anchor to retain himself.

An even better event was when Tommy himself joined him in Limbo. Wilbur couldn’t be more ecstatic! He mostly ignored his brother’s newfound constant fidgeting and shakey breaths he would take from time to time. They weren’t important, what was important was that Wilbur wasn’t alone and his bond stopped hurting. They were together now and nothing could change that! Well… he thought so, until one day a hand appeared grabbing Tommy’s neck and dragging him away, towards the tracks. Wilbur screamed and tried to take a hold of Tommy’s hand, but it was too late and the boy disappeared with the passing of another train.

After that Wilbur almost faded. He almost gave in. Why holding so desperately onto his mind when he was condemned to an eternity of loneliness? His soulmate too far out of reach once more… this time perhaps forever.

But eventually, a train stopped at his station, with Dream as the conductor. Dream, his hero! Taking him away from that nightmare and gifting him life once more!

He’d been grateful at the time. Truly grateful. Even after receiving Ghostbur’s obviously incomplete memories and having seen some of what the Admin had done to Tommy he still was grateful. And then he noticed something on Tommy’s wrist, a scratched-out name that appeared to have once been carved into the skin, and suddenly the desire to rip Dream apart with his bare hands reappeared stronger than ever.

He’d have to wait of course. Gain allies first, strengthen his bond once more, and play his cards right. He’d have to get the Admin to let his guard down with him and then… well then he would find out what happened when you tried taking Wilbur’s lifeline away from him...

#dream smp au #platonic soulmates au #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #crime boys #my writing/fanfic thingy? #tw suicide #tw unhealthy relationship #wilbur is a bit possessive #but that mostly stems from loneliness in this case

[icycoolslushie]

I'm Not the Same Person You Left - Benmars One-shot

Not Sad | Sad | Sadder | Saddest

TW/CW: Romeo and Juliette, blood, gore, violence, suicide, basically everything that happens in These Violent Delights

Hope is a feather. It sticks on for some time, but eventually it falls.

Alisa looked at the door again and again, as if hoping Marshall would suddenly walk through. It wasn’t fair she was alive when he wasn’t.

Benedikt Montagov screamed raw in his sleep.

No one came. They were used to this by now.

But Roma hesitated outside of his cousin’s door. It was his fault Marshall was dead.

The thought hit him like the bullet had hit Marshall. Only he didn’t die; he got to live with betrayal and the knowledge that it was his fault everything had gone to pieces.

Why, oh why, had he ever trusted Juliette? he asked himself again and again, though he knew why: he had hope.

Now that hope was crushed just like the thought of never seeing Marshall again.

“Mars! Marshall. MARSHALL SEO.”

Benedikt had said Marshall’s name in every variation, language, and tone he knew. He had pleaded with anyone (whether they were above or below) to get Marshall back. He had done everything except kill himself to see Marshall. But it was killing him anyway.

All he wanted was one last hug. One last laugh. One last smile.

“Mars,” he whispered softly, one last time, a boy that knew nothing would ever be right again but still had a sliver of hope left, before he buried his face into his pillow and sobbed out whatever liquid was still left in him.

The damn loneliness was killing Marshall Seo as much as Tyler Cai’s bullet had been.

He wanted to make sure poor little Alisa was safe, Roma was okay, but most of all he wanted to see Benedikt.

Ben, the other part of his heart, the twin of his soul, the yin to his yang, the yang to his yin. Ben. The person he loved most.

It was his fault, he supposed, for getting so entangled with a person who loved someone from the enemy’s side. But was it his fault he had become attached to a person? His fault he had eventually started loving his best friend? Was it his damn fault that he lived in a city divided by a blood feud?

Even if it wasn’t, it was still his life. And there was nothing he could do but wait till Juliette could do something about her cousin so he could finally get out of this safehouse and into Ben’s arms.

Then it occurred to him: he could do something. How had he not realized? Maybe the desperation was driving him mad, that he actually considered the craziest idea he had ever had.

Damn doing a favour for Juliette Cai. He needed to see Benedikt. Let Benedikt know he was alive. He could sneak out of here, his face hidden in his hoodie, buy (or steal) a wig from the roadside sellers, get a mask of some sort, and sneak into the White Flowers territory.

Yes, that’s what he would do. The only thing that would keep him sane.

He took an empty water jug and smashed it against the windows, breaking the wood that had warded up the glass. He heard something smash below, and knew that the debris must have fallen. He ducked to make sure no one had seen him. After two minutes, when he figured that if anyone had seen the broken glass and chopped wood would have left, he lifted himself up and looked out the window—the first view of the city he had seen since almost two weeks. It looked . . . different. Less people. He supposed they were all being cautious, and at least no one would be able to see a random person climbing down a building.

Marshall messed up his hair, put his hood on, and took a deep breath before he put one leg out the window.

Grabbing the windowsill tightly, he put his other leg out the window as well.

He climbed down, slowly and steadily, years of practice guiding him. When the distance left was just half a meter, he jumped down.

He hid behind an empty cart, making sure no one had seen him, waiting out two minutes in which he re-adjusted his hood and started walking again.

Within ten minutes, he found the tailor shop he, Benedikt, and Roma used to go to get disguises. Usually they paid, but he had no money now, so he entered through the back and found a large purple overcoat, a russet wig, and a cat mask. He put them on, listening attentively in case someone came into the storage room, and left.

He walked for a bit, until he could tell he was in White Flower territory, and Ben’s place was just a block away.

He took to the wall to make sure no one could see him and sneakily made his way deeper into the buildings.

When he was able to see Ben’s window, he stopped. Did he really want to do this? Endanger Ben? Put Ben’s life into even more danger?

No.

No, he didn’t.

But his desire to see him was overwhelming and Marshall decided he could not live with the fact that he would’ve been able to see Ben but didn’t.

And no doubt Ben wanted to see him too.

He took off the overcoat, the wig, and the mask, letting his disguise slip away.

Marshall took a few steps forward away, and was able to touch the window. He knocked hesitantly, then paused. Then knocked again, properly this time.

He gasped.

Benedikt wasn’t sure whether he was dreaming again, had died, was looking at Marshall’s ghost, or was getting hallucinations.

And honestly, he didn’t care. He was getting to see Marshall again, and that was all that mattered.

Benedikt’s blonde hair was messed up, his face was flushed, his skin was way too pale, and he basically looked like a ghost. Someone who hadn’t eaten, slept, or even had proper hygiene. Marshall grimaced when he saw his best friend.

“I must have died and gone to heaven to receive such a present,” Benedikt said. “Or I must certainly be dreaming. Or is it your ghost? Haunting me? I know I should’ve saved you, but I couldn’t. So I’ll let you give me as much grief as you want as long as you’ll stay.”

“Benedikt, you’ve gone crazy,” Marshall remarked.

“Maybe it is the actual you. Only you could be so vexing.”

Marshall leaned back. What was wrong with Benedikt? Then he noticed a plate, full. Not a crumb had been eaten. Benedikt hadn’t eaten anything today, maybe not even drank. Suddenly he felt selfish for delaying this visit for so long. “Can I come in?” he asked, not bothering for the answer, already moving to de-attach the window lock.

Benedikt seemed to have resurrected, and he fiddled with the lock before Marshall, opening it, letting him in.

He looked behind and in all directions, making sure no one could see him, and crawled through the window.

Tripping at the last second, he toppled into Ben, who didn’t have much strength—after all, he had been eating less—and together they fell, Marshall half on top of Benedikt, half on top of the floor. He blushed, which wasn’t like him to do.

Before Benedikt had gathered his strength to sit up, Marshall did, and grabbed the plate with food on it. He helped Benedikt sit up, and slowly fed him small bites of an apple. As Ben had finished the apple, Marshall peeled an orange and fed him that.

Slowly, Benedikt regained his strength, his proper strength, as Marshall fed him a day’s worth of food. It seemed as if Benedikt had only been having only one or none meals a day.

Finally, when the plate was empty, Marshall moved his right index finger over Ben’s lips, wiping away bread crumbs. When he was done, Ben moaned.

“What?” Marshall asked, honestly surprised.

“I never knew—all these years, and God, I was dumb.”

“We’ve been over this. You are dumb.”

Benedikt laughed. “That—you making me laugh. I—” He shook his head. “Can I kiss your finger?”

“You’ll get your mouth dirty again.”

“Maybe I want that.”

Marshall sighed and stuck out his finger into Benedikt’s lap. Ben kissed it. Then Marshall ran his finger over Benedikt’s mouth again, wiping his face clean, taking care of him.

Benedikt had wished for one last hug, one last laugh, one last smile. Now we would make sure each one was memorable, plastered into his memory.

He would make sure he never lost Marshall again.

Marshall Seo the full moon outside, bringing hope and possibilities and new beginnings. He cherished the view and feelings like he cherished Benedikt.

It grows back, though.

Benedikt Montagov had lost a feather, but it had grown back.

He had hope again.

Taglist: @della-vacker-supremacy @themadhatter999 @writeforjordelia @theenchanteddreamer @shadowhuntingdemigod @reyna-herondale Lmk if you wanna be added or removed! (Also feel free to tag other people.) @safinssmontagov (Fantasy Appreciation Week)

#these characters belong to chloe gong not me tvd is absolutely wonderful please read it if you haven't #this is my coping mechanism waiting for ovd #tvd #these violent delights #our violent ends #benmars #benedikt montagov #marshall seo #benedikt x marshall #chloe gong #fanfic #ace writes #dividers by me! #yes i've started making dividers now #benmars my beloved #ask to tag #tw romeo and juliette #cw romeo and juliette #fantasyappreciationw21 #userrlucie #userfandomsnett

[curly-bangtan]

Heatwave Drabble #9: sweet night (M)

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

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

Four weeks. Not a word to each other.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The realisation haunts you every night.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ll be okay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lotta…”

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

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

This can’t be happening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And this weekend, you’re going to die.

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

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

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

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

“Y-Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. Wait, what the fuck.

You flip back to the front page.

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

Strawberry… Love…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reconcile.

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

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

Reconciliation doesn’t seem possible in the foreseeable future.

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

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

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

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

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

Do you want to talk it out?

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

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

One: The Hurting Each Other.

You fuck guys without learning their names.

Two: The Guilt-Tripping.

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

Three: The Falling Apart

I… I thought it was clear how I felt…

Always replaying in a loop.

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

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

It’s better this way.

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing but heavy breathing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ve arrived.” Jae winces.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are sharing a…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And there goes your chance of rectifying this weekend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You glance up, you can’t help it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, you have dirt on your face.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Completely unnecessary and petty move, whatever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Things’, meaning you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung regrets everything.

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

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

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

It can, and it did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are we just not going to speak?”

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

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

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

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

“I mean-”

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

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

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

“How exactly is it going to change anything?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

You stare at your own reflection in the mirror.

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

What resonates with you most is the word closure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No! You’ll be cold.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stop breathing.

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

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

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

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

“Yes…?”

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

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

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

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

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

You could say no, right? Just say no.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead, you nod, “Mmm, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung’s arm is around you. Still.

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

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

He stirs, pulls you in tighter.

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

Lethargy immediately expelled, your eyes open wide.

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

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

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

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

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

Your core dampens and you quickly turn back around.

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

But God, you fucking miss this.

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

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

So what now?

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

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

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

Fuck.

You can’t.

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

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

“You’re hard.”

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

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

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

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

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

You want to fuck. You want to fuck Taehy-

Stop that fucking thought.

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

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

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

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

Another pulse down there.

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

Happy Valentine’s Sunday indeed.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ve got flour on your face.”

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

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

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

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

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

Yes, something has definitely shifted since last night.

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

Kiss him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So… You’re down.”

“Down.”

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

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

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

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

End this once and for all with a bang.

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

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

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

Your breath feels shaky.

“So…”

“So…”

His throat is trembling too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you just lean down to kiss him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Baby.

That is your undoing.

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

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

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

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

“It’s ‘coz I haven’t…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then don’t.”

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

“Then don’t live without me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you. And I’m yours.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“F-Fine.”

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

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

Stiffening, Taehyung looks down. “Yes…”

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

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

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

“You up for it?” A smirk stretches.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah!” Taehyung yelps.

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

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

“You should be scared.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re so close, so close.

And you’re there.

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

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

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

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

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

“No?”

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

He paints a constellation of wet kisses all over you.

“How does that sound, baby?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feel nothing but love and devotion throughout.

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

Transcendental.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love you!

- Kristy

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27/04/20

© Copyright 2020

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