#its not a big deal I just like having something to stop me from endlessly posting into the night

[familyvideostevie]

steel drum weight of me

joel miller x fem!reader, 18+ mdni

summary: joel comes back from his wall shift with hands in need of some serious tlc. but why stop there? | 3.2k

warnings: fem!reader, fluff turned to smut, a tender blowjob, p in v sex, unprotected sex, riding, creampie

a/n: this could be in the same universe as come care about me and watching you with wonder but who knows. what matters is it's a post-part i jackson au and all is well. this is my first fic in a while and i hammered it out today so hopefully it's coherent. <3 series masterlist here.

__

Jackson looks its best in the winter.

You've always thought so with its endless skies gone white, blending in with the grey clouds carrying the constant threat of snow. The peaks you never tire of, such ethereal beauty in a world otherwise gone to shit, looming over town with a steadfastness that you can fool yourself into thinking means protection, means safety. In reality, they're just something nice to look at when you have a free moment.

It's also fucking cold.

But you can deal with that. You've spent more winters in the last twenty years than you'd like to remember mostly outside, freezing your ass off, fingers so numb you could barely pull the trigger. But when it counted, you did.

Winter now means a town full of children laughing and having snowball fights. It means big pots of stew and your pick of hats, scarves, and a good pair of boots. It means a warm house to go back to every night, a bed to crawl into, and a man you love to hold you.

Things could be worse.

You're home first today. Joel and Ellie are on the wall and have been since mid-morning. The light is already going, the sun dipping behind the Tetons, sky that winter mix of purple and pink that makes the breath catch in your throat no matter how many times you see it. There's a flu going around and taking people out for a few days at most but it means fewer bodies free for the wall and for patrol. You're pulling a double tomorrow and you're already looking forward to the hot bath you'll take after.

Today, though, you change from your work clothes to something softer, a sweater that travels between your drawer and Joel's, thick socks Dina gave you for your birthday last year. It's hard to heat houses like yours the way you used to but it works well enough to fight the chill so long as you layer. That's the name of the game these days: adapting.

You set the kettle to boil and forgo thinking about dinner for a few hours. Joel won't drink tea with you but if Ellie stops by she'll have some. Maybe you can convince her to watch the movie you pulled from the library this week. You love him, but Joel just doesn't appreciate comedies.

The front door creaks, the bell you have hanging from the doorknob jingling.

"S'me," Joel calls into the house. "You home?"

"Making tea." The kettle isn't steaming yet so you lean against the counter and wait.

The sounds of his return are familiar even though you can't see him. He locks the door with a click, shrugs his jacket off with a sigh. He sits down on the bench you put in the entryway so he can take his boots off. The thunk of one and then the other. He'll tuck them next to yours under the coat rack. When the weather is bad you try to come in the back door so not as to track snow through the house but you don't want his back to get any worse so a bench in front makes sense.

The kettle screams. You pull it off quick and pour the water into your mug -- a chipped green one with a dinosaur holding a cookie that you find endlessly amusing -- and leave it to steep. The floor creaks under your socked feet as you make your way into the hall. Joel still sits on the bench digging into the meat of one palm with his thumb like he's working the feeling back into them.

He looks up and his jaw softens a little. His cheeks are rosy from the cold and his hair a mess from the wind. "Evenin," he says.

"How was the wall?"

"Fine." He stops messing with his hands and rolls his shoulders back with a grunt. "Ellie swears she saw a moose on her last patrol. Said to tell you. I think she's fuckin' with me. How was your shift?"

"Fine," you echo. "Is she coming for dinner?"

He shakes his head. "Game night at Jesse's."

You cross the remaining distance between you and he parts his legs automatically so you can stand between his knees. You run a hand through his hair, pushing the greying fringe back from his eyes. He looks up at you and finally smiles, just a little. You drag your hand down the side of his face and enjoy the feel of his beard on your skin.

"Maybe she did see a moose." He rolls his eyes and brings a hand up to cover yours. You lean down to kiss him but something catches your eye and you pull back, tugging your hand from beneath his to circle his wrist.

"Jesus, Joel." He makes a surprised sound.

"Hey now, what --"

You pull his other hand from his knee and hold them both close to your face, turning them over in the light of the entryway. "You didn't wear gloves, did you?"

He just shrugs. That means someone else on the wall -- probably Ellie -- forgot theirs and he handed his own over.

The skin of his knuckles is dry and cracked, the rest of his palm dry and cold to the touch. You've seen them bloody, broken and bruised, and compared to that, this is tame. Welcome, almost. But you know he won't do a damn thing about it, let himself bleed rather than take a second to make things better.

And you've never minded this part. Taking care of him, making him slow down and rest for even just a little bit. You both know you'd get your hands dirty or worse for him and he for you, but this is the part he has trouble with. So you take the reigns.

It's part of how you fit together -- part of how you look after each other.

"We've got something for this." Joel looks unamused. You press a light kiss to one of his knuckles and his nostrils flare. "Go sit on the couch," you say.

"I'm fine --"

"Joel, they'll bleed if you don't let me --"

"I said I'm --"

"Hey," you say. He hears the finality of your tone and lets you have it, sighing your name in one long breath.

"Alright," he says. "Move, then."

You press a quick kiss to his lips and release his hands to step back. He stands with his usual grunt and you have to stop yourself from leaning into the width of him, from wrapping your arms around him and slotting your nose in his neck and never letting go.

"It's that salve Dina brought over last week," you tell him. "The new one for the winter. Smells nice. Good for this kind of stuff."

Joel makes his way to the couch and you fetch the tin from the kitchen.

"What's it made of?"

"Uh -- oil? And some flowers, I think? Wax, maybe."

He's settled into the cushions when you return, smirking. "It's okay to say you don't fuckin' know."

You sit next to him and unscrew the top, folding your legs so you're facing him. "Well then, I don't fuckin' know." You're sure to imitate his drawl.

"Cute."

"Gimme those hands, big guy."

The salve smells faintly of lavender and it's cold on your fingertips. Joel extends his right hand and you work it into his skin slowly, extra careful around where it's cracked and split. You feel his eyes on you but you let him look.

"Feels good, huh?" He hums. "If you'd wear your gloves then --"

"What was I gonna do, let her freeze?" So it was Ellie, then. You flick your gaze up and find his brow furrowed. If you have a free hand you'd smooth the crease with your thumb.

"No," you say. "Guess it's a damn good thing you have me here, then."

He chuckles, a throaty, rusty sound. "Guess so."

You finish the first hand and motion for his second. He gives it to you and you dig your thumbs into the meat of his palm. Joel lets you touch him whenever you like, for the most part. Pressing into his side when you walk down the street in town, trailing your lips down his neck until he whines just a little in your bedroom. You've worked knots out of his shoulders and cleaned blood from surface wounds. You can never get enough of him, of his warmth, the expanse of his tanned skin all yours for the taking.

And, boy, he touches you back.

So you take your time. You rub the salve between his fingers, over the ridges of knuckles split so many times you don't even know about. His hands are rough even when they're not dry and cracking, callused from years of hard work. From years of violence and playing guitar, shooting a gun and holding the people he loves. Dotted with scars and nicks, hands that have touched every part of you.

Joel's slightly slimy finger taps your chin. "You okay?" You've been stroking the same bit of his hand for who knows how long.

"Yeah," you say and mean it. You rub your own hands together to soak in some of the salve before putting the lid back on the tin and standing. "Need to let it soak in."

"Feels soaked in already," he grumbles.

"Stay there." He purses his lips. "I mean it, Joel."

"Bossy today," he says. "There's wood that needs choppin'." You ignore him since he's just being annoying. The salve goes back in the kitchen and his voice trails after you. "And I told Tommy I'd --"

You turn on the tap. "You gotta let that soak in," you say again from the sink.

"What? Can't hear over the water."

You turn off the tap and dry your hands. Joel is still on the couch when you return. "Sorry," you say. You run your hand through his hair again and settle back down next to him. "I said be patient."

"Don't think that's what you said."

"It's what I meant."

And he looks at you in that way that always makes your face feel hot. Like he's seeing right to the bone of you, like he's laying you bare on the floor in his mind. Like he never wants to stop looking at you, next to him on the couch, leg pressed to yours. Like he loves you.

"Alright," he says.

You get an idea, the flames licking at your belly and your hands itching to touch him again, to touch him differently than before. That idea has you grabbing a pillow and tossing it to the floor, has you getting up and drawing the curtains before you sink to your knees before him.

Joel only looks mildly surprised, eyebrows raised, mouth tugging up at the corner. "Now, I ain't gonna complain but --"

"Then don't," you say. You tug his shirt from his waistband and start working on his belt. "Gotta pass the time somehow. And I don't know what we're doing for dinner yet, so maybe I'm just stalling."

"Hell of a way to stall." He reaches for you to touch your face, maybe, or help you with his belt, when you click your tongue. "We can just go to the community hall--"

"Don't touch," you remind him. "You have to let it--"

"Soak, Jesus, yeah, yeah." Joel tips his head back along the sofa and takes one deep breath. If he really wanted to he could ignore you and you'd let him get away with it, but if there's one thing you and Joel have solidified, it's trust. He trusts you to take care of him, to handle him with hands that love him.

So you do. He lifts his hips just a little so you can tug his jeans down, zipper undone and button popped. You pull out his cock, already half-hard at the promise of what's to come. You spit into your palm and stroke him once root to tip and he hisses. More blood flows and he stiffens in your hand.

"You just gonna look at it?"

You give him a squeeze for being a shit. He laughs but it sounds punched out, on the edge. Frankly it's an effort not to take him in your mouth right away. You've always loved this -- the exchange of power, the trust. You're the one on your knees but you're calling the shots. And he's mouthwatering. The way his cock curves a little, the vein that runs along the underside. The mushroom head a little pinker than the rest, the wiry hair at his base. The hefty weight of his balls in your hand, on your tongue. You know how to make it good for him and it's good for you, too.

Joel opens his mouth to no doubt say something else annoying so you finally drag your tongue along the vein, swirling a little at the top before taking just the tip of him in your mouth. His precome is salty. You work your hand along the rest of him as you start to suck in earnest, hollowing your cheeks and taking a little more each time.

"Look so pretty, baby," Joel says. His voice is gravely, broken in his throat. You manage to take almost all of him and you swallow, just once. Your reward is your name spilling from his mouth in a groan.

It's messy. Spit beads at the corner of your mouth and drips a little as you work him, breathing through your nose when you take him all the way. So good, takin' all of me, keep goin'.

Joel has clearly forgotten your directive as he winds one hand in your hair and pulls just a little, just enough to make you moan around him. You don't scold him for it, instead keeping your eyes on his face. His head is tipped back just a little, lips parted at he gazes down at you. His other arm is stretched along the length of the couch, his fingers digging into the fabric as you bob on his cock.

You know he's close. You can feel how he's trying hard to keep his hips down, trying not to fuck your throat cause usually he asks first. So it's only a little surprising when he pulls you off him, eyes a little glazed and some color high on his cheeks.

He wipes spit from the corner of your mouth with the pad of his thumb. "Why don't you c'mere?" he says. "Let me fill you up."

"Joel." This was supposed to be about making him feel good. You know even if he comes in your mouth he'll ask you let him touch you, so frankly you don't mind if he fucks you or not.

He smirks, presses his fingers into the side of your neck a little. You swallow so he can feel it. "We both know you can take it," he drawls, eyes dark. "Always gets you goin', my cock in your mouth."

You can feel the heat between your legs, the arousal pooling in your gut. He's right but he's also an asshole. "You're annoying," you tell him.

"So is that a no?"

You drag the flat of your tongue up his shaft one last time as punishment before standing, using his knees as leverage to get off your own. He shucks off his jeans the rest of the way as you drag down your pants, letting them pool with your underwear at your feet before stepping out. Joel holds out a hand for you to balance on and you take it, putting your other on his shoulder.

"Feels softer already," you mutter. Joel snickers and you straddle him. He uses one hand to drag his fingers through your cunt and you fail to swallow a gasp.

"Well, look at that," he says. "I was right." He pushes two fingers into you and they go easily, your hips jerking as he pumps them in and out once, twice, and then you're empty again.

"Smug bastard," you manage. He brings his hand to his mouth and takes a long lick before surging forward to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you even wetter.

Joel licks into your mouth and you kiss him back sloppily, desperately, in the way you know he likes. You're so busy with that hands on his face, his beard scratching your skin deliciously, that you don't notice what else he's doing. His hand presses into the bare skin of your back under your shirt and you lift up a little on instinct and then --

The head of his cock nudges at your entrance and his hand presses again and you meet the movement of his hips with your own and he fills you with just one stroke.

You moan in unison, Joel's arm wrapping around your back as you curl yours around his neck, mouths not so much pressed together as hovering as you pant, as you adjust. Even with how wet you are Joel is a stretch, a welcome one, but a stretch regardless. You shift your hips, roll them back and forth a little.

"Go on, then," you tell him. "Fuck me."

He laughs.

His lips leave yours and trail down your chin, sucking spots onto your neck and on that spot that makes you keen as he does what you ask. He goes slow at first, letting you meet him thrust for thrust. One hand snakes up your shirt, thumbs at your nipple when he finds no bra in the way. You wing your fingers in his hair and tug, tug until he picks up the pace, until all you can hear is the smack of his flesh against yours.

"Joel -- Joel -- right there --"

"M'not gonna -- I -- fuck --"

"Said you were gonna fill me up, didn't you?" you pant, managing to find a bit of cheek in the haze of your fucking. "C'mon, Miller. Don't keep a lady wait--"

His hips pick up the pace, his hands pressing into you hard enough to bruise. You give up trying to tease him and hang on for dear life, managing to snake a hand between your legs to rub at your clit as he pounds into you. The only thing you can say is his name over and over as you feel the hook pull taught, feel the head of his cock brush against and then pound that spot that makes your vision blur.

Joel comes just before you do, his thrusts stuttering and his name on your lips. You feel it, the heat inside you and it's enough to send you over the edge, your cunt squeezing him as he empties inside you.

You press your forehead to his and catch your breath. He palms your neck, your jaw, slides his thumb lazily under your eye and kisses the corner of your mouth.

"Hell of a salve," he manages.

You slot your lips over his. "Wear your damn gloves." Joel laughs and it shifts him inside you. Even softening it makes you both hiss a little. "Just gimme a second."

His hand drags up and down your back, pressing into your spine. "Take your time," he says. "M'clearly not goin' anywhere."

"You never stop, do you?"

Joel kisses you again. "'fraid not."

You laugh into his neck. "Good."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction

[hd-junglebook]

Its Always Been You

Part 2 - Word Count 4932

A.N - Don't hate me for how long this is OR that it's just arguing. I needed thing to move along sue me. And if you are mad, that's why y/n got her feelings hurt. sucks to suck.

Prev - Next

Y/N stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past as Jack navigated the busy Newark streets. The silence seemed to stretch on endlessly, broken only by the soft hum of the engine and the distant sounds of traffic, each second feeling heavier than the last. Y/N had not made a peep, her thoughts racing like a freight train through her mind.

Her mind raced with questions, each one more painful than the last. How could Jack have kept something like this from her? How long had he been seeing Daphne, and why had he never mentioned her before?

Y/N had always thought that she and Jack shared everything, that their bond was unbreakable. But now, she couldn't help but wonder if she had been fooling herself all along.

The thought that Jack might have known about her feelings for him made Y/N's stomach twist with humiliation. Had she been too obvious in her affection, too transparent in her longing?

The idea that he might have been pitying her all this time, or worse, laughing at her behind her back, made her want to curl up and disappear.

Y/N's eyes burned with unshed tears, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them fall.

Instead, she focused on keeping her breathing steady, on maintaining the fragile composure that was all that was keeping her from falling apart. The streetlights flickered past in a blur, casting fleeting shadows that danced across the car's interior.

The glow from the dashboard illuminated Jack's profile, his jaw clenched and his eyes focused on the road ahead, but she could feel the tension radiating off him in waves.

Beside her, Jack gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white with tension. Y/N could feel the weight of his gaze on her, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. She didn't trust herself not to break down if she did, to unleash the torrent of emotions that were swirling inside her like a hurricane.

The silence was now feeling unbearable, a thick fog that clouded her thoughts and stifled her words. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, her fingers twisting and turning in a nervous dance. Her heart felt like it was caught in a vice grip, each beat echoing loudly in her ears.

But still, she said nothing, the words lodged in her throat like shards of glass. What could she say, really? What words could possibly encompass the depth of her pain, the magnitude of her unrequited love?

“Can you please talk to me, Y/N? I don’t get what's the big deal," Jack pleaded.

She risked a glance in his direction. He looked as uncomfortable as she felt, and for a moment, Y/N felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this was all just a misunderstanding, a terrible joke that they could laugh about later.

But then she remembered the way Daphne had looked at Jack, the possessive gleam in her eye and the casual intimacy of her touch. There was no denying the truth of their relationship, no matter how much Y/N wished she could.

As they came to a stop, the soft purr of the engine died down, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Jack pulled into the garage of the apartment building, navigating the narrow road with ease due to the sparse traffic of the late hour, making the drive up seem even longer.

“It’s nothing, Jack. I was just shocked. You never even mentioned her to me,” Y/N began, her voice shaky. Her eyes darted to his, searching for understanding as she bit her lower lip nervously. “We’re supposed to tell each other everything, and you hid a girlfriend from me,” she continued.

 "Why didn't you tell me?"

Jack's hands tightened on the wheel, his jaw clenching. "Y/N, I..."

Jack's hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. "Y/N," he said, his voice hoarse. "I'm sorry. Just let me explain somehow.”

Y/N swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. "Okay. Let’s just get upstairs first."

With that, Y/N pulled her wrist from his grasp, she opened the car door and stepped out into the cool night air, her legs shaking beneath her. She couldn't bear to hear whatever explanation Jack might offer, couldn't stand the thought of listening to him speak of daphne.

They made their way up the steps to their apartment, Y/N's heart felt like it was breaking with every step. She had always thought that loving Jack was the one constant in her life, the one thing she could count on no matter what.

…

As they reached their floor, Y/N fumbled with her keys, her hands shaking so badly that she nearly dropped them. She could feel Jack's eyes on her, could sense his hesitation, but she refused to meet his gaze. She didn't trust herself not to break down completely if she did.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Y/N managed to unlock the door. She stepped inside, the familiar scent of their apartment washing over her.

Behind her, Jack closed the door softly, the click of the latch sounding like a gunshot in the heavy silence. Y/N could hear him take a deep breath, could sense him searching for the right words to say.

"Y/N," Jack said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a step towards her, his hand outstretched. "It's not really what you think. Daphne and I... it's complicated."

Y/N laughed, the sound harsh and bitter. "Complicated? Is that what you call it when you have a girlfriend you never told your supposed best friend about?" She spun around to face him.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out eventually? Did you think you could just keep living this double life and I would never know?"

“I can't lose you, Y/N. You're my best friend, the most important person in my life. I know I screwed up, but I'll do whatever it takes to make it right. I'll spend every day proving to you that you can trust me, that I'll never keep anything from you again."

Y/N's eyes searched his face, looking for any sign of deception or insincerity. But all she saw was honesty and fear, a desperate need for her to believe him. She could feel the tension between them, thick and heavy.

"I know Jack," she answered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’m sorry, it’s just been a long night. Let’s just let it go. I mean, for Christ’s sake you’re not even dating."

“Can we just watch a movie or something. Forget about her for tonight.” He suggested.

“Maybe tomorrow jack, I’m just really tired.” Jack looked disappointed but he nodded anyway, sitting himself on the couch as y/n walked to her room.

As she pushed open her door and stepped inside, Y/N finally allowed herself to break, the tears she had been holding back spilling down her cheeks in hot, salty tracks.

She sank to the floor, her back pressed against the door, and let the sobs wrack her body, mourning the loss of a love she had never truly had.

…

Y/N groaned as the shrill sound of her alarm pierced through the fog of sleep, dragging her back to consciousness. She blinked blearily, her eyes adjusting to the soft light filtering through her curtains.

For a moment, she couldn't remember how she had gotten into bed the night before, her memories hazy and fragmented.

The events of the previous evening came rushing back, hitting her like a tidal wave. Daphne’s appearance, the breakdown she had. Y/N threw her hands over her face, huffing out a string of unintelligible words as she tried to process the whirlwind of emotions that swirled inside her.

With a heavy sigh, she pushed off the blanket and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The apartment was eerily quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the city traffic outside her window. Y/N wondered if Jack was still asleep, or if he had already left for practice.

She padded softly to the bathroom, her bare feet cold against the hardwood floor. The thought of a hot shower to soothe her aching head and wash away the remnants of last night's tears sounded like heaven. Y/N turned the water to its highest temperature, steam filling the small room as she stepped inside.

The scalding water cascaded over her skin, turning it pink and raw. Y/N tilted her head back, letting the spray hit her face and wash away the smudged mascara that had dried on her cheeks. She closed her eyes.

A nagging voice in the back of her mind that whispered that she would never be enough, that Jack would always choose someone else over her.

Y/N shook her head, trying to dispel the negative thoughts. She couldn't let herself go down that rabbit hole, couldn't let the pain and insecurity consume her. She needed to be strong, to focus on herself and her own needs, even if that meant putting some distance between herself and Jack.

She was just about to step out when she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Curious, she peeked through the sheer curtain, the gauzy material allowing her a glimpse into the hallway beyond, to see Jack standing in the doorway, his hair mussed from sleep and his eyes still heavy with exhaustion.

There, standing in the doorway, was Jack, looking like he had just rolled out of bed. His dark hair was mussed from sleep, sticking up in endearing tufts that made Y/N's fingers itch to smooth them down. His eyes were still heavy with exhaustion.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the tension from the night before still hanging heavy in the air between them.

The early morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over Jack's features and making his blue eyes appear even more vivid than usual. Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she drank in the sight of him, her gaze roaming over the strong lines of his jaw and the curve of his lips.

Even disgruntled he still looked beautiful.

Jack caught sight of himself in the mirror. His eyes widened as he took in his disheveled appearance.

Unable to resist, Y/N couldn't help but laugh at the sight of him, her shoulders shaking with mirth as she watched him pout at his reflection. The sound seemed to startle him, and he turned to face her, his lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated frown.

Even as he tried to look offended, Y/N could see the twinkle of amusement in his eyes, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Oh, you think this is funny, do you?" he asked, his voice still rough with sleep. The sound sent a shiver down Y/N's spine.

Y/N nodded, her laughter growing louder as Jack's pout deepened. She grinned at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I'm sorry," she said tucking herself behind the curtain, not sounding sorry at all.

"But you should see yourself right now. You look like a grumpy puppy who got woken up from a nap."

Jack's eyes narrowed, but the smile he had been trying to suppress finally broke through, lighting up his face and making Y/N's breath catch in her throat. "A puppy, huh?" he said, taking a step towards her. "I'll show you a puppy."

Jack's eyes sparked with mischief as he lunged towards Y/N, his hands outstretched as if to grab her from the shower. Y/N let out a yelp of surprise, her laughter echoing off the tiled walls as she quickly tucked herself behind the shower curtain, the flimsy material serving as a makeshift barrier between them.

"Jack, wait!" she pleaded, her voice breathless with laughter. "You can't hit a guy with glasses!"

Jack paused, his hands still hovering in the air as he raised an eyebrow at her. "You're not wearing glasses," he pointed out, his lips twitching with amusement.

Y/N peeked out from behind the curtain, her eyes wide with mock innocence. "Well, no, but I could be. You never know."

Jack shook his head, a chuckle escaping his lips as he stepped back from the shower, his hands raised in a sign of peace. "Alright, alright, you win. I surrender."

Y/N emerged from behind the curtain, her hair damp and her cheeks flushed from the steam. She was suddenly acutely aware of how close they were standing, the small bathroom feeling even more cramped with Jack's tall frame taking up space. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the clean scent of soap.

For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, and all Y/N could focus on was the intensity of Jack's gaze and the way his eyes seemed to darken as they roamed over her face. Her heart raced in her chest, her skin tingling with a sudden, electric awareness of his presence.

But then, the events of the previous night came rushing back, hitting her like a splash of cold water. The hurt, the betrayal, the overwhelming sense of confusion and uncertainty - it all came flooding back, making her throat tighten and her chest ache.

Y/N felt her smile fade, the laughter dying in her throat as she took a small step back, putting some distance between them.

She averted her gaze, suddenly finding the pattern of the shower curtain incredibly interesting as she tried to gather her thoughts.

The sound of the water hitting the tiles seemed to grow louder in the silence, the steady rhythm a stark contrast to the pounding of her heart. Y/N swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry as she struggled to find the right words.

"I'll be out in a minute, then it's all yours," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, couldn't bear to see the hurt or confusion in his eyes.

Jack's hands fell to his sides, his expression growing serious. "Are you still mad at me?” he said softly. “I meant what I said last night, Y/N. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right between us."

Y/N nodded; her throat tight with emotion. "I know you will, Jack. I’m not mad at you, I’m just not feeling good right now.”

Jack was quiet for a moment. Y/N could hear him shift his weight, could sense the way he was searching for something to say. But in the end, he simply nodded, his shoulders slumping slightly as he took a step back.

"Okay," he said softly, his voice rough with an emotion Y/N couldn't quite place. "I'll just... I'll wait in the living room." And with that, he turned and walked out of the bathroom, the sound of his footsteps fading as he made his way down the hall.

She knew that they couldn't go on like this forever, that they would have to face the hard truths and difficult conversations sooner or later.

But for now, she simply wanted to lose herself in the warmth of the shower, to let the water wash away the pain and confusion and leave her feeling clean and new.

…

After their last awkward encounter, y/n had decided to find someone to talk to. Y/N lay sprawled on her stomach, her feet swinging lazily behind her as she cradled her phone in her hands.

The soft glow of the screen illuminated her face, casting shadows across her features as she poured her heart out to her best friend, Jenn.

"I just don't know what to do," Y/N confessed, her voice tinged with a mix of frustration and despair. "I mean, I always knew that Jack and I were just friends, but I guess a part of me always hoped that maybe, someday, he would see me as something more."

Jenn’s face filled the screen, her brows furrowed in sympathy as she listened to Y/N's tale of woe. "Oh, honey," she said softly, her voice tinny through the phone's speakers. "I'm so sorry. I can't even imagine how you must be feeling right now."

Y/N sighed, burying her face in her pillow for a moment before lifting her head to look back at the screen. "It's just... I feel so stupid, you know? Like, how could I not have seen this coming? I really thought moving all this way together would open his eyes."

Jenn shook her head, her expression fierce. "You're not stupid, Y/N. You're human. And sometimes, when we're in love, we see what we want to see, even if it's not really there."

Y/N felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and she blinked them back furiously. "I just don't know what to do now," she said, her voice small and lost.

"I mean, Jack is my best friend, but how can I be around him knowing that he's with someone else? Knowing that he'll never see me the way I see him?"

They were quiet for a moment, Jenn/s face was pensive as she mulled over Y/N's words. "Maybe," she said slowly, her tone cautious. "Maybe it's time for you to start thinking about yourself for a change."

Y/N frowned, not quite wanting to get into her plan. "Not this again, we’re not playing matchmaker."

She leaned forward, her expression earnest. “whatever, but maybe it's time for you to put yourself out there, to start meeting new people and exploring new possibilities. You've been so focused on Jack for so long, but there's a whole world out there waiting for you, Y/N."

Y/N bit her lip, her heart racing at the thought. "I don't know, J. I'm not really the dating type. And besides, who would want to go out with me?"

She could feel the eye roll through the screen. "Are you kidding me? Y/N, you're gorgeous, smart, funny, and kind. Any guy would be lucky to have you." Y/N felt a blush creep up her cheeks at Sarah's words, a small spark of hope igniting in her chest.

Jenn nodded emphatically. “Why don't you download one of those dating apps, like Tinder or Bumble? Just to see what's out there, you know? No pressure, no expectations, just a chance to meet some new people and have some fun."

Y/N let out a surprised laugh, the sound bursting from her lips before she could stop it. "A dating app? Seriously?" The idea both thrilling and terrifying at the same time. She had never been one for casual dating, had always been more of a relationship kind of girl. But maybe Jenn was right.

Maybe it was time for her to step outside her comfort zone, to take a chance on something new. “It could be fun! And who knows, maybe you'll meet someone amazing who will make you forget all about Jack and his stupid secrets."                                

"Okay," she said slowly, her smile growing wider. "I'll do it. I'll download a dating app and see what happens."

…

The soft beat of y/ns favorite song played softly in the background as she stood in front of her mirror, taking one last look at her reflection, she debated between two pairs of heels when she heard the front door open, and the sound of familiar voices filled the apartment.

Her heart skipped a beat as she realized that Jack was home, and he wasn't alone. She took a deep breath before stepping out of her room.

The black mini dress hugged her curves in all the right places, and the smokey eye makeup gave her a sultry, mysterious air. She had spent the better part of an hour getting ready, determined to make a good impression on her date.

"Hi John," Y/N said, her voice soft and slightly breathless as she caught sight of Jack's teammate standing beside him. She couldn't help but notice the way John's eyes widened as he took in her appearance, his gaze traveling up and down her body appreciatively.

"Wow, Y/N," John said, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You look amazing. Got a hot date tonight?"

Y/N felt a blush creep up her cheeks, but she forced herself to maintain eye contact, a coy smile playing on her lips. "Maybe," she said, her voice teasing. "Guess you'll have to wait and see."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Jack stiffen, his jaw clenching as he watched the exchange. She tried to ignore the way her heart raced at the sight of him, the way her skin tingled with awareness of his presence.

"Well, whoever the lucky guy is, he's in for a treat," John said, his gaze lingering on her a moment longer before he turned to Jack, a knowing look in his eye. "Don't you think, Jack?" Jack's expression was unreadable, but Y/N could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clenched at his sides.

"Yeah," he said, his voice tight. "Y/N always looks great."

Y/N felt a thrill of satisfaction at the barely concealed jealousy in his tone, but she forced herself to keep her focus on John. "Thanks, John," she said, her voice warm. "You're too sweet." She took a step closer to him, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor.

"You know, I've been meaning to ask you something," she said, her voice low and conspiratorial. "Why don’t you come over more often? It would be nice to see you more.”

John's eyes lit up, a grin spreading across his face. "Well jack here is trying to keep you to himself. Just say the word and I'll clear my schedule."

Y/N laughed, the sound light and flirtatious. "I might just take you up on that," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

She could feel Jack's gaze burning into her back, could sense the tension radiating off him in waves. But she refused to let herself be swayed. "Well, I should probably get going," she said, glancing at her watch. "Don't want to keep my date waiting."

She brushed past John, her arm grazing against his as she made her way towards the door. "It was great seeing you, John," she called over her shoulder, her voice sweet.

"Don't be a stranger, okay?" And with that, she was gone, the sound of her heels echoing down the hallway as she made her way out of the apartment. She could feel Jack's eyes on her until the very last moment.

Y/N felt Jack's hand close around her arm, his grip firm but gentle. Before she could protest, he pulled her towards him, spinning her around until she was facing him, her body pressed against his chest.

Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him, their faces mere inches apart. “Supposed to tell each other everything, remember? Guess that doesn’t apply to dates or girlfriends,” he snapped, tone dripping with sarcasm. His gaze was icy, challenging him to respond. 

They both stood in the dark hallway, a silent standoff. The pale blue moonlight filtered through the narrow window, casting an eerie glow on their faces. y/n finally broke the silence, his voice as cold as the icy blue of a frozen lake. "If you're going to be like this, maybe I should find somewhere else to stay tonight."

Jack's eyes narrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. The once vibrant blue of his eyes had dulled to a stormy gray, reflecting the turmoil within.

"I broke up with her three months ago, okay? You've been avoiding me for a week straight," he shot back, his words tinged with frustration and a hint of desperation.

"I..." He searched for the right words, but they eluded his grasp, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand in an hourglass. The silence stretched between them, as vast and empty as a cloudless blue sky. Jack didn't know what she wanted him to say.

In fact, all he could see was her eyes, two deep pools of blue that threatened to drown him in their depths. He was at a complete loss for words, his mind as blank as a fresh canvas.

"I know you have feelings for me. I never brought it up because if I was wrong then you'd be mad at me, but I've known for years," he finally confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, like a thick blanket of blue smoke.

She felt a lump form in her throat as she listened to his words, each syllable carving a deeper wound in her already battered soul. The revelation was like a bolt of lightning, striking her heart with a searing pain.

She knew. Jack had known all along, yet he had chosen to remain silent, to spare her the pain of rejection. The realization settled over her like a heavy fog, obscuring her thoughts and feelings, leaving her lost and alone in a world devoid of color.

Her hand remained clasped in his, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been. She wanted to hold on, to cling to his warmth and the fleeting hope it offered, like a drowning sailor grasping at a lifeline in the vast ocean of despair.

Her fingers trembled, the icy blue of her veins visible beneath her skin, as if the color had been drained from her very being. And then, like a dagger to the heart, came his final confession.

"And I wish things were different, but there's no good way to say this. I don't like you in that way, but I really hope you find someone that does.

His voice was soft, barely audible above the deafening silence that engulfed them, but he didn't let go of her hand. It stayed there, a lifeline that tethered her to the harsh reality of the moment.

Y/N felt as if the air had been sucked from her lungs, her heart shattering into a million pieces at his words. She had always known, deep down, that Jack didn't feel the same way about her, but hearing him say it out loud was like a knife to the chest, the blade twisting with every syllable.

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision until all she could see was a hazy blue mist. She blinked them away, unwilling to let them fall in front of him, to show him just how deeply his words had cut her.

Her free hand clenched into a fist at her side, nails digging into her palm, the pain a welcome distraction from the agony that consumed her heart.

She wanted to scream, to cry, to beg him to reconsider, but the words lodged in her throat, as heavy and immovable as a boulder. Instead, she simply nodded, a jerky, mechanical motion that belied the turmoil within.

She forced herself to meet his gaze, her eyes a dull, lifeless blue, like the sky before a storm, void of the sparkle and warmth they once held.

The tears pooled in her eyes, threatening to spill over and reveal the depth of her anguish. "How long have you known?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, a fragile wisp of sound that hung in the air between them.

Jack sighed, his shoulders slumping as he released her wrist, his hand falling limply to his side. The warmth of his touch lingered on her skin, a cruel reminder of the connection they once shared.

"A while," he admitted, his voice heavy with guilt. "I didn't know how to bring it up without hurting you, so I just... didn't."

Y/N nodded, her throat tight with emotion, the lump growing larger with each passing second. She swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the knot of pain that threatened to choke her.

"I see," she said, her voice flat, devoid of the vibrant emotion that once colored her words. "Well, I guess I should thank you for finally being honest with me, even if it is a little late."

She turned to go, her heart heavy with the weight of his rejection, each step a monumental effort as if she were wading through quicksand.

Before she could take more than a few steps, she heard Jack's voice, soft and sad, calling after her, a desperate plea for understanding.

"Y/N, I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking with emotion, the raw honesty of his words cutting through the suffocating silence. "I never meant to hurt you. You're my best friend."

She walked away, her heels clicking on the tiled floor as she made her way to the elevator. Jack's words echoed in her mind like a cruel, endless loop, a haunting melody that played on repeat, taunting her with the knowledge of what could never be.

She had always known that loving him would end in heartbreak, the inevitable conclusion to a story that was doomed from the start.

But somehow, that knowledge did nothing to dull the pain that threatened to consume her, body and soul, leaving her hollow and empty, a mere shell of the person she once was.

As the elevator doors closed behind her, she leaned against the wall, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs, the tears she had fought so hard to contain now flowing freely down her cheeks. The fluorescent lights cast a harsh glow on her face, illuminating the tracks of her tears.

She closed her eyes, willing the pain to subside, but it only seemed to grow stronger.

…

the next chapter is going to be put off for a while since I want to get until dawn started. Also do y'all not fw Until Dawn I really think Jack could eat us up in a fic that isn't revolved around hockey. there's only so many variations. But do you guys even want until dawn, please let me know.

#angst #fluff #masterlist #new writers on tumblr #new fic #x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes smut #jack hughes #jh86 #njd #nj devils #nhl #new jersey #masterpost #luke hughes #new jersey devils #timo meier #nico hischier #jesper bratt #nico hischer x reader #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x oc #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes insta edit

[dilutedconfusion]

Lost Star

Eustass Kid x F!Reader (Part 2) Real World AU

Sexy smexy horrible gut wrenching angst.

Summary: You and Kid get to have a bittersweet phone call about why you haven’t been seeing much of him lately. Kid knows why and its eating at him from the inside out. Yet you’re still lost in a forest during winter, drunk off your ass. Kids a liar and a lover. You’re a lover and loser. Something bad is going to happen. But for now lets read about Kid crying <3

Warnings: None???

Word Count: 3.6k

Part 1 Part 2

Tags: @aynfp @shamblespirate @likeeliterallywtf @tulipps-maehem @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth

Between the silence and the sound of Kids revved up car you stuffed your body inside yourself. Weaving your bone-cold arms textured with goosebumps through the sleeves of your jacket to meet your center. You shoved your head below the collar as well, effectively using the warmth of your heart guided into your breasts to make a somewhat efficient self-heating system. Putting the call on speaker mode and getting at least one percent warmer.

“I feel like a turtle…” You mumbled softly, a growling pain rousing your stomach. A hearty burp of old tequila shots bubbling in your throat.

Kid had gone awkwardly silent. He told you he would never hang up in your time of need but as you listened to him shove his gear into drive, the loud echoing of the underground parking lot whirring endlessly, you couldn’t help but feel more alone than ever.

It doesn’t help that I’m in a forest alone.

“Kid? Did you hear me? I said I feel like a turtle.” You repeated, hoping and praying to hear his voice again. You couldn’t get enough of it right now. If he wanted to recite the entire dictionary you would’ve let him. As long as you got to listen to his rasp deep voice drift you back into comfort.

Or drift me back to anywhere safe really…but I’d prefer to be safe with him.

“I heard ya. It was stupid so I didn’t respond.” You heard the soft click of his tongue just trying to sound annoyed like he always did. Like you were nothing but a bother and he didn’t know why he was friends with you in the first place. “I should be getting compensation for dealing with your ass I swear to god.”

He shifted his phone on its stand sitting idly on the dash. The profile picture of you flipping off the camera followed by the words “Little Shit” as your profile name stared back at him. His eyes unconsciously gliding to look at it despite the road ahead. Making him wish he hadn’t used that picture for your profile in the first place.

When I see her she isn’t going to look like that. Probably half frozen and crying if I take too long.

His annoyance wasn’t as pungent as it usually was. You could hear how he softly scratched his hair on the other end. Leading you to believe he wasn’t being serious because he never made fun of you to hurt you. But you couldn’t help but frown regardless.

“Don’t say that.” Your voice was soft and breathy. Floating up towards Kid in his truck. The roads were quiet and empty late at night. Kid lived in a big city but he was driving towards the rural south. He just had to hop onto the freeway, the warm streetlights hung like stars guiding him. Pressing on the gas a bit more fervently than the authorities would like. His truck roaring in response.

“Don’t be a baby. I’m serious Y/N I’m not letting you do something like this again. I’ll fucking lock you in your own house. Handcuff you to the goddamn radiator if I have to.” What once was worry was now turning into frustration. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Couldn’t believe that you of all people had done something as stupid as this.

Y/N’s lost in a forest drunk. Y/N’s lost in a forest drunk at night.

A little part of him wanted to scream. Wanted you to stop acting drunk even if you were and take this seriously for just a moment. He was worried and it felt like you couldn’t care less about your safety.

“Kid don’t say that. I don’t need you to baby me. You’ve never babied me before. I just…fucked up this time.” You chewed over your dry and chapped lips. The bright light of your screen fills up the small cloth cave you reside in. Trying desperately not to pay attention to the forest sounds around you along with the coldness of your ass against the ground.

Kid could nearly feel the guilt in your voice. Like the sharp edge of a knife delicately lacing at your own throat. Willing to cut out the wound of a problem that was you. It was disgusting. Kid didn’t want to hear it, but he couldn’t handle it. Not right now.

“Oh, you fucked up but so did every single one of those so-called friends at that party. If I ever catch you hanging around those small dick and brained sons of bitches again I’m fucking popping their eyes out.” His thick fingers clenched around the steering wheel a bit tighter. Amber eyes flickering into his mirrors to see nothing but the road and the lights of buildings behind him.

He felt twitchy. Like one jerk of the hand or one sound too loud could send him overboard. But the problem was he didn’t know what he would fall into if he did go overboard.

She went to a goddamn party alone. She put herself in danger. Why...why the hell would she do that?

“Their eyeballs? Eww, that's icky Kid. I only knew 3 people there anyway and it's not like I asked them to baby me. They didn’t expect it.” The sudden yet expectant sound of your voice threw Kid’s mind out of its spiral. Your voice sounded stupid. As if it was pitched up too high and taking a bit too long to find the right words. He listened to the slight flutter of your breath. The chatter indicating the sudden shaking of your spine.

She’s cold. Kid’s steering wheel groaned and squeaked in response. Nearly snapping it in half as he made a wide turn onto the freeway entrance ramp. “Well I didn’t expect to have to go on a rescue mission tonight but here we are.” He let out a huff of air, checking his mirrors with narrowed eyes before merging on.

Not another car in sight as he shifted into 5th gear, bringing his car up to a rolling 90 as quick as he intended to. “If I was there I would’ve watched ya. Keep you on a 10-foot leash just to make sure you and you’re dumbass don’t get hurt.”

“You wanna leash me? That’s kinda kinky Kid.”

Kids eyes instantly rolled so hard he could have sprained something. “Oh fucking hell be quiet.” He heard your small little giggle. That quick shake in your chest was so warm it made his permanent frown disappear for only a moment. “I can see your shit-eating grin from here asshole.” Another rouse of your laughter came from the other end of the call. That hard exterior of his cracking under the pressure of that stupid laugh again for the millionth time.

Maybe she’s okay. She’s cracking jokes but…she always does that when she’s down.

You wiped the small tears out of the corners of your eyes. Pressing your legs closer to your chest as quick burst of wind breezed past you. “So basically what you’re saying is you wish you would’ve come to this party with me? That woulda been swell. I’ve missed you a lot lately. They even played some of our songs.” You recalled the night with a mix of sullen worry and unbridled passion. Remembering how you danced horribly only to catch yourself looking around for a man who wasn’t even there. A vision of him stuck in your peripheral vision like a dreamy visage.

Kid took a moment to respond. Opening his mouth just to close it again before his eyes twitched from the weird feeling growing in his chest. “I don’t have time to be messing around with a bunch of people I don’t care about and neither do you. You’re not a fucking party animal Y/N. I’ve seen your shy ass freeze up anytime some rando tries to flirt with ya.”

Though your voice was sweet, Kids was harsh. There was nothing he could do but spit out everything as if it tasted horrible. She needs to cut this shit out. One more ‘I missed you’ and I'm going to pop a blood vessel.

“Kid, I keep telling you that they weren’t flirting. I don’t know what people think they're doing but it ain’t flirting. Or at least it doesn’t feel like it.” A small wave of relief fell over him when you chose to talk about the flirting thing. A valid misdirection from the obvious elephant in the room.

“It doesn’t feel like it because you double-guess everything people say to you. I’m supposed to be the ‘emotionally unperceptive wall of a man’ or whatever you call me. Not you.”

You rolled your eyes at that. Chewing your lips with a smile and staring at his contact information on your screen. Nothing but a tulip emoji as his name and a picture of him dead asleep with a dick drawn on his face.

“Well, don't you know me so well?” Kid could basically see the sassy tilt of your head as you said that. Staring at him with those vivacious eyes that made his stomach turn into knots.

“I do.” He said simply, nodding his head and puffing out his chest for no one to see. It was instinctual at this point. Putting on a show of confidence for you just to laugh and make fun of him.

“Which sorta makes me think you’re not so unperceptive huh?”

Kid backed off on his confidence show almost immediately. Swallowing hard he stared at the road ahead of him. What once was 4 lanes of a highway became 2. Giving him a sign that he was getting closer to you. “Well sorry I know my friend so well. I’ll make sure to forget everything you say to me like I used to.”

His own words nearly soccer-punched him in the gut. Remembering how he was when he first met you. You were just some girl he had to sit next to during one of his general classes in college. He barely even remembered your name no matter how many times you talked to him. He’d roll his eyes and stare off into space. You’re string of words seemingly endless no matter how much he pushed you away. Then after being separated by schedules, he ended up walking in on you working the register at his favorite music shop. Lined with records and CDs he found himself going back to that shop for more than just good music.

“You really were such an ass.” Your voice was a lot quieter as you spoke. A semi-unconscious haze of nostalgia bubbling around in your head. Kid knew what he did was wrong. In fact, he went home after finally having a genuine conversation with you to cuss himself out in the mirror. He had never told you that. How much he regretted not having you in his life a lot earlier than he did.

But Kid didn’t tell you a lot of things.

Like the dangerous extent of the illegal scams he’d run at his mechanic shop. Or the sleepless nights he’d get worried about everything and sometimes even you.

Kid wasn’t a mirror. He wasn’t reflecting exactly what he was like he should be. Instead, he was distorted. His lack of arm and scars not from a bad car accident but the result of all those shoot-outs and fights he’d been in. His guns and knives littered all over his body yet hidden so he didn’t scare you. His hands and chest covered in warm blood just to be washed off until his skin burned before you’d come and see him. His absence in that mirror, in your life, a sign that maybe he didn’t care and never did. But again, Kid knew if he was anything he was definitely a liar.

“I know and I already apologized.”

Yet that’ll never be good enough. Kid could feel his jaw tightening. His head cursed to be heavy with guilt as it hung on his shoulders.

“Well, I still remember you ignoring me. What happened was a strike of luck anyway. Gosh, I nearly hid in the back when you first walked into my job because I didn’t want to get friend-blocked again.” You were happy as you said that thankfully. If you could see his face you wouldn’t have been.

Well, I’m glad you didn’t give up on me but maybe that's just me being selfish. Kid couldn’t manage to say that out loud. Leaving you hanging on your words as you listened to him silently drive. It felt awkward as if you had said something wrong. Something to piss him off. Your mind scattering and eyes flickering to find something else to talk about. Something to keep him from ignoring you like he used to.

“Ya know my phone background is of us at that concert from last year. The one where I did your makeup all cool.” You mumbled softly, popping your head out of your jacket to check on your surroundings. You pressed the small button on the side of your phone. Your lock screen popping up with a picture of you and Kid side by side in a sea of people. The photo slightly blurry from the two of you jumping up and down while the stage of performers stood in the back.

“I remember that,” Kid mumbled his voice a bit more horse than before. He could nearly see the red lights, dark eyeshadow, and big grins of that night. But what was once sweet now felt distinctly bitter.

“I swear if you hadn’t been there I would’ve gotten trampled in that pit. I’m not small by any means but you give me the scary dog privileges I need.” You let out a chuckle that nearly tore at Kid's heart. His chest getting tighter and his throat dry.

Kid. This is not the time. Stop thinking about it and just drive. He had no idea why this was affecting him so badly. He’s been living with the idea that he needed to let you go for months. It haunted him any time you managed to creep up into his mind. But he never once felt like this.

I'm tired. It’s late. She’s out there and alone. I'm just being delusional.

“I’m not your fucking guard dog.” Was all he could say or maybe that was all he was good at. Complaining whenever you said stupid shit instead of saying what was really on his mind.

“Oh hell yeah you are. That and my best friend. We drank and ate like 2 big ass pizzas together on your couch. Killer nearly knocked us upside the head cause we wouldn’t go to sleep. You kept making me laugh so hard my fucking ribs hurt. Plus I swear I was shitting nothing but grease for like 2 days after that.” You let out a weak laugh, head and heart swirling in a warm sweet remembrance.

Kid could envision that night as if it was happening now. You in those loose pants and a tank top. Hair messy from all the head banging. You sat beside him on the couch while you both played video games until the sun came up. The colorful glow of the TV on your skin now shiny from washing off all your makeup. The way you always managed to smile when you looked at him.

I’m going crazy.

“Didn’t need to know that last part but yeah…it was nice. Maybe…we should do that again.” Kid couldn’t stop his mouth from saying something stupid. He couldn’t lie like he always did. It was all he was good for but now? Well, right now he was hoping you’d forget everything he’s saying.

The minute he said that you felt yourself light up. As if all that worry in your heart had disappeared within an instant. “Really? You actually wanna go to another concert with me? I basically had to beg you last time. Plus you know I...haven’t seen much of you lately.” You were downright cheery over the simple fact that he wanted to see you again. To see you at all.

I’m just hurting her. I can’t. I won’t.

“You...know I’ve been busy but y-yes I could maybe go to another concert with you. So quit making a big deal out of it.”

Goddamn it Kid what the hell?! I can’t go to a concert with her! Why the hell am I lying? He ground his teeth together. Trying to let out an exasperated yet silent sigh. His eyes slowly became foggy as he drove. Though he couldn’t tell if it was out of guilt or because you lit up the second he mentioned seeing you again.

Is she really...that desperate to see me?

“Well, I’m glad because I don’t think I could live without ya. I’ve been hanging out with a bunch of nobodies in your absence. But clearly I’ve gotten really reliant on torturing you with my presence. You’re like…my favorite person in the world after all.”

No. Kid inhaled sharply through his teeth. What once was foggy now became a pool of tears in his eyes. All the muscles in his broken chest contracted. Holding himself back from letting out a wry whimper of pain.

“Oh, you’ll f-find somebody.” Kid couldn’t help but stutter as he spoke. His voice surprisingly normal but his breath hitching uncontrollably. Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand as he shook it off. Hoping and praying you were too drunk to notice through the phone.

“But that somebody wouldn’t be you and I want to be with you.”

You sounded so innocent. So pure and unfiltered as you spoke. As if you meant that from the bottom of your heart. That honesty you held was something only you could do. Kid wanted to be mean. Kid wanted to give you a reason to hate him. But he never could.

He was terminally unsuccessful and it was killing him on the inside. So once again silence was in only answer.

“Kid...when you get here will you give me a big hug? I’m shivering and I don’t know what to do about it.” You broke through that silence again. Wondering why he seemed to hate it when you praised him.

Does he…really hate it that I care about him so much? You sniffled softly through your nose. A creeping wetness in your eyes from either the breeze or something much more delicate. Your soft eyes fluttering between the forest and the low light of your phone. You hadn’t necessarily noticed the pain Kid was in. Far too worried about the silence that he kept creating between you too. As if you were annoying him once again.

Does he…hate me?

Kid could tell that he upset you. All that joy you had was seemingly sucked right out of you. His crying stalled into just a complete exhaustion. Mind wandering to anywhere else but here. “Do...Do some jumping jacks or whatever I don’t know. I’m not going to be there until a bit so just…” He trailed off, checking the time on his dash. It was taking him a bit longer than he thought to get there. No matter how fast he went it didn’t seem fast enough. His eyes caught the passing by 45 mph signs in his headlamps. But of course, he wasn’t going to follow it.

If I hit a deer, I hit a deer. If I get pulled over, I get pulled over. But I’m not stopping till I get to her. That thought pushed him forward, forcing himself to focus on something else other than the pain in his heart.

“But if I do jumping jacks I might barf. You won’t hug me if I smell like barf. I need to be in peak hugging condition.” Your voice came out in a whiny complaint. Your limbs becoming noticeably more and more numb. The huddling not doing much as the wind started to pick up until it howled ominously. You closed your eyes softly for a moment, feeling a bout of sleepiness on you. A wet dampness seeped into your clothes as you felt a bone-rattling chill crawl inside your chest.

“I’ll still fucking hug you. I’ll probably have to carry your clumsy ass back to the car anyways. So if you’re going to barf do it before I get there.” Kids annoyance was only a mask for his worry. He could tell you were getting tired. He could tell he didn’t have much time left.

What…what happens if I don’t make it in time? It was cold. No snow on the ground but winter regardless. A warmer day followed by a crippling cold night.

“What if I get barf in my hair though? I need someone to hold it up.”

A vision of you shivering with blue-tinted skin, chapped lips stinging from the pile of barf next to you, and tears slipping past your eyes came to Kid's mind. He felt his heart lunge so much he coughed spastically. Rubbing over the skin above his heart and lungs before he spoke.

“Y/N…just please don’t barf and please stay warm. I’ll be there soon.” His voice was weak but reassuring. A testament to his utter desperation and hope that this would end well.

He pressed down on the gas even harder. Pushing his car to its limits as he sped down the bumpy road.

Nothing was going to stop him from saving you. Not his stupid feelings and not any other distraction that might come his way.

A rather large drop of slushy water smacked into his windshield. Followed by a distant but bright strike of lightning splitting the sky.

His eyes flickered between the fading light and yet another splash of water hitting the glass. His blood going cold as the loud rumbling of thunder echoed in his ears.

Oh no.

A/N: Okay so I realize that the whole ‘Kid being a mechanic and also doing bad things and worrying about y/n’s safety’ has been done many times before. I love that shit and I eat it up everytime. But this is my take on it and though it’s only a small sliver of their story, I hope it holds just as many emotions. I think there is only going to be one or maybe 2 more chapters after this? It really depends on how much I write in the next go but either way SHIT IS HITTING THE FAN. It’s going to get worse and then downright despicable. I apologize in advance.

#one piece #eustass kid #eustasscaptainkid #one piece eustass #kid pirates #one piece x reader #x reader #eustass kid x reader #real world au #angst #angst be upon ye #alternate universe

[factual-fantasy]

22 asks!! :DD 💖💀🎉💖

@bunny-coffee

@elegysonnet

AAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! AND YOOOO IM DEVOURING THIS IDEA FRFR-

There's so much sadness! So much angst! AND JEVIL COMFORTING FRISK BY MAKING HER LAUGH?? PERFECT!!!

Now I may be not able to apply this idea word for word.. but I LOVE so much about it! Would you mind if I yoinked some of this? Its great!! :DD

:DD Happy new year!🎉🥳🎉 And thank YOU for sending me a kind message! I endlessly appreciate it 💖💖

@bunny-coffee

:00 Really? Thank you!! :DD I was actually pretty unsure of that detail for Jevil.. Making him round and squishy kind'a made him look too young to me.. but I'm so glad you like it! Maybe his squishiness isn't so bad! :D

:DDD Happy new year!! 💖🎉🥳🎉💖

XD Its been a while since I watched the movie. But I think my reaction was something along the lines of:

"..oh?.... OH..?.... OH YOOOOO---" *excited for angst noises XDD*

Thank you!! :DD As for his knuckle scars, there isn't really one specific way he got them. It just shows that he's rough and tough. He's been through a lot and has been on many dangerous missions.

You know, scraping his hands on rocks, dealing with sharp teethed and dangerous creatures every day.. Your hands would naturally get beat up a lot of you lived like Kwazii.

Aww! How fun! I'm sure Foxy wouldn't mind the company! :}

Foxy: "Oh? Are you a new animatronic?"

Calico Jack: "BIG TALKIN ROBOT-"

Now usually I would say Calico Jack. And its probably still true.. but considering how I'm trying to structure my Octonauts AU.. Inkling might actually be the one who's studied up more on folk tales and mythologies.. 👀

@rockbott0m47 (huh.. in all my days I don't think I've ever received a question like this XDD)

I try to be as factual as possible.. but in all honesty, my factual stops where the lazy begins-

XDD You're welcome?? Ah- Sorry for your loss?? XD I'm not sure how you feel about this realization but none the less thank you! I'm so glad you've liked my artwork! :DD

@nevereatingpeas

:DD THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! I'm so glad you like my deign!! :}}💖

AAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! 😭😭💖💖💖

(Post in question)

WAAAAAHGG THANB YIU SO MCUH!!! ITS SO COOL TO ME THAT YOU SAW ALL THOSE DETAILS!!

Yes exactly! Shellington's "VEGGIE DAD" shirt, Kwazii's bent whiskers and scars.. AND YES YES! THE CAPTAIN IN FULL UNIFORM!! I was thinking that he is an early riser and was up before everyone else was. He's not intending to eat later- he's just already had breakfast! :0

AND YES!! The meals were all correct but one <XD google says that sea otters eat crab. So I googled "crab meat meal" and drew one of the things that came up. It might be a salad thing..? Or a crab pasta thingy.?? Not sure <XDD But MAN the potatoes would have been a good idea too-

One detail that I was fond of was the steam coming from everyone's cups. Though Peso and Barnacles have no steam, because they're drinking cold drinks! You get it?? Becuase they are cold creatures?? Don't like warm things??? I'm so smart 🤣

@itschrisboys

YOOOO THIS IS A REALLY SOLID IDEA!! She could have the guilt of having killed everyone, while also trying to give everyone their happy ending.. Cool! Would you mind if I used this idea? Or at least part of it? Its really neat! :00

@britneyt

:DD Thank you! I'm glad you like that design detail of his XDD

Also thank you again! Happy new year!! 🎉🥳🎉

@beryl-shade

XD My first thought was Glamrock Freddy; "HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO HIDE YOU NOW GREGORY??"

I do! I'll have to draw them sometime-

@tallchest13-blog

Thank you! I'm so glad! :DDD

@natewithacake

:DD Thank you so much!! I'm glad you like the designs I've given them! :}}}

#my response #octonauts #undertale #deltarune #fnaf security breach

[sammy-writes-sometimes]

Word Count: 773

---------

"So… were you born or made?" Skizz asks slowly.

Bdubs can't stop himself from laughing. "That's definitely a question to ask on your second date."

"Third date if you count, ya know." It makes a motion with its hand and finger, the lewd implications bringing Bdubs back to them in a clearing against a rocky slope.

"So was every affirmation you gave a date?" Bdubs asks playfully as they roll on their side, grass curling underneath them.

"You're avoiding the question, Dubs." Skizz giggles.

"Yeah, yeah, but why do you even want to know?"

"Curiosity, and I wanna see if I'm right."

The dryad huffs, moving to trace a hand over the angel's cheek.

"I was born from a leaf, happy?" They take a lighthearted tone, no true heat behind the hostile words.

"So I was right." Skizz smiles. "You seemed like the type, but– sorry, I'm getting too invasive if I ask that."

The angel wraps a wing around them. "I know their original spawns are important for most nature spirits and have to be hidden."

"It's fine…" He murmurs. "It's– well it's complicated. My birth server is closed off now, me n' my brother can return when we want, but it's not like I want to…"

Skizz smiles as it kisses his cheek. Soft and gentle, but endlessly warm.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

He hums, stopping for a moment to listen to the purr under his ear. Well, it's less of a purr and more something bird-like somehow, caught somewhere between a tiger's chuff and a songbird's trill.

"Since you already got to ask me; where did you come from? You're the only angel I've ever met and it's– I'm nosey and curious, I'd love to learn."

There's a brightness behind Skizz's eyes, barely hidden joy as he smiles.

"Do you know anything about how angels work?"

"Other than how you work down there, no."

Skizz laughs, a boisterous sort of thing as its chest shakes and rattles.

"What? It's true!" Bdubs yelps.

"True but–" It barely manages to get out. "It made me think how good you look under me, I got distracted!"

"Just answer the question, stupid."

"Okay, fine, I'm on it. Just don't complain when I keep you here for hours."

Despite the sun and the smaller worry he'd get burned, or the idea they'd be there until mobs start spawning, Bdubs can't find it in himself to be upset with that. The angel's wings, pristine and white, always looked beautiful during the day, but the idea of getting to see it at dusk almost felt dizzying.

"Deal."

Those wings shift, Skizz stretching out his arm and spreading his fingers.

"So gods, right? Those things above us all? They're real, kinda, but they need helpers so they made angels and demons." It then laughs. "Don't believe some stories, by the way. Demons aren't inherently or instinctually evil, they just sound big n' angry from living in the nether."

"How did demons get there?"

"No clue, but there's a bunch of stories and legends about what might've happened." Skizz nudges Bdubs closer to it, chuffing as it kisses him again. "But that's not really what we're here for. Maybe ask Impulse or Tango later, I'm sure they have their own legends.

"But with the gods thing, each has their own meaning and reason. You have gods of life, death, love, war, so on."

"And you?" Bdubs asks almost cautiously.

"It– it's kinda confusing to explain, but they're a god of the hearth."

"God of the what?"

"Hearth." It says as it laughs. "She's– they're kind of a protective god and a storyteller."

He brushes his hand over Skizz's cheek again, stubble scratchy under his palm. "Sometimes I forget you're something holy and important."

"I'm really not, just another guard and sorta follower of a god no one really talks about."

Bdubs moves to lay on Skizz, one hand resting on his cheek while the other lays on the angel's chest.

"I know you're already going to, but I'd love to hear more." Bdubs says softly. "About your life, this god you follow."

"I don't really follow her, angel's don't always have to." It laughs, then its feathers puff out. "Oh, do you want to hear about when I first met Dipple?"

He doesn't stop his partner, there's really no way he can as the day passes. A dulled chuff-trill under his cheek, laughter and smiles, the sunset dancing across hair and skin and reverberating off of snowy white feathers.

Neither of them really notice, trapped in story after story after story.

---------

Our ko-fi

#apr 10 2024 #written: nov 11-12 2023 #bdubs #skizz #hermitshipping #skizzdubs #our writing #hc #mcyt

[barry-j-blupjeans]

#50 Taakitz

50. “It's okay, I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

--

Kravitz was a liar. Not on purpose! Never on purpose, because when he tried to do that, it always turned out horribly. No, any lie that Kravitz had ever told was on accident. He just- couldn't stop doing them. After all, he had spent the last several hundred years going undercover for cases and that had gotten him comfortable with the concept of a lie. Even if he could make a convincing one by itself, his Charm Person work had gotten much smoother over the years.

But. But- Kravitz was a liar. Not a big lie, and not an important one, but one he sorely wished he hadn't said.

"Of course, I sleep," past Kravitz had said. "Why wouldn't I sleep?"

Because you have no functioning body systems, genius. And now he got to spend even less time with Taako because he had to go "sleep". Like a mortal. Ugh.

The Raven Queen had been endlessly amused by his struggles, which She always was. So instead of sending Kravitz on missions to make use of his valuable time, She sent him to his sad little apartment off the east wing of Her castle and told him to go take a nap. Kravitz very distinctly felt like he was being put in time out, like a self-deprived toddler, or a disobident dog going back into his crate.

It felt like it had been hours. Kravitz didn't know. Clocks didn't exactly work in the Astral Plane the same way they did in the Prime Material Plane. But at long last, something interrupted the silence of his empty bedroom. From his pocket- yes, he was napping with his suit on, so what??- his Stone of Farspeech started to ring. Kravitz was answering it before it even had time to ring a second time.

"Taako!" he said.

"Heyyyy," Taako said. His voice crackled a bit over the line. "You, uh, doing anything right now?" Kravitz opened his mouth to respond, but Taako cut him off with- "fuck. You said you were gonna sleep, weren't you? That's- that's my mistake, I'll leave you to-"

"It's okay," Kravitz said before he could stop himself. Lies, lies, lies. All reapers did was eat hot chips, kiss cute boys, and lie. "I couldn't sleep anyway."

"Oh," Taako said. He sounded a bit... off. Like he had a cold, or he had been crying. A selfish part of Kravitz hoped it was the latter because he didn't know how to deal with colds. "Well, uhm. I can leave you to that-"

"No," Kravitz said, sitting up in bed. "No, I- what do you need?"

"I was just like, wondering if you wanted to- to come over." There was a pause. If Kravitz's heart could beat, it would be going very fast right now. "Not like- not like a hookup, just, y'know, to hang out. And stuff."

"I can come over," Kravitz said, a little too eager.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Kravitz said. "Let me- let me get ready-" As if he wasn't already ready. God, he needed to stop lying. "And I'll be over in a few minutes. Can I portal into your room?"

"Yeah," Taako said, a bit more warmly. "Yeah, that'd be great."

"I'll see you in a few," Kravitz said.

"See ya," Taako said. The Stone flicked off. Kravitz carefully set it down on his bed before kicking his feet a little in delight. Taako wanted to see him again!! He had been a little worried because Taako had seemed rather down when he left last time, but he wanted Kravitz to come back!! He liked him!! Kravitz hadn't had anyone like him in- in, well, an embarrassingly long time. He had to stop himself from doing a little dance around his room.

(Okay, no, he did do a tiny dance on the way to his mirror so he could make himself look presentable. But no one had to know that.)

Kravitz waited what, again, felt like hours, but he counted to sixty three times in his head. As he got out his scythe, the presence of the Raven Queen filled his room and he worried, just for a moment, that She'd actually make him take a nap.

Instead, a raven from part of her flock appeared in a puff of black smoke on his bed. The raven flew up to his shoulder, something shiny between its beak. When Kravitz held out a hand for it, the raven deposited a shiny earring on his palm. The raven opened its beak again and the Raven Queen's voice boomed out,

"TO MAKE YOU LOOK PRESENTABLE, CHILD."

Part of Kravitz was mortified. The other part, the far bigger part, removed his current earring stud with shaking hands and put the new one on. He looked at himself in the mirror again- it did make him look rather charming.

"HAVE FUN ON YOUR DATE," the Raven Queen said.

Kravitz cut a portal into Taako's room before he could feel too embarrassed about that one.

#taakitz #taako #kravitz #the raven queen #taz #taz balance #mine #ise cube writing #asks #anon #:D!!

[sugarrfrog]

THE RED STRING | CHAPTER 1: A DEAL IN DEATH | AO3 Link

Ch.2 Ch.3 Pairing: Hyuuga Neji x OC Wordcount: 4.76k CW: Non-graphic death mention Story Synopsis: Making a bargain with Death wasn't exactly the first item on her list of to-dos today. Then again, neither was dying.

When a young girl finds herself desperate to argue her fate with the King of the Underworld himself, he offers her a deal: She will be reborn in a different world, but she must prove her convictions to alter destiny by saving the life of the one called Hyuuga Neji, whose premature death is set in stone. If she succeeds, she'll be allowed to live her second life to its fullest. But if she fails, she'll die along with him and suffer eternal punishment in the courts of Hell.

I’d been tumbling down the cliffside just moments ago. 

My hands were grasping at the raindrops pelting the air in a desperate attempt to stop or slow my descent. The trees below had rushed up to meet me, their branches clawing at the air like desperate fingers. I couldn’t see my friends’ faces anymore; just the edges of the sky blurring together like faded watercolor. 

We were just stupid kids. It was supposed to be a silly 10-minute escapade before we hopped back on our bikes and hurried back home. Christa, who I’d been friends with since we were in diapers, said this trail was supposed to have the best view of the whole valley. So here we were, tip-toeing past the “No Trespassing” signs in the woods behind our neighborhood. What a horrific nightmare this had become.

But I didn’t scream. I’m not sure why.

I’d squeezed my eyes shut so hard my vision turned white, the wind whipping at my face and throat and the storm roaring in my ears. Would I die right away? How much would I feel? What would it feel like… to not be able to say goodbye? 

But then, just as suddenly as the fall had begun, it ended. The second I open my eyes, my heart thunders in my chest and I gasp for air, my lungs burning with the effort. I find myself in a dimly lit cave, my body aching but somehow still intact. Confusion and fear gnaw at my insides as I struggle to sit up and take in my surroundings. 

No torrential downpour of rain, no howling wind, no gray clouds overhead or tree branches swaying in the storm. Instead, the cave is quiet and still, with the only sound being the steady drip of water echoing off the walls. Fiery torches in rusted metal brackets are scattered about the area, the flickering flames carving shadows into the rocks and illuminating the dust particles suspended in the air. 

I take in a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. Am I … hallucinating? But the thought doesn’t bring much more comfort as I slowly pull myself to my feet. My hand instinctively reaches for my pocket, where I keep my phone, but my fingers close around nothing. Big surprise when I’ve just fallen off a cliff, I suppose. 

I start to walk forward, my steps cautious as I take in my surroundings. The cave seems to go on endlessly, the torches spaced just far enough apart to illuminate my path but leaving the rest of the space shrouded in darkness. Strange markings are etched into the walls, and they seem to multiply the further into the cave I walk. They’re symbols that I don't recognize. The air feels thick and heavy, as though something otherworldly is at play here. Goosebumps begin to prick my skin, and I rub at my arms as I try to shake the feeling away. 

In fact… The further I go, the more the cave seems to shift and change around me, like it's alive and adapting to my movements. It's as if the cave itself is leading me somewhere.

How long has it been? Ten minutes? An hour? Soreness begins to creep into the balls of my feet, my breathing turning more labored. I have to get out of here soon, or I’ll…

The thought trails off as a giant, looming shape seems to spring up out of the darkness. My body tenses. A gnarled wooden gate, at least 10 feet tall, emerges from the shadows as I walk closer. It looks like it used to be painted blue, but the paint has been chipped away over time and revealed the contorted wood underneath.

I pause, my heart pounding in my chest. Something tells me that if I walk through that gate… I won’t be coming back. 

"Hello there, dearie,” a voice calls out. My body jerks upright with a gasp. “Don’t be afraid. I’ve been expecting you.” 

The voice has the lilt of an elderly woman, and it echoes through the cavern, bouncing off the walls and filling the space. I frown, taking a tentative step backward. 

The voice is coming from behind the gate.

“Come now, my child,” the voice says again. “You’re lost and tired, aren’t you? I have something here that will do just the trick.” 

I swallow hard, my legs wobbling slightly as I carefully step forward. I lean forward and peer through the gaps in the wood. I can just make out the silhouette of a figure, hunched over in the dim light. The figure looks up and smiles at me, expression warm and inviting. 

"Don't be shy," she says, motioning for me to come closer. "I won't bite."

Taking a deep breath I push the gate open, and the wood groans loudly under my weight. Despite its massive size, it moves easily, brushing up a layer of dust as the woman on the other side of the door is revealed. 

A simple, thick robe seems to swallow her small figure, with white hair tied neatly into a bun atop her head. Every curve of her face is etched with wrinkles. But despite her age, there's a sense of strength emanating from her.

For a moment, we stand there in silence. I can feel her eyes on me, taking in my every move. The air is tense, but I can't help but feel a sense of awe at her presence. She's not just a woman - she's a force to be reckoned with.

“There now,” she says, the folds in her face gathering as she offers up a knowing smile. “That’s better. You must be hungry after walking all this way.” She beckons me closer, motioning me to a small clearing of rock. “ Come. I have something that will help you.” 

A heavy brass cauldron stands rooted in the middle of the ground, filled nearly to the brim with golden broth that spreads a thick aroma of herbs and spices through the space. But strangely enough, that’s not the oddest sight here. 

Just beyond where we stand, a gaping chasm yawns open in the ground, as if the earth had been ripped apart by some colossal force. A massive stone bridge stretches across the expanse, leading to the other side of the cavernous abyss. The walls of the cave tower above, their jagged edges disappearing into darkness. And instead of the cave ceiling… there are stars. But as I look up, something seems off. The stars are too vivid, too colorful. It's not the regular night sky, and the unsettling feeling it brings makes me uneasy.

The woman doesn't seem bothered by it in the slightest, as if it's just another part of the scenery.

"Sit, sit," she says, gesturing towards a small wooden stool beside the cauldron. "Don't be afraid. I've given this to many travelers before you."

I hesitate for a moment, eyeing the chasm warily, but the aroma of the brew is too enticing to resist. Gingerly, I make my way over to the stool and settle down, my hands shaking slightly as I reach out for the bowl she hands me. The rim and body of the cauldron are caked with brown spots of dried liquid, but the bowl seems clean, painted with delicate flower designs that swim as she fills it with golden liquid.

I can't bring myself to drink it, though- not while the woman is watching me so intently. 

"Who are you?" I manage to ask instead. "And where am I?"

"Ah, those are the questions, aren't they?" she says. "You, my child, are in the realm of the Underworld. Your soul is being brought here to rest.”

My heart thumps in my ears as her words register. “I-I’m sorry, what?” 

The woman leans in closer, her eyes softening. “You have passed on, my dear. You are no longer in the world of the living.”

I feel my breath catch in my throat, my mind reeling with disbelief. This can't be real. It has to be some kind of hallucination, a nightmare I'll wake up from any moment now.

But the woman's gaze is unwavering, and I can feel the weight of her words settling in my chest.

The woman points a knobbed finger to the bridge. "Once you cross," she continues, "Our Good Lord Yama will judge your soul. He will determine whether you are reincarnated, or whether you will stay here in the Underworld to rest." She places a hand on my shoulder, but I barely register it. "Don’t worry, dearie. Once you drink that soup in your hands, you'll begin feeling a lot better." 

Her words bring me no comfort. I feel a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead, my heart racing faster with every passing second.

"How do I get out of here?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

The woman's expression turns solemn as she replies, "That is up to Lord Yama to decide. For now, please drink. Once you've tasted the broth, the memories of your past life will disappear. You will feel no pain, no fear, and no regret. Only peace."

I stare down at the steaming cauldron, the pungent scent of the herbs and spices almost overwhelming. I can feel the warmth emanating from the soup, but something about it makes my stomach twist itself in knots.

"I...I don't know if I can," I murmur, my voice shaking. "I don't want to forget."

The woman's gaze softens once more. "I understand, my child," she says. "But the soul cannot rest until it has forgotten."

I take a deep breath in, and out. No , I think. This can't be it. This… this can't be all there is! 

The woman’s smile darkens slightly, and she gives me a sharper look. “Drink. I cannot allow you to move forward until you do so.” 

My hands tighten around the edge of the bowl, my jaw clenching. “No.”

The woman's expression turns stern as she looks at me. "I understand your reluctance, but this is the way it must be. You cannot move forward until you have drunk the soup."

I shake my head. "I don't believe you," I say. "I don't believe any of this."

The woman's eyes narrow, and her grip on my shoulder tightens. "You cannot understand until you have let go," she says. "Until you have surrendered to the process. You must trust that this is the way it must be."

"I don't trust you," I say, my voice growing stronger. "I don't even know who you are!"

"I am a guide," the woman says. "I am here to help you move on."

"I don't want your help!" I say, pulling away from her. 

“Drink!” 

“I said, no !” I lift the bowl over my head, swinging it down to the rocky cave floor below. The porcelain bowl shatters into a million shards as golden broth seeps into the cracks of the rock. 

The woman shrieks, her hands reaching down to the broken pieces as if willing them to magically fit back together. “You insolent child!" she hisses. "You will regret this!"

But I don't stay to find out what she means. I stand quickly, the stool beneath me clattering to its side. 

Then I run. * * *

I turn and sprint towards the bridge, my heart pounding in my chest. I can hear the woman's enraged screams echoing behind me, but I push on, my legs carrying me forward. The cave’s uneven ground turns to smooth stone under my feet as the solid bridge carries me to somewhere I can’t see. “This is stupid, this is stupid…” I mutter to myself my limbs thrumming with adrenaline as my sneakers smack against the ground. “This is literally the stupidest thing I’ve ever done!” 

And then I remember I’ve done things that have actually killed me today, so, maybe not. 

The sounds of the old woman’s shrieking are disappearing into nothing, giving me hope that I’ve seen the last of her. But even if that’s true, I don’t feel any better about my situation.

How exactly does one escape the realm of the dead?

I continue running, pumping my legs as hard as I can, fists so tight my nails dig into my palms. My hair flies out behind me as the other end of the chasm comes into view. It’s another dark, ominous cave entrance.

I stumble to a halt at the opening, catching my breath as I peer inside. It takes me a moment to register what I'm looking at. 

A long line of people stretches further than I can see, filled with every sort of creature imaginable. There are humans and animals, angels and demons, and everything in between. Some are dressed in fine clothes, while others wear tattered rags. They all stand, waiting for something, Some are talking to each other, while others are content to keep to their own thoughts.

“Hey you, girl. You okay?”

I blink, turning to face a man and woman standing in line who are looking at me with pity in their eyes. They look… tired, yet strangely peaceful, giving me warm smiles that clash against all the cold darkness I’ve faced so far. 

“I-I, uh..” I stutter, looking around and scratching my head. “I… think so? What’s going on here?”

The woman smiles wider, tilting her head. “We’re waiting to meet with His Majesty Lord Yama,” she says. “Are you alone? Why don’t you hop in line with us?” 

I crane my neck, trying to get a better look at the line. I squint hard, but I still can’t see the end of this long ribbon of bodies no matter how hard I try. “How long is this thing? How long would that even take?” 

The man shrugs, looking around at the waiting masses like he hadn’t considered it. “Probably a few years, if I had to guess.” 

I feel my stomach drop as the color drains from my face. “A few years ?” I repeat dumbly, gaping. “You’re kidding, right?” 

“Why,” an old, potbellied man behind them snickers, “you got somewhere else to be, kid?” 

A few of the line occupants within earshot laugh loudly, making me bristle. My cheeks flush with embarrassment and frustration, and I shake my head to clear it away.

Wherever this place is, whatever system they’re running here… I don’t want it. I’m not going to let them take my life from me and herd me into some weird corner of the Underworld like a lost lamb. Maybe that works for others, but not for me. 

I clench and unclench my hands, looking out over the endless string of figures. “Well,” I mutter to myself, “I’ve already made several bad decisions today, may as well keep the streak going.” 

The potbellied guy scowls. “What’s that s’pposed to mean?” 

Instead of answering, I dig the heels of my sneakers into the ground. And once again, I’m barreling through the unknown terrain. Except this time, thousands of people’s faces whisk by as I run, their expressions ranging from bored to surprised to outright angry. I hear some of them yell at me, but I ignore them. 

But now I have another problem. I’m not in nearly good enough shape for this. My lungs burn and my breathing turns ragged in my throat, but I try to push myself forward. I stumble to leap over the lap of someone who has decided to sit on the ground to wait instead of stand. 

“You there! HALT!” 

I whip my head around to catch a glimpse of what is behind me, but instantly wish I hadn’t. Giving chase are towering, sinewy, hellish beings with their skin stretched tight over their bones, glaring at me with anger in their eyes. Their elongated spears, thick and sturdy, are poised and ready to impale whatever they hit first. They’re much faster than I am, and their weighty footsteps echo like ominous drumbeats as they pursue me. A surge of terror floods my veins, but I compel myself to continue running.

My heart pounds in my chest as I quickly sidestep and weave through the throngs of waiting people, bobbing and weaving to avoid colliding with them. The demonic creatures behind me are quickly gaining on me, their guttural growls intensifying with each passing second. “You've been commanded to halt!” One of them says again, his voice gravelly and almost painful to listen to. 

I freeze as a small child wanders out of line and into my path, causing me to lose my balance and fall to the ground. Immediately the demons’ claws dig into my shoulders, and I let out a yelp. I struggle to regain my footing as they haul me up, their grip tight and unyielding. "Finally," one of them mutters, "Crazy brat."  

“Let me go,” I mumble weakly, hanging my head. I know just asking them to drop me is pointless, but desperation forces me to give it a shot. The demonic creatures snort at my pitiful attempt, their grip on me unrelenting as they continue to drag me away. The tips of my shoes bounce against the uneven rock floor. * * *

Despite the terrifying looks of his minions, the imposing Lord Yama appears rather... bland. Glossy, intricate bloodwood arches encircle a raised platform, upon which is perched a smooth ivory desk and chair. Lord Yama, a rotund little man in a black robe with ruddy skin and bulging eyes, shifts his attention back and forth between two advisors standing nearby as they present him with notes.

The advisors... I shudder, making every effort to avert my gaze from the two men flanking him. Don't stare, I chant to myself, pretending to be fascinated by the floor. Don't stare!

The two men are perfectly normal, tall and fit, wearing simple red tunics and trousers. That would all be fine, except for their freaking animal heads - one with the head of an ox, and the other of a horse. The man with the horse head seems engrossed in scribbling something into a thick, well-worn book like this is an ordinary Tuesday. 

“My Lord!” One of the demons calls out, shoving me down to my knees. My shins sting with fresh cuts as I turn back in an attempt to glare at him. “I’ve brought her. The little brat who’s been causing a ruckus.” 

“ You’ve brought her?” the other scoffs.

“Shut up.” 

“Thank you, men.” The air seems to buzz with tension as Lord Yama’s voice booms out, halting the argument as soon as it starts. I watch in trepidation as he stands from his desk, his long beard swaying as he makes his way toward us. Something about his expression sends chills down my spine. “You’ve done well at finding her, however…” he raises an eyebrow inquisitively. “Remind me, what exactly has she done?”

My heart drops to the pit of my stomach as the demons pause, seemingly at a loss for words. “She.. well... She destroyed Meng Po’s vessel for the Soul Beguiling Soup, and crossed the Bridge of Forgetfulness without drinking it.”

Lord Yama folds his hands over his belly, raising an eyebrow. “Yes. And then?” 

The two lackeys behind me stutter, unsure where he’s going with this. “Th-Then.. and then she tried to s-skip the line, my Lord. She’s been wreaking chaos  since the first moment she came here.” 

Lord Yama strokes his beard thoughtfully, the sound of his hums echoing in the quiet room. The tension seems to grow thicker as we wait for his response. “That’s right,” he says finally, his gaze fixed on me. “She attempted to avoid waiting in line. How kind of you to aid her in her objective by escorting her here yourselves. Fools.”

Both monsters behind me are silent. I have to bite my lip hard to keep myself from laughing. Nyeh-nyeh, losers.  

But the giggles die in my throat as Lord Yama's beady eyes flicker over to me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. I feel like a mouse under a hawk's gaze.

"So," he says slowly, "you are the troublemaker who has been disrupting the order of things in my realm. Tell me, child, what do you have to say for yourself?"

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. My throat feels dry, and I can feel the lump in my stomach growing bigger by the second. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

"U-um, sir," I manage to say, my voice trembling. "I wasn’t trying to cause any trouble. I was just trying to find my way back home." I pause. “Sir,” I add again, just for good measure.

Lord Yama seems to read my thoughts, and he nods knowingly.  "And how do you plan on doing that now that you are here, in the afterlife?"

I wince as one of the demons digs his claws into my shoulder deeper. “I… didn’t exactly think that far ahead.” 

Lord Yama chuckles, a deep and menacing sound that makes my skin crawl. “You’re entertaining, young one. I haven’t been so delighted by someone in thousands of years.” He leans over, bending to meet my eye level from where I kneel on the floor. “However, I understand. You’re young, and your death was sudden. It must be challenging facing all this alone.” 

I suck in a deep breath, my heart thumping erratically in my chest. “Let me go, please. I don’t want to die yet.” 

Lord Yama straightens up, his eyes glittering with amusement. "Oh, my dear. You've already died. There's no going back from that." His words hit me like a ton of bricks, and I feel the weight of the situation crashing down on me. The reality of my death sinks in, and I can feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

My tears drip onto the floor as my vision begins to blur. “I can't just let it end like this.” 

Lord Yama smiles haughtily. “Fate is a terrible, cruel thing, child. Even the world’s strongest warriors cannot fight the crushing blow of their own destiny.” 

“I don’t believe that!” I kneel upright, and the demons wrestle me back down to a hunch.

Lord Yama's smile fades, replaced with a glint of annoyance in his eyes. "Believe what you will, but it does not change the truth. Death comes for all, and there is nothing you can do to escape it."

The demons behind me tighten their grip on my arms, making me wince in pain. I can feel my anger bubbling up inside me, mixing with my fear and despair. "You're wrong!" I shout, my voice echoing off the walls and columns. "There has to be a way out of here. There has to be a way to go back."

Lord Yama shakes his head, his eyes hardening. "I'm afraid not, child. Your fate is sealed."

I struggle against the demons, desperation coursing through my veins. "Please," I plead, "there has to be something I can do. Anything."

Lord Yama regards me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “For your level of insolence, I should have you banished to the courts of Hell for eternity.” 

My jaw tightens, the tension in the air growing thicker as we wait for him to continue.

“But the more I talk to you, the more amusing you become.” I swallow hard, unsure of what to make of his sudden change in demeanor. "What do you mean?" I ask cautiously.

A faint smile plays at the corners of Lord Yama’s mouth. "You have spirit, child. I can see it in your eyes.” He walks back towards the platform, nodding to himself. With a flick of his wrist, he signals to Mr. Ox-Head, who scurries off to some unknown destination. “I’m prepared to offer you a deal. An experiment of sorts.”

I shift uneasily, not quite sure how to respond. "Sir?"

He chuckles darkly, his eyes alight with amusement. "Your thoughts on destiny and fate are quite rigid, are they not? Why don’t we put it to the test?” 

Before I can respond, the guards suddenly release me, and I tumble to the ground in a heap. I scramble to my feet, my body sore and bruised from the demons' assault. I rub my shoulders slowly where their claws have ripped holes in my clothing as they slink off to do other things. 

As I stagger towards the platform, Mr. Ox-Head returns, carrying an ornate urn that gleams in the dim torch light. He places it on the edge of Lord Yama's desk with a soft thud, and sets a small scroll beside it.

My wide eyes follow him for a moment- a freaking ox head, how on earth is that even anatomically possible ?!- but I shake my head and force myself to re-focus. “What do you want me to do?” 

Lord Yama beckons me closer, his fingers closing around the scroll. "It is quite simple in concept," he murmurs, his voice sickeningly sweet with a patronizing edge. "You must change the fate of one who has been condemned to an unalterable destiny."

I stare at Lord Yama, my mind struggling to process his words. "Change someone's fate?" I echo slowly, unconvinced. "How am I supposed to do that?"

He raises the scroll in the air, the pattern outside it a rich green etched with blocky golden designs. “In my hand, I hold the image of a young man slated to die a tragically premature death in the autumn of his eighteenth year." 

Lord Yama hands the scroll out to me, the smooth texture of the paper sliding into my hand. “He lives in a very different world from your own,” he continues. “But you crave life. Very well- I’ll have you reborn there yourself. Shall he live past his eighteenth year, I’ll let you live the rest of your second life there in peace.” His look darkens. “Fail, and you’ll be brought back to me at the time his fate is sealed. You’ll suffer eternal torture in the courts of Hell, and justice will finally be satisfied.” 

I frown and hesitate for a moment as I break the seal of the scroll, the weight of his words washing over me. The thought of being sent to another world is daunting enough, but to be tasked with changing the whole life’s course of someone I don’t know? It seems impossible. With as much mental strength as I can muster, I unfurl the scroll to get a look at whoever this mysterious stranger is. 

My breath catches in my throat as the image of this person meets my eyes. He’s more beautiful than I expected, nearly ethereal, with pale, porcelain skin and thin but soft, rounded features. Over his forehead is some sort of metal-plated headpiece I don’t recognize. Long, dark hair drapes over his shoulders and down his back, not a strand out of place.

However, his eyes are his most striking feature by far. They’re an otherworldly, glassy white, tinged with a hint of shimmering lavender that seems to pierce through the page. They bring an air of regality and mystery to his whole expression, seeming to look right into the very soul. 

“Is he blind?” I ask in a hushed tone, tearing my eyes away from the image.

Lord Yama lets out a vicious cackle. “Quite the opposite,” he replies, but doesn’t elaborate on that any further. “This is the one called Hyuuga Neji, a prodigious member of a powerful clan whose story yields an unfortunate ending. He is the one you must save.”

My heart races in my chest, a tremor of fear coursing through my veins. What could I possibly do to change the course of fate for someone like this?

As if sensing my apprehension, Lord Yama stands up and reaches for the heavy-looking urn sitting on his desk. 

"What's in there?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

I watch as he approaches me, stopping uncomfortably close with a smile. “His soul.”

I try to pull away as Lord Yama leans forward, his hot breath on my face as he presses a finger into my forehead. A tingling sensation erupts through my body, light and prickly, like a million little bubbles dancing on my skin. 

“Happy birthday to you both.”

The world around me fades away, and I fall backward into blackness.

#The Red String #Neji Hyuga #Neji x OC #oc x canon #naruto fanfiction #fanfiction #Kanna Fukui #Neji #This fic is very self indulgent don't come for me lol #hyuuga neji

[wanderlust-in-my-soul]

hi josiiii! i read this and im so overwhelmed! im so sorry for all you had to go through in toxic relationships and how those terrible terrible people treated you! you didn't deserve that, you deserve the world and more!!!!

before i share something from myself please understand i absolutely don't mean to make it about me but hope to share my experience that might give you hope! its gonna sound like bragging but please bear with me

so, when i got together with my partner (now ex), it was a few years after they had gotten out of a very toxic relationship (like the worse you can imagine, emotional manipulation, coercion and what not) so she was very hesitant to start a new relationship with me even though we knew we liked each other! i had been dealing with depression stuff as well because of my toxic household & friendships. but we found courage and decided to give it a shot! and that was the best 2 years of my life, and hers as well. i know for a fact. we had the cute innocent puppy love people dream about, very very tinngun/patpran and what not, so much so that i can see the scenes of them and think wait we did that too! it felt like a movie literally, sometimes it felt so fantasy like that it felt fake. we didn't have a single fight. not one. we trusted and loved each other so much so unconditionally and we could establish it because of near perfect communication and empathy. we broke up for reasons out of our control but it was amicable and we're still the very best of friends.

anyways, my point is that i know and i hope that you get the cute innocent puppy love with flowers and rainbows! because if it could happen for us, two people who were royally fucked up and in even worse environment, it can happen for everyone. we managed to create a safe sustainable environment for just the two of us where we could feel like it was our first love all over again, and i know you will too 💕💕💕💕

Hi Anon! Thank you so much for your words! 🤍 You have no idea how much they mean to me!

Sharing an experience can sound like you try to make it about yourself or like bragging, but I didn't get the feeling in your case, perhaps because this is also a way I try to support or help others, talk about my own experience, to show I can relate to the situation. So don't worry 😊 I totally got your point and I am endlessly thankful you shared this with me!

Your relationship really sounds beautiful, like in the movies 😊 I couldn't stop smiling reading your words. Thank you so much for sharing!

I am still on my healing-journey. Today was a big step for me and the picture I have of myself and my future. And it gave me back a little bit of my romantic hopes, if you can say so. It sounds a little bit silly, but it feels quite nice and reading your encouraging words felt really good! Thank you so much! 💙 I'll keep them in my heart and come back to them when I have a bad day! ❤💞

#josi answers #anon ask #love this so much! #Thank you from the bottom of my heart! 🤍

[thistle-whistle-ffxiv]

Fluffuary Day 4 - Making Her Laugh

Lahabrea tries to make the latest thorn in his side laugh. For science.

“Come on Thancred, pleeeeeeease?” U’rabta whined at him. He didn’t know how she had managed to corner him, nor what he should do about the way she was looking at him. Her eyes big and watery, as though she were on the verge of tears.

Lahabrea sighed. This obnoxious child was proving to be tiresome, but perhaps this would provide an opportunity for him to put his suspicions to the test. It had only been small things that had triggered it, but once the seed had been planted it had only grown. Now that it had taken root, he could not escape it.

The way she smiled, though those came far less frequently in this incarnation. Some of the things she said. Direct echoes of a woman who had been gone for eons. 

But those were only brief moments. Every other second he watched her made him sick to his stomach. This unholy perversion of that brilliant, beautiful, infuriating woman. A shattered husk that spat upon her memory.

He wanted to tear the heart from her chest with his bare hands.

“Well, who am I to refuse a request from such a charming lady?” he reluctantly agreed. Anything to get the girl to stop speaking to him, if only briefly.

The girl cheered loudly, pulling him into a rib-crushing hug before sprinting away. Lahabrea did not envy whoever had to deal with her more regularly than he did. 

It was almost two bells later that his quarry wandered through the doors, heading towards the solar. She eyed him warily as he approached.

“Ah shit. Not you too?” she groaned.

“Whatever do you mean?” He asked, a little surprised by how exasperated she was with him. He hadn’t even done anything yet.

“Everybody has been coming up to me and saying weird shit. Is this another one of your strange western holidays?”

“I see. You’ll have to forgive us.” Lahabrea found it difficult to maintain his vessel’s easy smile when she was around, “U’rabta was rather concerned about you, after everything that happened. So she tasked us with trying to cheer you.”

“She is so annoying.” Azami sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Look, you don’t have to go through the trouble. I’m fine.”

“Even so, there is something I would show you. If you’d allow it.”

“Alright?”

He produced for her something that he knew would have had Azem laughing to the point of tears. A miniature spoon, no longer than the tip of his finger. He had never claimed to understand it, but the sight of such things had amused her endlessly.

Azami stared at it for a second before letting out an undignified snort. She clamped her hands over her mouth, trying to muffle the sounds of her laughter. He couldn’t decide if he liked the sound or not. It was almost the way he remembered, close enough to make the differences grate on him all the more. A little too breathy, the pitch just a little bit off.

“What the hell?” She choked out around her giggles, “Why is it so small?”

“To eat very small soup.” he answered, only intensifying her little giggle fit.

It was hardly conclusive evidence on its own, but when added to the rest of it… 

He would have to consult with the others. Even sundered, Azem could prove a thorn in their side if not properly dealt with. 

Perhaps this time could be different. Perhaps this time she would listen to reason.

He would have to consult with the others.

#fluffuary2023 #fffxiv #fanfic #twdfc #the first one of these I've written from the perspective of somebody who isn't my oc #I don't particularly like this one #feel free to not read #my writing

[forsworned]

[♥] collegeau! to date or not to date {rengoku kyoujurou x reader}

Genre: Comedy, Slight Fluff, Slight Sensual Themes

Categories: F/M

Relationships: Renguko Kyoujorou/Reader

Word count: 2,791

a/n: continuation of unintentionally roomates which you can find here ,,requests are open

➽────────────── ────────────── ──────────── ❥ 

It had been some weeks since she had gotten used to Kyoujurou being her roommate. So far neither of them had walked in on each other naked--yet. He was pretty tidy and would call her out in a teasingly kind of way that she'd sleep with her mouth wide open which made her pretty insecure, but he insisted it was "very cute." Which didn't make it any better. He could concur that it probably wasn't a good idea to show her the picture he had taken of her (he actually would look at it when he was having a bad day or he just wanted a good laugh; he also nearly made it his homescreen but decided that was maybe a little too far).

Mid-terms would be coming up soon and Kyoujurou wanted to do something fun before all the stress would settle in from piles of homework assignments and study guides. He suggested that the both of them should go to the amusement park and [name] was more than delighted to go, but there was a small issue with this. She didn't know if it was a date or just them simply hanging out. He just brought it up so casually when they had just finished a round of Super Smash Bros. and [name] was trying her hardest not to be a flustered mess about it.

"Just ask him." Shinobu's usual singsong voice was now monotonous. She had had enough of [name]'s shit to say the least. Always inquiring about Kyoujurou since Shinobu and him had been in the same graduating high school class and friend group. Not to mention mid terms were coming up and pre-med was no joke.

[Name] visibly sulked at her friend's tone. She didn't like being a nuisance to Shinobu, even though it wasn't hard to irate her nerves, but this time she seriously needed help and Shinobu was being nothing less than unpleasant.

"Shinobuuuu," [Name] whined. "This is a big deal for me. Please give me advice and I won't bring it up ever again."

The ravenette's eyes darted to the [h/c] pleading gaze, and it was enough to make to [name] squeak. Shinobu let out a sigh before speaking.

"Fine," [name]'s expression brightened, but Shinobu's finger pressing into her forehead made it falter a little. "but you don't need to stop talking about him. Just do it a lot less. I need to focus on exams."

[Name] cheered in triumph and fist pumped into the air, which in turn made Shinobu laugh. She wanted to be there for [name] in anyway she could, just within some restrictions and limitations. Shinobu's face suddenly went gravely serious.

"So here's the game plan."

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°

[Name] took a deep breath before looking at her reflection. Her outfit was subtle yet cute. A simple blue top and beige skort to prevent panty reveals yet still have the illusion of wearing a skirt. Hair was pinned and pulled back abover her neckline since the sun would be beating down and she wanted to take every precaution to avoid any excessive sweating. Make up was light to circumvent it from melting off her face. Yes, [name] was over meticulous because she was resolute in this hang out/date to be absolutely perfect. And if Kyoujurou had decided to reject her than at least she'd look hot getting her heartbroken.

He had already left over an hour ago since he had to tutor a student in history at the tutoring center. A work study job that he picked up to help cover his tuition and endlessly spoke about when he got back to his dorm when you two were winding down from your day.

[Name] spritzed her best perfume to all her pulse points to extend the life of her scent as it hit her body. She threw it in her bag along with her make up just in case she needed to freshen up. One last look in the mirror and she was finally off to her date, er, hang-out thingy.

The autumn air was irregularly warm and humid. Well, not irregular for Okinawa at least. It was a sub tropical climate which meant mild winters and the moist summers were what [name] favored most about it here.

As she walked out of the dormitory and into the student parking lot, she was nearly blinded by the blond tresses sitting on the bench. Like quite, literally blinded. The sun was bouncing off his fiery hair more than usual and it was causing [name] to squint at him when she approached him. For some reason (she had an exact reason being that she looked super hot), [name] felt bold, and advanced toward Kyoujurou with hands concealing his vision. He visibly tensed and she couldn't help but feel a smile tug at her lips.

"Guess who."

His body now relaxing at the sound of her voice and she felt the apples of cheeks rise into a grin against the palm of her hands. "[name], you're finally here!"

She released her hands as he got up to face her and his jaw went a little aslack as he oggled at her profile. [Name] was stunning, indeed. His adam's apple bobbed up and down as he dryily swallowed. His hair that was now pulled back in a high ponytail let his bangs frame his face beautifully, swayed in the small gust momentarily. She could've sworn that he was blushing at her, but then again it was quite hot...

"You look--um, quite sharp!" He stammered. Kyoujurou mentally socked himself in the face. Sharp? That was the best he could come up with?

[Name]'s expression was now in a state of bemusement before she laughed melodically. To him it was a beautiful melody that he always tried to sway out of her with corny jokes and memes. "Well, thank you Kyoujurou. You look quite sharp, too!"

[Name] wanted to die. She looked sharp? Sharp?! No, she looked Hot! With a capital freaking "H".

Nonetheless, [name] shook it off. She was determined to make this flawless even if it was off to a rocky start. Thankfully the ride to the amusement car was starting to make up for it. The both of them jammed to the playlist they had put together earlier and discussed which rides they were excited about most.

"$50?!"

"You really don't read things thoroughly do you, [name]."

[Name] ignored his attempt at poking fun at her. It was always like this whenever she freakishly exclaimed about information that was news to her, but had been there for well however long the inital post had been there for and Kyoujurou had always made it a point to call her out for it.

"Well, I can't make you pay for it." She deadpanned. And she absolutely meant it. Kind of. Not really. It would mean that it would technically be a date, right? Right? A guy paying always meant that it was a date. [Name] mentally nodded at herself reassuring herself.

"Well, that's too bad." He inserted his card into the chip reader and thanked the attendant while grabbing his receipt.

[Name] bit back a smile as they walked side by side into the park. "Well, I'm going to pay you back."

He looked at her with an uncharacterstically sultry gaze. "No, you are not."

His voice demanding, dropped an octave and it sent a shiver up her spine. [Name] would be lying to herself if she said that it didn't make the her stomach knot up. Kyoujurou pulled out his phone pointed it towards her, trying to get a good angle and lighting.

"Now, give me a smile!" He beamed in his usual cheery tone. [Name] smiled posing her usual peace sign as he clicked away at his phone. Had she just imagined that?

The day seemed to slip past them as they took pictures with their phones and disposal camera they bought at the one of the stands for a whooping $25. Which was a total rip off, but then again bottled water was $5. The pair were laughing as they looked through the pictures they had taken throughout their trip.

"Oh, no. You are not keeping this one." She reached over to tap the trash can on his phone screen to get rid of the terrible photo that was her inhaling funnel cake. But before she could, Kyoujurou moved his screen away from her as he chuckled at [name] getting flustered. There was no way he'd let her get away with such a cute picture.

"I am definitely going to be framing this as soon as we get back." And that made [name]'s face inflame in embarrassment and shock. She was definitely, not going to let him do that.

"You delete that, right. Now!" She tried her best to extend her arms in every which way Kyoujurou was flexing his arms out but to avail. [Name] knew she wasn't going to get her hands on his phone, but she kept leaning over in an attempt to get an advantage on his long arms. That was until she clambered into his lap, face first into his crotch.

Kyoujurou froze and his breath hitched as he lowered his arm down and let unholy thoughts pass through his head but he quickly shook them off. "A-are you alright, [name]?"

Nope, now [name] was definitely going to die. She slowly rose out of his lap and plopped back into her seat, trying her best not to make the situation even more awkward. She shot him a smile in a strive to shake off the graceless action of diving face first into the crotch of her crush.

"I'm all good." She took a deep breath before looking up at the darkening sky. Kyoujurou couldn't tell what she was thinking, but it looked almost as if she was unfazed which he was very thankful for.

"Let's go on the ferris wheel before we leave!" That snapped him out of his thoughts. A grin now making its way back onto his face and a sound of approval emitted from his lips. "Let's do it!"

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°

[Name] snickered to herself as they entered the ferris wheel seating after letting several people ahead of them. It was all going according to plan, well, not the face planting into Kyoujurou’s lap. That was definitely not in the plan she and Shinobu had concocted.

“So, here the game plan.” Shinobu stated matter-o-factly. Her name were in a crouched position as if in a very important football team meeting. “You’re gonna look hot. Like I’m talking Jennifer’s Body hot. And then—“

”But i don’t have clothes like that.”

“Shut up. We’ll go shopping. And your make up has got to be perfect like I’m talking no melting off your face looking like the Corpse Bride. Oh, and you’re drowning yourself in sexy perfume every thirty minutes.”

”But I—“

”Speak out of line one more time and I’ll kick your ass.”

“Fine.”

“Back to what I was saying. You’re gonna take loads of pics start it off friendly and lighthearted and then bam! You get him on that ferris wheel and get your flirt on. End the night off with a kiss at the top of the ferris wheel.”

Shinobu was extremely gifted in giving pep talks and revving them up. Which was probably why she was captain of the cheer team at their university.

[Name] felt like she was a crazy high. She could practically run four miles nonstop with the attitude she had in that moment.

Shinobu and her high fived, one leg kicked up in to the air with the most triumphant looks on their faces. “We got this!”

She shook her head as if to shake away the thought.

”You, ok?”

She smiled at the slightly dampened Kyoujorou who’s cheek were tinted pink from the heat. Beads of sweat has slid down his temples, but that only seemed to add to his sex appeal.

”More than ok. I love ferris wheels. They’re so romantic.”

Those words left her lips and turned in a smile that was as sweet as candy. Kyoujurou’s heart leapt in his chest as he eyed her intently.

”You could say that.”

He done fucked up again. Kyoujurou wanted to kick his own ass at this point. Why was he so terrible at flirting? It made him look like he didn’t pick up any social cues at all. Which wasn’t entirely untrue. There were many times where Tengen would point out that a girl was being extremely flirtatious with him but it would simply go over his head. He would usually reject the notion claiming they were just being nice which in turn would lead to Tengen face palming. And he thought he was doing such a good job at the start.

The silence was deafening as they reached the top of the ride and it suddenly came to a jerking stop. The view was wondrous. The sun kissed at their faces and grazed the tops of trees and the peaks of roller coaster rides. Brightly colored lights flashed simultaneously down below, but [Name]’s  stomach felt like it was caving in the longer she stared. Very romantic, indeed.

Her face must’ve looked a little green because Kyoujurou’s expression turned into a worried one. “You sure you’re okay, [name]? Have some water.”

She grabbed the bottle he handed to her and instead of water falling like she usually did, she pressed her lips against the same place his had been. Kyoujurou’s eyes widened in surprise as she absentmindedly guzzled his drink down and gave it back to him. His hands turning into fists as he flexed as hard he could to keep the warmth that was rising away from that region.

“Thanks.” She gasped. [Name] wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as she leaned back against the seat. So much for her game plan. She sighed to herself as she collected her thoughts. What difference would it make if she just told him right now.

”Kyoujurou.” The name left her lips so effortlessly. He loved the way she said his name. He would think about it mostly in the shower, but more innocently before he went to sleep.

He raised his eyebrows fully attentive now. She turned to face him as she leaned forward. A different look on her face. Soft and flustered. “I like you, a lot.”

His body stiffened for a moment and a cool breeze swooped past their longing gazes. The sudden realization had dawned upon him that those words weren’t just make believe. She had really uttered them into existence. He hadn’t noticed how close her lips were to his until he felt her minty breath fan against his nose. He didn’t pull away.

[Name] closed the distance between their lips and Kyoujurou instinctively leaned in more as soon as they made contact. His hand cupped her cheek to deepen the kiss and she sighed in delight. A smile now etched on her face had now infected him and he pulled away to look at her. He caressed her cheek as she giggled and he gazed her puzzled.

”Did I do something wrong?” If he kissed her wrong he definitely wanted to know. One thing about Kyoujurou was that he was always open to constructive criticism. She shook her head. The content look on her face still evident.

”Not at all.” She leaned in once more. “I just didn’t expect you to be so frigid.”

She giggled again at his surprised, yet embarrassed mien. However, [name] stopped giggling when she saw the determined look on his face.

”Well, I can do better.” He suddenly captured her lips and she instantly melted at his hot touch. His hand loosely on her waist and she moaned a bit as their kisses turn into feverish open mouthed ones. His lips detached from hers as he felt the the ride coming back down. [Name] felt like her whole body was in flames and there Kyoujurou was sitting there as cool as a cucumber.

The ride shifted the shuttle as the two got up and his hands slipped in hers as he lead them out. She couldn’t believe  the stunt he just pulled. Her fingers on her lips still feeling the ghost of his. He laughed heartily at her reddened face and that captured her attention.

”Don’t worry. We can continue that when we get back.”

[Name] was speechless, but somehow was even more flushed than before. Kyoujurou chuckled at her again as he pulled her in for a side hug as they headed back to his car. The smug look never left his face.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kyoujurou rengoku x reader #rengoku kyoujurou #kyoujurou x reader #kny rengoku #kny reader insert #kny x reader #kny x y/n #kny x you #kny kyoujurou #kyoujurou rengoku #college au #modern au #anime x reader #anime insert #anime #manga #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer x you #demon slayer x y/n #flame hashira #flame pillar #writing

[byunbaekby]

title — a clouded fate pairing — badboy!mark lee x female reader featuring — lucas wong/wong yukhei, johnny seo, lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta (mentioned), lee donghyuck (mentioned) word count — 17.2k   overall warnings — extreme drug use, drug dealing, alcohol use, language, religion, addiction, drug overdose, vomiting, one explicit smut scene smut warnings — fingering, protected sex (stay safe, always!), high sex, corruption kink for like 0.2 seconds, degradation collab — bad boy bingo collab, link here lyrics inspiration — “call it quits, call it destiny.” bruno major, easily ; “gotta stay high all the time, to keep you off my mind.” tove lo, habits writing playlist  — link here

author’s message — oh my gosh, it’s finally here! this has been a work in progress basically ever since early summer, when i started writing on this blog. this is one of my favorite pieces i’ve ever written, but not because writing it came easy to me; quite the opposite. i scrapped and rewrote this three times, consulted many people for their opinions because i simply didn’t think that it was good. a few thank you’s: my babe @jensungf​ for reading the first draft when it was at barely 5k, the lovely @ncteaxhoe​ for reading it at 7k and also the night i finished it, @taempteng​ the writing god for proofing it for me, and my amazing @starlit-jeno​ for getting me through everything. also thank you @legendnct​ for hosting this collab! it’s finally at a place where i am happy and very very proud of what i’ve written. i hope you all read and enjoy!

—DAY ONE.

The ice cold water thrown over him shocks Mark awake from his post-high sleep. 

“What the hell, man?” He exclaims, wiping the water from his face as he sits up in his bed, soaked t-shirt sticking to the curve of his clavicles. His eyes meet the source of the intrusion: his roommate and best friend Lucas, holding a now empty pitcher. 

“Dude. It’s past noon. Wake up.”

Lucas’ passive words only make Mark furrow his eyebrows in annoyance. “Shut the fuck up bitch, I’m awake.” 

“Someone’s feisty today.” Lucas retorts, tossing Mark a towel as he swings his legs over the bed. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he recognizes his best friend’s chastising tone in his diluted ears. “When did you get back last night? What were you doing?”

“Calm down,” Mark groans, the volume of Lucas’ voice beginning to hurt his head. Running a hand through his now wet hair, he responds, “I was smoking with Yuta. Got back around three in the morning.” 

“Yuta,” mumbles Lucas. “You know, I don’t like him. You’re always with him, getting high or something. Exams start soon, and you’re not planning to study at all? You’ve been high every day for what, like, the past two weeks?” 

This early morning lecture is enough to cause Mark’s irritation to spike. Since when is Lucas so nitpicky? Last time he checked, Lucas enjoys partying just as much as he does. Sometimes, even more than Mark himself. “Fuck, are you my roommate or my mom?”

“I’m your best friend, is what I am. I’m worried about you. All you do is party, get high, and sleep. When was the last time you even ate?” Before Mark can even think back to answer that, Lucas continues, “You’ve been like this since you broke up with Y/N, and—”

Mark cuts him off. “Don’t say her name.”

“You’re hurting, Mark. And this isn’t the right way to handle it.”

“Oh, so you take one psychology course and you think you’re an expert or something,” Mark scoffs.

This seems to stunt his roommate for a second, before he sighs looking down at the image of his best friend sitting on the edge of his bed, gaunt eyes and all. The last time he saw his friend looking so pitiful was when his dad had passed. “I’m just worried about you. You should let me be, sometimes,” replies Lucas quietly. 

“I’m an adult,” says Mark, which causes Lucas to scoff and respond, “Then act like one.” Annoyed, Mark stands and instead takes a seat at his desk chair. 

The taller male speaks up once again, starting to tear off Mark’s bed sheets that are now wet. “You need to stop. This isn’t good for you. Stop the drugs and tell Johnny you’re done. Study for your finals. Get your act together, stop acting like an idiot, and go get her back.”

When he finishes stripping the sheets and looks up, Mark’s head is in his hands. “It’s not that easy.” 

“You love her.”

“But that doesn’t mean we’re meant to be together,” Mark finally says as he looks up, voice raised in frustration at both the situation and the fact that his best friend is calling him out for it. “We can’t be together,” he declares. “I’m only going to ruin her. She’s good. I’m bad. She has a future. I don’t. She’s everything I’m not and I can’t mess it up for her. Not after... Not after—” Lucas cuts his friend off, sensing that he’s about to start hyperventilating. 

“I know. What happened, you can’t change it. It was your fault. But don’t say you’re not meant to be together. Nothing’s going to change the past. You broke up. But nothing’s going to bring you back together but yourself.” 

Mark stares at Lucas with tired, red-rimmed eyes, wondering when his tall goofy friend had grown so much. Has everything around him changed, matured, while he stayed the same?

“How do I do that?” He finally relents.

“Make yourself good enough for her. Start with the drugs. Stop doing them.” 

He knows the truth in that statement, but doesn’t want to acknowledge it. It’s a lot easier said than done. With no words to say, Mark stands and starts to walk past his friend toward the bathroom. On the way out, he accidentally kicks his guitar, on the floor propped on the wall. “Fuck,” he curses, looking down at the old wooden thing. 

Lucas follows him out as he leaves the room, and Mark steps into the bathroom. Opening the mirror cabinet, he pulls out his prescription bottle which shakes with noise. Silently he pops a pill into his mouth and swallows it with a handful of tap water. It’s probably a bad idea on an empty stomach, but he’ll eat whatever Lucas is making right after. 

“That includes the Xanax, Mark!” Lucas’ voice calls from the kitchen. 

“Baby steps,” he responds, staring endlessly into the pitiful character watching him in the mirror. 

—THE FIRST NIGHT

It isn’t his first party, but it’s his first college party. There’s a big difference.

The scale is larger, the alcohol more plentiful. And more importantly, the shame of being under the influence is nonexistent. His ziploc of kush feels heavy in his pocket, but he knows he’ll feel lighter with its effect later on. School’s only been in session a week, yet Mark’s already decided he likes university more than high school.

He hasn’t smoked yet, but clearly others have, from the haze wafting from room to room. The music is loud, the air is musty, and there’s a cloud of visible smoke surrounding a group of people in the corner. He can smell it now, the familiar scent relaxing him in a new environment. 

He’s about to venture out to said group, catching Lucas’ ashy gray hair (a horrible decision, really) sticking out from its inhabitants, but then something catches his eye. 

In a room of dark gray smoke and purple LED lights, a white dress catches his attention. He turns his head and, faded by the blurred intensity of the smoke, there you are. Leaning with your back against the wall, alone. You’re not doing much, just standing there in your awkward lonesome looking entirely out of place while swirling the contents of your red cup in your hand. With seemingly no move to drink it, you’re staring blankly into said cup, and Mark stares blankly at you. The white fabric of your dress seems to vividly attract the iridescent purple lights of the party, leaving you to stand out in the massive crowd. Though from the way you stand out from the crowd, it seems that that’s the last thing you want to do; you’d rather blend into the scene. 

But you don’t. You’re a beacon of white light in the gray bleakness of the party, and Mark contemplates his next action. He had promised Lucas that he’d be his wingman to try and win over Yuqi. But there’s something about you that pulls him. 

Oh well, he muses to himself as he slides across the room toward you. It’s not his fault Lucas needs a wingman to talk to girls, and he doesn’t. 

“Hey,” he starts, trying to make himself heard above the music. “You’re staring at that thing like you need a refill.”

At the sound of his voice you look up as though suddenly startled. Then your eyes land on him and Mark’s not entirely sure if he’s sane, but you relax. “No thanks,” you respond politely. “I don’t drink.”

“Really?” Mark glances at his red Solo cup, half filled with some sordid mixture of vodka and Fanta that Doyoung had given him earlier.

“Is that strange?” You ask curiously as he makes move to lean on the wall next to you. Except rather than lean his back to it, he presses his shoulder to the wall to face you. 

“A bit.” Mark says as he tilts his head back, pressing the red cup to his lips as he downs the rest of the liquid in his cup. 

“Maybe. I’ve learned that there are more people who drink in college than people who don’t… I guess I fall into the second category.” When he finishes his drink, he tosses it over his shoulder. 

“Nah,” he says in response. “I don’t really drink either. Only occasionally. I’m already a mess with the weed, imagine how much I’d be if I was an alcoholic.” He nearly expects you to laugh at his lame attempt at being playful, but he’s met with silence. Still, he doesn’t miss the way your eyebrows quirk slightly upward at his words. Right now, dark hair tousled and dark ripped jeans decorating his legs, Mark thinks he looks pretty good. But you don’t seem to be as interested as girls in the past. 

“You smoke…” Your words trail and Mark finds himself enraptured by the form of your lips as you talk. His mind flies, but you continue, “How’s that like?” 

He shrugs. “It’s nothing, really. Just fun. I have some right now if you want,” he says, patting his jean pocket. 

“Oh, no,” you immediately recoil, as if it were preposterous. Immediately your eyes widen and you shake your head at him. “Not-not that people who do it are bad or anything! It’s just… not my thing.”

If you didn’t drink or enjoy any substances, what were you doing here? He asks this aloud. 

“My roommate dragged me,” you explain. “We’ve only been living together for a week since the year started but she’s… something else. I’ve seen her smoke more than I’ve seen her study.” 

You almost sound scared. This causes a laugh to leave his lips, and yours. He’s finding, in the mere two minutes of conversation you’ve made, that you are very different from the girl he thought you were across the room. You were indeed like your dress that attracted him: bright, pure, and comfortable. 

And he wants you.

Your silence brings about Mark’s introduction. “I’m Mark, by the way.” His hand stretches out to you and you stare for a second.

“Y/N.” You place your hand in his, and from the jolt he feels in his heart, the first of its kind, that is the first time that Mark Lee believes in the existence of fate. 

—FIVE HOURS CLEAN.

If someone had told Mark in his freshman year of high school that he would become a drug dealer in college, he would have directed them to his father’s church and told them to pray a bit. 

Yes, prior to his entrance to adulthood and the cruel, cruel world, Mark Lee was a church boy. A good boy. He did well in school, dedicated his weekends to church and playing basketball with his boys. Up and down the high school halls, his signature laugh could be heard at any moment he wasn’t in class. 

Then the summer before his senior year, Pastor Lee passed from cancer and Mark’s boisterous laughter became a long forgotten sound. 

It was two weeks after his dad’s funeral that he met Donghyuck, a boy with shady eyes who offered him some kush. Just want to try it, Mark had tried to reason with his conscience when he took that first hit behind the school. Then he fell into the fatal world of drugs and partying. Lucas had been there since their junior high days, sad to see his friend fall so poorly, and he had forced Mark to get his shit together for graduation that year. Barely.

So yes, he was once the bright eyed boy he always wanted to be, who read the Bible front to back and wouldn’t have known how to roll a joint, but that was fantasy. He wasn’t that anymore. He’s a college student trying to get along with the little money he can make from selling weed and other things. He had first gotten into this when he met Johnny Seo, two years above him who could tell that Mark was struggling to make tuition and rent with a job at McDonald’s. Now Johnny has graduated and Mark is still doing his dirty work for him.

That’s exactly what he’s doing now, standing outside Taeyong’s house a little past 6PM with a pouch of kush in his bag. 

It’s easy money, but that never calms his nerves. 

Even when the door opens to reveal Taeyong, shirtless and red hair in disarray, Mark doesn’t stop bouncing his foot in worry. His restlessness isn’t lost on Taeyong, who had obviously just woken up. “It’s 6PM,” Mark says, eyebrow raised at his appearance.

“I was up all night working on a track.” Taeyong’s eyes flicker to Mark’s bouncing foot. “You’re bouncier than normal,” he comments as he counts his bills in his hand. 

“Haven’t had my fix today.” Mark explains simply as the older male hands over a wad of cash. As he counts it silently, Taeyong points his thumb over his shoulder to his living room. 

“Wanna come in and hit some?”

Mark looks up at his offer and sighs inwardly. It would be rather easy to just give in and smoke a bit with someone he trusted, and he wouldn’t even be paying for the weed. He’s tempted. After weeks of being stoned nearly every day, he’s starting to itch for a fix. But Lucas’ gruff voice rings in his mind and he knows that if he gives in, only five hours in, he’ll never be able to live with himself. So for now he does it for Lucas, but maybe in time he’ll see that it was for himself after all. 

“I’m good.” Mark nearly shoves the pouch of green into Taeyong’s grasp, wanting to be away from it as soon as possible. The red-haired recipient only blinks.

“You’re giving it up or something?”

“Or something,” mumbles Mark sullenly, tucking his hands into his pockets. 

“That’s good,” Taeyong declares after a short silence. Mark looks up, meeting Taeyong’s suddenly sincere eyes. “Good for you. I really couldn’t believe that you got into that stuff with Johnny’s crowd anyways.” Mark only shrugs in response. He’d long since stopped deliberating over that. This is his life now. “Still doing music?”

“In name, yeah, I’m still a music major. But I don’t have time to play.” The last time he touched his guitar was this morning when he had kicked it. The last time before that… he doesn’t know if he can’t remember due to a marijuana induced haze or if it’s because it really has been that long. 

Taeyong continues. “You know, you don’t have to do this stuff. You’re a talented guy, you’re strong. If you could dedicate yourself to your music like you do to dealing, you wouldn’t need to deal.”

This brings about a sigh from Mark. Who is Taeyong to tell him what to do, anyways? Last time he checked, he was the customer, not Mark. “You all make it sound so easy.”

“Trust me. You can do it.”

—THE FIRST KISS

The first time Mark kisses you, it’s cold outside. 

He’s walking you back to your sharehouse, down the streets of town, when he asks, “Be honest with me and tell me if that date sucked.” 

It’s been a couple weeks since the two of you first met that fated night at Doyoung’s party, and you’ve only now allowed him to take you out on a date. He doesn’t know that it’s your first. Well, in some ways, it’s his also. 

Mark’s been on a few dates, sure, but those all ended up with him getting his dick wet in the dark parking lot of a Burger King or something. He’d normally take them out for fast food, and finish with the usual fun stuff in his back seat. This time it’s… different. Not only does he figure that you wouldn’t be down for that type of date, but something in him wants it to be different. The only problem is he doesn’t know how to plan a good date.

He still took you out to get McDonalds’, but instead of retreating to the backseat, he drove the two of you to the movie theatre. It was probably a dumb choice of him in hindsight, deciding to watch an action movie, but something about the way you hid your face into his neck when one of the characters got punched out made him smile.

“No, it wasn’t… bad,” you respond, swinging your interlaced hands. You had surprised him earlier when you had grabbed his hand upon exiting his car, curling your fingers together. 

“You’re lying,” he sighs. 

“No, I’m not. Really,” you reassure him as the two of you approach the door of your home. After all, how can you have a bad date when you’ve never been on a date before? You have nothing to compare it to. “I had a good time. Actually… it was my first date.”

Mark blinks, having not expected that to be so. A groan leaves his lips as his free hand comes up to run through his hair. “Oh god, and I ruined it.”

“No, no, it was perfect. I wouldn’t change it for anything.” You smile a sickeningly sweet, charming smile at him, and he sighs. You’re too good for a guy like him. 

He’s beyond surprised actually—even though you know of his habits, his hobby of wasting time and rolling joints, you haven’t run away like others. And he likes you. A lot. Even though everything tells him that what he does is bad for you, he still wants you. You’re a comfortable presence in his life. 

“You know,” you suddenly start. Mark looks up, intrigued. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

He wonders if the surprise on his face is painfully evident. “Really? Like, ever?”

His question is met with a shake of your head, and he blinks. So you’ve never drank or smoked. That, he can believe. But the fact that you’ve never kissed anyone? Sometimes… you shock him with your boldness. Like earlier when you grabbed his hand and at your first meeting when you had asked for his phone number before he could. But in some moments like now, he realizes just how the duality of your personality comes into play. 

“Why’s that?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, it never really felt right,” you explain as the two of you approach your doorstep. As he escorts you up the steps and to your front door, he furrows his brows deeper. Why were you telling him this?

“Does it feel right, now?” He asks softy, gaze flickering to your interlaced hands as he turns to face you. His hand reaches forward, cupping your cheek, the touch soft despite the callused skin of his hands. 

“Yes,” you respond gently, simpering smile on your roseate tiers. 

The smile on your face is sweet and pure, two words that Mark isn’t.

A flood of relief shows on Mark’s face, and you bite down on your lower lip as excitement bubbles in your stomach. “Can I kiss you?” A response quickly follows. For some reason he can’t quite figure out, you let him into the maze that is you. Despite the leather jacket, his messy hair, and the lingering smell of weed on his clothes, you want him just as much as he wants you. Even though you both know that he isn’t the type of guy that you normally like, the type of guy that your mother would approve of, you trust him. It’s bewildering to him. 

Then he guides you to him. Within seconds his lips are on yours, and you melt into him. It’s surely not Mark’s first kiss but it feels like it. The initial awkwardness, then the heat on his cheeks as you both fall into a rhythm. It feels right, like it was meant to be, just as Mark had hoped. 

You’re like the kind of irreplicable drug that Mark has sought after for years. The kind that brings a euphoric high which burns his lungs and twists his stomach, but in all the right ways.

—29 HOURS CLEAN.

The smell filling the kitchen leads Lucas to scrunch his nose in distaste when he exits his room. “Dude, what the hell is that smell?”

His answer lies in the pan on the stove and Mark standing in the kitchen, wielding a wooden spoon. Clad in only basketball shorts, he looks absolutely foreign to the environment. Lucas sighs. “Please tell me you’re not boiling crack right here in our kitchen.”

The face the Korean makes is scandalized. “What—no, what the fuck? It’s mapo tofu. I’d be insane to try and make crack cocaine.” He adds under his breath, “In the apartment.”

Lucas leans back against the counter, cocking an eyebrow. “Then why are you cooking mapo tofu of all things? I haven’t seen you eat anything but ramen and eggs probably since we moved in here. And—put on a shirt if you’re cooking, or an apron at least. You look like a caveman.” 

“Well,” sounds Mark with a roll of his eyes at his friend’s expected lecturing. “I had a shirt on, but I spilled some spicy shit on it and took it off. And I,” he pauses, turning off the stove. “I thought we could eat your favorite food together before we head out to Hendery’s party. You know, as a… sorry for being a bitch yesterday apology.”

The taller man narrows his eyes, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to make sense of his best friend’s words. “So you… decided to make my favorite food because you felt bad that I had to wake you up and take care of your shit?”

“I guess, yeah.”

Lucas laughs, a deep sound, whilst shaking his head. “Dude, I’ve been doing that since middle school and you’re only apologizing now?”

Mark purses his lips, making a face of annoyance. “Better late than never.”

“I guess. But sorry, I wouldn’t want to eat your mapo tofu anyways. Smells more like my week’s laundry than food. Maybe next time just order from that Chinese place around the corner that I actually like,” advises Lucas.

A pitiful laugh leaves Mark’s lips. “Duly noted.”

“And anyways, I’m not going to Hendery’s party. I have plans.” This causes Mark to finally take a good look at his friend. He’s normally well-dressed, but tonight he looks even better, a little too fancy for the typical college frat party. Before Mark can even question what these other plans are, Lucas explains, “I have a date with—”

“Yuqi,” finishes Mark for him. “Figured.” Lucas grabs his wallet on the counter, nodding before tucking it into his pant pocket. “Is that why you haven’t been partying with us? Or why you’ve suddenly been on this, ‘Mark, sobriety is key’ rant?” Mark questions, lowering his voice to imitate that of his roommate’s. At Lucas’ silence, Mark scoffs. “Dude, your relationship is so fucked up, how many times are you guys going to try to make it work when it doesn’t?”

All that leaves Lucas is a sigh, but Mark continues. “This is what, your third breakup so far? And fourth time trying to make it work?”

“Some things are worth the effort,” replies Lucas easily, slipping on his shoes. As he reaches to tie his laces, Mark continues, “She takes up all of your time now, you haven’t hung with us in months, and all for a relationship that’s destined to fail.”

“Nothing’s destined to fail, Mark. It’s all about how hard you’re willing to work for it.” His voice is calm, but there’s something building beneath it. To this, Mark sighs, and says, “You’ve changed, man.”

Lucas grabs his keys, clearly at the limit with Mark’s prodding. “Sometimes people are worth changing for, Mark. Yuqi forgave me for what I did, and I forgave her for what she did. We’re trying, okay? We’re not walking away. I’m sure…” The taller male pauses on his words, as though contemplating them, before continuing. “I’m sure Y/N would’ve forgiven you for what you did, but you walked away. And that’s where we’re different.”

It hits him, and Mark tightens his jaw. Yes, his relationship with Y/N was destined to fail too, there was no denying it. To fight with his friend who he had just tried to make amends with, or apologize? He goes with the latter, only because he’s too exhausted for a yelling match right now. “Lucas, I’m sorry, okay? I’m a little… on edge.”

“I know. I’ve known you for years,” chuckles Lucas softly. “I know how you get.”

“Yeah. Have fun on your date, though.”

His best friend nods tightly. “Yeah, I will. But if you care about what I told you, don’t go to the party tonight. You know you won’t be able to control yourself.” Mark nods, sighing. “And throw out that mapo tofu while you’re at it. It stinks, and not in the good way mapo tofu’s supposed to smell.”

Mark rolls his eyes while Lucas’ laugh fills his ears. “Just leave already.”

With a few smooth movements he’s already slid out the apartment door. A sigh leaves him, alone in the apartment. He does as Lucas says, tossing his attempt at dinner in the trash. It’s gonna be a long night.

—THE FIRST TASTE.

The first time that you kiss Mark, however, it’s hot inside his apartment and sweat sticks the fabric of your tank top to your stomach. 

That doesn’t stop you from cuddling on his couch however, and you gaze up at him from your position under his arm to watch as your boyfriend, focused on the TV, lifts his blunt to his lips and takes a long drag. Underneath his arm, you observe how his lips wrap around the circumference of it, sucking in a sharp breath before releasing it into the air. He knows that over your time together, you’ve come to accept the smoking. It’s obviously clear to him that you don’t particularly approve, but Mark’s responsible enough to control himself. Now however, as you gaze up at him, you realize just how attractive your boyfriend is. Dark hair tousled and arms bared through his tank top, he looks so, so good. Somehow, he looks even better with the cig in his hand. 

You never would have thought you’d fall for such a guy like him, but you keep falling. He’s not the good guy that you dreamed of, but that’s okay, because you make him good. 

“Mark?” You ask, still looking up at him. 

He hums in response, turning to look at you. 

Your voice is soft as you ask, “Do you believe in destiny?”

Your boyfriend blinks at the sudden question. “Define destiny.”

“That like, we all have a predetermined fate. That everything happens for a reason, and every challenge is just a small piece in a bigger puzzle. That we all have soulmates we’re destined to be with.” Mark’s lips purse, pouting just the slightest in thought, a habit of his. 

Does he?

It’s a question, because he used to. He used to be a good old Christian boy, of course he believed that God had a plan for everyone. Every tribulation was just something that would make him stronger in the end. Unfortunately, the last time Mark can remember being at church, he fucked one of the choir girls in the Bible study room. 

He can’t really pinpoint when he stopped believing in fate. God? Yeah, sure he still believes in him, though the big guy upstairs will probably send him south for his irrefutable sins. But fate? Not really. If fate was real then it was really messed up to make him such a failure. 

But, he realizes, gazing at the strands of hair matted to your forehead as a result of the hot summer weather, and the pure adulation in your eyes as you gaze up to him, that perhaps because of you, his destiny isn’t too bad. Sure, he’s a fuck up with addictions and demons, but he does pretty well by keeping you happy. Because you make him happy. A smooth, suave smile spreads across his lips like butter. “I didn’t before, but I do now.”

Your eyebrow perks up. “Now you do? Why’s that?”

His arm wrapped lazily around your shoulders allows him to pull your face close. With the same smile, he presses a number of kisses to your cheek (much to your sweet protest, complaining about his sweat and smoke). As though he attempts to mask his words against your skin, he mumbles, “Because I found you.”

Mark has never told you that he loves you; it’s a bit too intimate for him, who’s never been vulnerable in that way, and you, whose every first is him. 

But he doesn’t have to say it, because you know it. 

Your lips break out into a flustered smile, though you try to hide it from him. His quiet, unsaid confession fills you with glee and more importantly, confidence. 

“Babe,” you tell him. This grabs his attention, because you rarely use such sweet nicknames. He attempts to respond, but you’re already sitting up and swinging yourself over to straddle his lap. Your movement brings about confusion on his features, and you take a deep breath. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in this position with him, but the first time you’ve made the initiative to do it yourself. Mark was always leading you. So you lean forward, placing your hands on his shoulders, and you kiss him. 

You can probably taste the smoke on your tongue, but you’ve grown accustomed to that. Mark kisses back and grips your waist with his free hand, both shocked and amused by your sudden courage. Everything feels right, it’s like it’s destiny. He’s about to slip his tongue into your mouth but you break the connection, choosing instead to linger your lips over his. Your breath is hot on his as you finally speak. 

“I want a puff.”

“Are you sure?” He looks up at you, nearly breathless at the sight of you atop him. Lip gloss smeared from your heated kiss, you look delectable. Your wide eyes, once depicting innocence, are now focused and curious. He knows you don’t necessarily approve of his habits, but here you are, sitting on top of him looking irresistible and asking for a taste. 

“Yes,” you confirm, as though reassuring yourself. Mark had always liked you, been attracted to you because of the notion that you were innocent, pure, bright. Everything he was not. He had never wanted to taint you, yet his confession still hangs in the air.

But as he lifts his blunt to his mouth, taking a long drag before blowing the diluted smoke into your waiting cavern, he starts to worry that this would be the beginning of a long downward spiral which would place no blame anywhere but on him. 

—44 HOURS CLEAN.

The withdrawal forces him from his sleep at 5AM. 

Mark wakes in a cold sweat, itching for a fix. That’s when he realizes how deep he really is. 

Shit. 

His fingers are shaking, so he moves to occupy them with the only thing he can think of. He drags himself out of bed, grabs his guitar, and makes his way out to the living room. Plopping himself down on the floor next to a window, he attempts to refamiliarize himself with the strings that he had abandoned. Lucas is still asleep, so he plucks quietly. 

He has long since forgotten what it was like to lose himself in the sound. 

There was once a time when he was passionate for something other than haze. It was music. The first time he touched a guitar, magic sprung through his fingers and he knew: he was made for this. Somehow, majoring in music composition and being forced to take so many theory and history classes had caused his passion to simmer. Now, it slowly burns again. 

He doesn’t realize how the hours pass and the sun begins to shine between the blinds. 

His mind brushes over what Taeyong had told him two days ago. Is this what he had been missing all this time? All the hours he spent blinded by a foggy smoked haze, had he been neglecting his own love for music? It’s amazing what he can accomplish when he takes a break from that life. 

He starts to feel like the old Mark again.

For a second, he stops strumming and directs his gaze to outside the window. There’s not much to see except the college town, with the glimpse of the university itself just atop the hill, but he stares and relishes in the sight of the sunlight casting a glow over the town. 

A knock on the door interrupts his deliberations.

A glance to the clock tells him it’s barely 9AM. Who would be here so early? There are two options, he decides as he stands from the floor to stretch his legs, resting his guitar on the wall. It’s either Yuqi, Lucas’ renowned off-again on-again girlfriend, or Johnny coming to deliver the week’s set. 

When he opens the door, the visitor’s face is blocked by a box, but he knows those shoes. Those white ballet flats with purple bows were always your favorite. 

Suddenly the box lowers and Mark is finally face to face with you, his ex-girlfriend. He hasn’t seen your face in the months since you’ve called it quits, even though he’s spent countless moments just staring at the leftover pictures on his phone. You look surprised to see him. 

“Oh—Mark. Lucas said you probably wouldn’t be awake.” So you had been keeping in touch with Lucas? This is news to him. Had his best friend been sharing that he had been basically wasting away the past few months without you?

“Couldn’t sleep,” explains Mark almost sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. For a moment he’s glad he had the mind to put on a shirt before coming outside.

“Oh…” You trail, your gaze traveling down to the box absentmindedly. 

He doesn’t mean to be rude, but the surprise at seeing you on his doorstep makes him a bit gruff. You’re still the same as before: same face, same shoes, same bright eyes. But there’s something about you, about your aura that’s different. More mature. More independent. Because you don’t need him anymore. “What are you doing here?”

If you’re taken aback by his coarseness, you don’t show it. “I brought a box of your stuff. It’s just... stuff that was left at my house.” You gesture to the box in your hands, and Mark is quick to take it from your arms. He prays you don’t take note of the way his hands shake. 

Slowly he places it on the floor next to the door and when he stands again, you’re leaning back and forth on your heels looking rather awkward. He doesn’t ask for an explanation but you give one anyways. You had always had a habit of talking too much when you felt nervous. “I’ve had it since...” Your breakup, but neither of you want to say it. “I put it together a couple months ago but put off bringing it over. But I figured, uh, the school year’s over in a couple weeks so I should just do it. I texted Lucas, he said he’d be awake to grab it but..”

“He’s still asleep,” Mark completes for you. 

“Yeah,” you say simply. No longer having a box to occupy your hands, you hold them behind your back which only furthers the idea that you’re uncomfortable in his presence. It makes him sad almost, how much things have changed.

He thinks back to what Lucas had told him at the start of the weekend. Maybe it was possible to change things back to the way they used to be. “Do you want to come inside? I have some coffee, or some—”

You look at him with blinking eyes. “I don’t dr—”

“I know.” He knows you don’t drink coffee. Of course he does. “I have tea. It’s even peppermint, your favorite.”

“You drink peppermint tea?” You look at him, incredulous. 

“I don’t. It’s leftover from when I bought it for you. I just... haven’t thrown it out yet.”

That’s what your love had done to him: turned him from a brooding boy into a softened man, so much that he was willing to keep your favorite drink around just in case you’d ever come back and want it.

“Oh,” you sound. Your teeth bite down gently on your bottom lip, gnawing it in contemplation as you look away from him momentarily. When you look back, he can see you’ve made your decision. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Mark. I’m sorry.”

He expected it, but it doesn’t sting any less. “That’s okay. I understand.” An attempt at a smile is displayed on his face, but it doesn’t reflect any of the radiance in the smile that you mirror back at him. It’s small, the tips of your lips barely lifting, but it’s enough to remind him that you are indeed all that is good in the world, and he needs you. He loves you.

Maybe he can’t love you right now but one day, he’ll be good enough to deserve you. That day isn’t today, but it’ll come eventually. “I’ll see you around,” you say to him.

“I hope so,” is his response.

You give him another small smile before turning to leave. “I hope you’re doing okay, Mark.”

He is, or he’s trying to. When you leave, he closes the door and returns the box to his bedroom before opening it up. Inside, numerous hoodies gifted to you because they became too small for him but were still huge on you. Old songbooks from his high school days that he no longer needed. A teddy bear he had gifted you on your first anniversary. 

Pushing the box aside, he grabs a notebook and his music theory textbook. Maybe it actually would do him some good to study. 

—THE FIRST TEAR.

“What the hell, Mark?”

You don’t curse often, so when you do, it wakes him. When you find him in his room, he’s knocked out with his body half on the bed and the other half slung over the edge. His hair sticks out in numerous fluffy tufts over his pillow, but you can still smell the weed off of him. 

“He only came back like, three hours ago.” He hears Lucas’ voice selling him out, and he groans into the pillow, only lifting his head to grumble at his roommate. 

“Snitch bitch,” he says, his voice groggy and scratched. 

“Don’t get mad at him,” you suddenly speak up. “At least he answered my calls when I was calling, worried where you were because you hadn’t texted me since,” you stop to check your phone. “5PM last night!”

“I told you, I was going to Johnny’s party,” responds Mark, sitting up in his bed, head still spinning. Rubbing his eyes, he sits up, looking rather disheveled and hungover. 

“Yeah, and you never texted me to let me know you were home. How would I have known if you had overdosed, or passed out drunk, or got in a car accident? Or just died?” As your voice rises, reaching a volume you’ve rarely ever employed, you clear your throat to calm yourself and turn to Lucas. “Thanks, Lucas. I appreciate it.”

“Any time,” he responds, giving a nod before walking away, likely disappearing into his room.

When you turn back to gaze into Mark’s room, he’s slipped on a shirt. “What the hell were you doing out so late? 9AM is when you should be waking up, Mark, not falling asleep. Finals are next week, you were supposed to meet me at the library an hour ago!”

He makes an annoyed expression at your chastising, and you gaze at him with expectant eyes, awaiting an explanation. All he does is grimace and say, “Babe, can you like, quiet down? I’m hungover, your voice is too loud.” 

Your jaw drops. 

For a moment you stay like that, until you continue speaking, words coming out faster than Mark can understand them. “I’m just trying to help, Mark. You’ve partied more than you’ve studied this year, and I’m not going to let you just get away with it. Almost every weekend I have to stay up worrying about you, wondering when you’ll get home, unable to sleep until you text me that you’re home and okay.” 

“Maybe you should stop worrying then,” he retorts.

“Maybe stop giving me reasons to worry?”

He rolls his eyes, laying back in his bed. “Maybe you should come with me then.”

You quickly reply, “Maybe you should stop partying.”

“Maybe you should stop trying to control me,” he finally spits.

Once again, you’re rendered speechless. And when you turn your head away, focusing your gaze to the hallway instead of at him, Mark thinks he’s won. But then you sniff, an indication that your sensitive heart has once again been touched with tears. “Please,” you finally say, voice weak. This is the timbre Mark is used to hearing from you, not the tone you had used earlier when yelling at him. In this moment, he’s not sure which one he hates more. “Please stop this.”

In a swift movement you reach forward, gathering yourself on your knees before his bed. You grab his hand, pressing your lips to it as a tear makes its way down your cheek. “Please, please, please… please stop the drugs, Mark. It’s made you this… this terrible person and I know you’re not like this.” Suddenly, you’re crying into the palm of his hand while he gazes at you in surprise. “Missing dates, staying out late, yelling, I know that’s not you.”

“Y/N—”

“Please, just call Johnny and tell him you can’t do this anymore. Tell him you’re done. Please, for me.” 

Your begging causes Mark’s jaw to tighten subconsciously. What you’re hoping for is a better Mark, a different person. He’s not that person that you want him to be, he can never be that way. This is how he is and how he’ll always be. This is his fate, to be a lowlife drug dealer barely passing college, and if you can’t handle it then—“You know I can’t do that. You promised you’d be here through everything, all the good and the bad.” 

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to let you destroy yourself like this, Mark.”

He rips his hand from your grasp, causing a slight squeak of surprise to leave your lips. It’s almost as if he’s not in control of himself, because he blows up. “Can’t you just be like a good girlfriend and love me through the bad shit? I’m trying my best here.”

But is he really? Suddenly, as though empowered by some kind of intangible strength, you rise to your feet, the sadness in your eyes now quickly replaced by anger. “I do love you, that’s why I’m acting like this, you asshole!” You wipe your tears furiously with the back of your hand before glowering down at him. “But if you can’t keep your mind sober long enough to see that then call me when you can.” 

He registers the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut, causing it to ring in his ears. Within the blink of an eye, you’re gone. Fate is a really messed up bitch for this. 

—1 WEEK CLEAN.

It’s been a week. 

A week since the last time he touched anything, though he had been tempted when Yuta invited him over for some sativa. The drinking and partying isn’t hard to let go of. It’s the weed, because it got him through the hardest days. 

A week in, and he’s pretty proud of himself. 

Nowadays, he tries to occupy his shaking hands with guitar or studying but he’s started playing so often that his hands are now raw and in pain. Today, because the weather’s nice outside and his fingers hurt like hell, he decides to take a walk.

It’s aimless at first, just exploring the streets around his apartment on foot. But then ten, fifteen, thirty minutes pass, and without knowing it, he’s arrived at his destination. Johnny’s place. Standing in front of the door, eyes boring into the bright red paint of the front door, Mark feels himself start to slip. No, he decides, he has to do this. This is the right thing.

A shaky knock on the door is followed by another stronger one. He waits a minute before trying again, yet as his hand lifts to place another knock on it, it slides open to reveal Johnny himself in casual wear. “Hey,” greets Johnny, giving Mark a nod. “What’s up? I told you I’d drop the next batch off at your place, you didn’t have to come out here.”

At Johnny’s question, Mark feels his breath caught in his throat. Not only is the guy taller than him and towering over him in every aspect, but he could definitely throw Mark under the bus for his own crimes. But no… he wouldn’t do that, right? He had done enough for Johnny over the past three years that he would let him off easily, surely? A gulp is heard in Mark’s throat as he straightens his position in front of Johnny. 

“That’s the thing. I… I don’t want to do this anymore.”

For a moment, Mark thinks that the taller man will be angry. Johnny stands before him, eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“I just need to.”

Johnny immediately starts to argue, tilting his head. “You know you’re my best seller, though. No one sells as much as you, and I trust you with all the big deliveries. Who am I supposed to give the heroin to now… Ten? As if, Mark.” He scoffs, shaking his head.

“I…” Mark starts, though he stops. “I need to stop. I’ll finish the batch from this week, I promise. I only have like, two deliveries left but I just, it’s not healthy for me. And it’s not because I’m planning to sell you out or anything, or find someone else but I just can’t do this anymore.” He finds himself ranting, finding more interest in anything but Johnny’s face. “I’m not happy, I’m angry and anxious all the time, and being around the drugs only makes me want to do it more, and I just… I just can’t, John.”

When he finishes his unfiltered rant, he looks back to the taller male and tries to read his expression. Will he be angry? If his earlier debate was anything, he definitely wouldn’t let Mark off without a fight. 

But instead, the older nods. “I get it. Just finish your deliveries for this week and call it done.”

Mark blinks at Johnny’s easy acquiescence. “T-That’s it? You’re not going to fight more?”

“You want me to?” Johnny asks, cocking an eyebrow that’s almost mocking. 

“No, but I…” 

“Thought you’d be worth the fight?”

“No, that’s not it.” Mark shakes his head. “I just…”

“Mark,” sighs Johnny, standing straight from where he had been leaning rather casually against the doorframe. “I’m not stupid, okay? I know that drug dealing is hard for you. And I’m also not oblivious, I know that you and your girlfriend broke up, okay? Yuta told me what happened with the coke, and I wasn’t surprised when you refused to sell it anymore.”

Mark frowns even deeper at the mention of it, but Johnny continues. “I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to do. If you say it’s not good for you, then it’s not good for you.”

“But…” Mark starts, but doesn’t find the words to continue. It was… that easy. “Okay. Uh, thanks, I guess. For everything?”

“Sure. Just don’t come crawling back when you can’t make rent on your McDonalds’ salary. Male strippers make pretty good money, if you’re interested.” It’s clear Johnny’s joking, so Mark rolls his eyes and laughs, though the sound is somewhat tight. 

“I’d love to talk to you some more about ways to get a hustle going, but I have to go find a new dealer, and teach Ten how to stop giving weed to everyone he meets because he thinks they need a pick-me-up.” Johnny sighs, as though the life of a drug dealer is the most difficult of them all, which in Mark’s experience, it might just be. 

“Alright. Uh, later, John.”

Johnny nods in acknowledgement before shutting the door. Mark breaths out a heavy breath. 

That went… surprisingly well. Maybe Lucas was right, maybe it really was this easy all this time. Perhaps he had always just been the one believing that it was difficult, because he had made it so. He had been stressing over it all this time, but Johnny was more easygoing about it than he’d thought.

As he walks the path home, he thinks he deserves a reward for his endeavors. It’s a bit selfish maybe, but he opens his phone, and you’re on his speed dial. 

“Hello?” You ask, voice bright as always but clearly a bit guarded from the name that had flashed across your screen. 

“Y/N,” Mark breathes out. It’s only been a few days since you had swung by the apartment. 

“Hey, uh… what’s up?”

He doesn’t quite know either. He had quite honestly been a bit impulsive in pressing on your contact, and now that you truly rest across the phone from him, he has no idea what his purpose was. “Um, nothing much, I just wanted to tell you…” A soft breath leaves his lips. Will you be happy for him? “I told Johnny that I quit, that I’m done.” 

There’s a momentary pause on the line, and Mark begins to worry that you’ve hung up when you finally breathe out, “That’s good, Mark. I’m… I’m proud of you.”

Proud. He had only been hoping for a “good for you,” at most, but to hear that you’re proud of him, it makes him smile to the ground as he walks the trail back to his apartment. Fuck, you’ve made him weak. “Thanks.”

“I guess you really are doing well then,” you say.

When he gets home, riding the high of his successes from standing up to Johnny to calling you, he flushes his Xanax pills down the toilet and watches as they swirl away into oblivion, as if they had never existed in his life in the first place.

—THE FIRST CRASH.

Mark connects his lips to your neck and suckles on it softly, drawing a moan out of you. The sound you make goes straight to his dick, and he releases a breathy groan against your skin. “Fuck, you sound so pretty, princess.”

Princess—that’s the name he’s given you, because all he wants to do is treat you right. And he does, especially in times like these, where you feel the heat of his body on top of yours and he devours your moans in his mouth. 

He currently lays between your spread legs, your combined figure lost in his bed sheets as he softly grinds his hardened core against yours. He’s still got his jeans on while you’re laying only clad in your panties, yet the feel of the denim is enough to have you moaning. You tilt your head back as a light mewl leaves your lips, your body subconsciously grinding down on his. 

It had been complete heaven for the both of you when you had given him your virginity, your purity, at the beginning of this year, and since then you have been basically insatiable. You had never felt such desire for anyone before him. Now as his hands rub small circles over your clothed clit, you want him once more.

You’re shaking your head, so needy for him but he doesn’t relent, only smirking more while he continues rubbing sinful circles on your clit. “Tell me what you want.” He wants to hear your beg. 

Voice soft and breathy, you say, “Please, Mark, I—”

The doorbell rings. It’s heard through the apartment and Mark groans, rolling his eyes while attempting to keep you going. “Keep going. It’s probably just Lucas forgetting his key again.”

Though the mood was momentarily killed, you both try to fall back into place. Now his fingers have left your clit, instead pulling your panties down to your midthigh. “Shit, you’re soaking,” he moans out in amazement, running a finger through your wet folds. As much as he wants to dive in and fuck you until you’re cumming all over his cock, he needs to hear your sweet voice dripping dirty words for him first. Easily, he slides a finger in, to which you groan at the stretch. But it’s not enough. 

“Don’t tease me, please.”

He smirks, slowly sliding his singular digit out of your sensitive core whilst he thumbs your clit. “Go on then, princess. Tell me what you need.”

“Fuck,” you curse and he finds it so hot. “I… I want you to—”

The doorbell again. This time, Mark audibly curses. “Fucking hell,” he sighs, removing his fingers from where you need him. Instead, he moves up and places a sweet kiss on your lips. “I’ll be right back.”

He’s still fully dressed, so he simply opens the door and slips outside before closing it again behind him. As he’s walking down the hall, the doorbell rings once again, causing him to roll his eyes. God, how many times was Lucas going to lose his keys?

The person at the door, however, isn’t his roommate. It’s Johnny, holding a black gym bag. Mark already knows what it is. He runs a hand through his hair, already crazy from how you had been running your hands through it. “Hey, John,” he says, taking the bag clearly in a rush. It’s Sunday, which means Johnny’s dropping off Mark’s deliveries for the week. 

“Hey, man,” greets Johnny, handing over the list. Mark doesn’t even bother to check that everything’s there, so the older man raises an eyebrow. “Busy?” He asks, eyeing Mark’s disheveled clothes and the fresh hickey on his collarbone. 

“Kind of.” 

“Nice. See you next week,” says Johnny with a click of his tongue and a wink, then Mark closes the door and he’s gone. Now, back to what’s important. He slings the strap over his shoulder and makes his way back to his bedroom. As soon as he enters, you look up at him with wide, anticipating eyes. 

You’ve pulled your undergarments back on, much to his displeasure. Mark drops the dark bag on the floor in the corner, and your eyes find it. “Johnny came?”

“Yeah. Just dropping off for the week,” replies Mark, his mind not exactly on it as he takes off his shirt, tossing it somewhere. He moves back over your figure on the bed, lips on the curve of your breast fully intending to return things to the intensity they were at just earlier. 

Though his lips trail up to meet yours and his hands begin tugging your panties back down, he can tell from the way you’re kissing him that you’re not fully there. So when you moan his name, he knows it’s not out of pleasure. “Mark,” you say softly against his lips.

“Hmm,” he responds, callused hands gripping your thighs and leading them open. He’s about to slip his hand inside your panties, but your hand stops him. 

“Can I have some?” When he looks at you, your eyes are not focused on him, but the bag in the corner. Your eyes are faded, clouded as your both ascend to a place of pleasure. You… wanted drugs? Sure, he’s blown a few times in your mouth but in your relationship spanning over a year already, you’ve never directly asked for any.

His dark eyebrows furrow. “Are you sure?”

You bite down on your lip. “What’s in it?” 

“I don’t know,” reveals Mark truthfully as he gets off of you and makes his way over to the package, picking it up and placing it on the bed. You’re sitting up now, peering over the bag with interest as he unzips the gym bag open. Though the exterior looks unsuspicious, the bag opens up to reveal bags of white powder and green kush. 

Cocaine. 

It’s dangerous. Mark gazes down at it, biting down on his lip. 

“Is that… cocaine?” You ask, not unaware of the extreme drug sitting in your boyfriend’s room. 

He nods, almost ashamed. “Yeah.”

A silence falls over the two of you, both just staring at the white bags. It’s almost unbearable, how much Mark wants to throw the bag away and just resume your activities, but you’re still gazing into the bag with contemplation, fear, and even… curiosity. 

“So, can I have some?” You ask again. 

Mark sputters for a second, blinking. “Babe. I—are you sure?” 

You nod, eyes dark and curious. “Yeah.” At your confirmation, sounding like it was more to assure yourself than him, Mark stares holes into the white substance. It’s filling the bag to the brim—surely whoever he has to deliver it to won’t notice a line’s worth missing. 

So it’s with steady yet hesitant hands that he pulls a pack from the bag, directing you. “Grab your credit card,” he says, walking over to his nightstand. Unzipping the bag just the slightest, he pours out a small amount. Just a little bit, he swears. 

When you return to his side with your said card in your hand, he takes it from you and lines up the coke on the table. In a neat little line, it’s set up for you. “Okay,” he starts, looking at you. “Just hold down one nostril and—”

“I know how to do it. I’ve seen it at parties.” You interrupt him as you kneel, finally head level with the nightstand. It’s true; the few parties you have attended alongside your boyfriend, there’s more than enough depictions. He watches with interest as you lean forward, holding one side of your nose closed, and snort up the entire line in one go. 

First, you cough into the nightstand. When you turn and look at him, you’re wiping the remaining white dust from your nose. “You okay?” Your boyfriend asks you, to which you nod. “It takes a few minutes to work.”

Again, you nod silently, sitting down on the bed and gesturing Mark to come to you. When he approaches, you lay back in his bed, looking up at him with lustful eyes. “Now, hurry up and fuck me.”

The words are so rare from you. It’s all he needs to hear, unbuckling his belt and dragging his jeans to the floor in two swift movements. Within moments he’s back on top of you, feeling your heat once again. He starts slow, pressing kisses to your stomach, breasts, and neck while waiting for the drug to take effect. He knows the exact moment that it begins to work; your pupils immediately dilate, and suddenly you’re a loose, moaning mess underneath him. 

Your muscles relaxed, Mark immediately presses a long kiss to your swollen lips while dragging down your panties. He would usually opt for more foreplay, but he’s waited long enough. He pulls away for the shortest moment to slip on a condom, but before you know it he’s already flush against you again. 

It feels so good, even just his touch on you. You’re so sensitive, senses heightened by the drug that you feel everything: his large hands on your breasts over your tips, his lips marking your neck. When he leads his dick to your dripping entrance, you watch in anticipation, though you’re shaking. 

As he finally slides in, finally filling you up, you tilt your head back and let out a loud moan, the loudest yet. It just feels so good, you feel so full, and he’s so, so deep.

Everything is…. so good. Euphoria creeps into your headspace. 

He pulls out, and you moan again. “Ah,” you gasp sharply, feeling every ridge, every muscle stretched as he slides out, only the tip inside you. Then he slams back in, causing your back to arch and your toes to curl. “Oh, fuck,” you moan out again, eyes closed tightly, lost in the pleasure. 

Mark’s hand grips at your hips, eyebrows furrowed in focus as he falls into a rhythm. He would have taken some himself, but he wanted to watch you fall apart under him. Suddenly you grab at his free hand, and he intertwines your fingers. You’re squeezing him, his hand and his dick altogether, so tightly as you’re lost in your pleasure.

“Fuck, princess, you feel so good,” he moans out, closing his eyes. He immediately opens them again, not wanting to miss a second of you. “You love my cock, huh?”

Breathless, you nod without words. 

“And to think, just a year ago you were an innocent little prude. Now look at you, taking my cock like the slut you are. High on my drugs, fuck—” Mark taunts, moaning aloud as you suddenly clench around him. “Fuck, you feel so tight.” 

When he adds his hands to your clit, rubbing the nub in circles the way he knows you love it, the pleasure is heightened for your sensitive body. Your temperature rises, your heartbeat uncontrollable—all the telltale signs of that euphoric high. 

A few minutes pass like this, you completely out of it and moaning at the top of your lungs whilst your boyfriend fades in and out of your vision. You grasp onto his arm, tilting your head back. “Mark, I’m—I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he musters out, never stopping his hips. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock like the good girl you are.” 

And you do, losing it as you tighten around his length, walls clenching repeatedly. This brings him over the edge, cumming into the condom with a shaky breath. He keeps the rhythm going for both your sakes, though his thrusts go erratic as he comes down. 

You do the same, your thirty minutes of elation coming to an end soon. As soon as you’ve come down from your orgasmic high, you immediately relax. Your breathing is labored as you relax into his sheets. 

Mark pulls from you with a low groan. By the time he’s tossed the condom off into the trash and returned to his bed, you’re already asleep, chest rising softly. A post-cocaine high can do that to you. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he slides into bed with you, slipping a hand over your waist. 

With the way your body fits right into his, one could say you were made for each other. In Mark’s mind, maybe you were. 

—3 WEEKS, 6 DAYS CLEAN

His hands shake as he curls the wrapping paper, giving it a soft lick to secure it. 

Tomorrow will be four weeks, a whole month since the last time he had done anything. He had passed his exams. After he had thrown the pills away, he was sure that everything would be smooth sailing. But he was wrong. 

He’s disappointed in himself, he is. He wanted to be better, but it’s harder than it seems. Lucas would be disappointed in him. You would be too.

Luckily, neither will find out. 

Right now he’s tucked in his bedroom away from Lucas with the excuse that he was napping, but he’s not. Instead, he’s wrapping a joint with the leftover weed tucked in his nightstand. 

It’s not because he wants to, or because he’s being peer pressured by anyone around him. It’s for one person only—his dad.

On this day, five years ago, Pastor Lee passed away. 

The first three years, the hardest ones, he had Lucas. The past two years, he had you.

No—the first three years weren’t hardest to face, this one is. He still has Lucas, but not really. Had he swallowed his pride, had he just told his best friend that he wasn’t okay when he had asked about his father’s death anniversary, things would have been okay. Lucas would have nodded in sympathy, then dropped everything he had to be there for Mark. They’d chill and drink a couple beers—no, not drink, not anymore—but maybe watch a movie and play some games until the day had passed. That would have been bearable. 

But that hadn’t happened.

When Lucas had asked Mark how he felt about the day, Mark had lied and blubbered out a, “Oh, was that today? I totally forgot.” Why had he done that? He doesn’t know. 

Because he had had too much pride to admit to his friend that he was struggling… Now he’s here, trying to take care of his pain in the only way he has left. 

He lights it, fingers still shaking, and his body relaxes into the mattress as he finally gets a taste of the clouded, sinful smoke once more. The only downfall to this is that he knows, oh he knows well, just how much pain that it causes for him and those around him. 

—THE FIRST BURN.

Over the years, Mark has grown accustomed to the warmth.

It’s what you do to him, what he associates you with. Your first kiss, despite the cold winter air, warmed his soul from the inside. Whenever he looks at you… there’s a feeling of espousement that explodes within his chest. Yes, he loves you, even if he doesn’t say it often. He doesn’t need to. You know. You’ve opened his eyes to the beauty of love, the exhilaration of showing yourself to someone and being fully accepted. In his life once frozen over with the loss of his father and the death of his innocence, you showed him warmth. 

When he wakes, you’re burning up. 

More than you should, even with the two of you naked beneath his blankets. You’re sweating, he realizes as he slides his hand, which he had slung around your waist as the two of you drifted into dreamland, over your skin. 

You must be hot underneath the blanket, so he starts to slide it off the blanket from your figures. Then he hears it: you cough, the choked sound coming out scratched and labored. Though you’re turned away from him, he can hear the struggle in it. It’s as if… there’s something blocking your throat. 

His eyes immediately widen, adrenaline spiking as he sits up, grabs your shoulders, and turns you around. No, no, it can’t be. Where you had been laying, facing the wall, there’s remnants of your vomit, though some had gotten lodged in your throat. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. His fingers grab your wrist. You’re still breathing. You’ve still got a pulse, but it’s fast, too fast. So fast, he can barely count it. “Shit,” he curses. You’re overdosing. You’ve overdosed. Fuck. 

It’s the cocaine. 

“Y/N,” he calls, voice already loud enough to make the house burst into flames with the amount of desperation he puts into it. Shaking your shoulders, he tries again. “Y/N, baby, fuck—wake up!” When you don’t come to, he turns his head over his shoulder, screaming, “Lucas!” 

It’s only the early morning, will he be awake? “Lucas!”

“Mark…?” Your voice draws him out from his panic, and he turns to you with wide eyes. Your eyes, pupils dilated and shaky, fly all over the room. “W-What’s—” You don’t finish, because immediately you’re flinging yourself over the side of his bed and throwing up the remainder of what’s in your throat out on his bedroom floor. 

The door slams open. Lucas’ worried face appears. Mark is trembling, breath shaking, and you’re still vomiting over the carpet. At the moment, Mark doesn’t care that the both of you are naked in his bed. “What the hell happened?”

Mark feels himself start to slip away, only a moment from hyperventilating, but he speaks. “Hospital… cocaine—overdose, I—” 

“I’ll go start the car.” Lucas is immediately out the door, loud steps running down the hallway to grab his keys. At least somebody is in a stable state of mind. Mark starts to move, standing to dress the two of you, but you grab his arm as he steps out, perhaps using the last of your energy. Your eyes are wild, your mouth parted as you heave heavy, labored breaths. 

“I… I can’t breathe—Mark, I can’t,” you start between hurried breaths, but don’t finish. Immediately you go slack, falling back in his bed with closed eyes rolled into the back of your head. 

“Fuck,” he curses, immediately throwing on his jeans and sliding your dress over your sweltering body. Though he’s stumbling and racing to gather things, his phone, his wallet, and your’s, he picks you up into his arms bridal style, racing out of his bedroom into the living room. 

Flying out the front door, the cold morning air greets him in an unpleasant fashion, only making your perspiring body seem even warmer, reminding him of his faults. Lucas is already sitting in the front seat, ready to go, but Mark throws the two of you in the backseat. At this point you’re completely gone to the world, head thrown back against the cushion as he struggles to put on your seatbelt. It seems like an arbitrary precaution in this case. 

As Lucas starts to drive, moving as fast as he can possibly go, Mark clutches your hand. “Baby,” he finally breaths out as reality begins to set in. This is his fault, he did this to you. He doesn’t deserve to hold your hand, so instead he lets go, placing it in your lap before leaning forward to place his head in his hands.

“Oh my fucking god,” he finally lets out, exasperated.

—1 WEEK, 2 DAYS CLEAN

“My name is Hyunjoon, and I am addicted to alcohol. It has been… six weeks since my last drink.”

Mark bounces his leg erratically, glancing around the room. There’s some people he knows, recalling their faces on campus or around town, but some people he's never seen in his life. He’s supposed to reveal himself to these people? He doesn’t belong here.

Or maybe he does. After his last breakdown, it had taken him three days to fess up to Lucas. His friend, though disappointed, was more than understanding. “It’s a long road,” he had told Mark at the time. He said that he knew of an addiction support group in town, and encouraged Mark to attend. He’s right; Mark knows he can’t do this alone.

“Glad to see you’ve gone another week, Hyunjoon. Happy to see you back.”

He’s next, so he stands. “Um,” he starts, rubbing his nape and feeling awfully out of place. “I’m Mark, and I’m addicted to…” he sighs. “A lot of things.” 

The kind looking leader of the meeting offers him a smile. “You can share if you’d like.”

He takes a deep breath. There’s so many people, so many eyes. “Mostly weed. I drink a lot, or I used to. I… I was trying to stop everything then I had a—” How to describe it? “Relapse, last week. I don’t think I can do this alone.”

“We commend you for your courage, Mark.” There’s a soft round of applause in the circle. The smiling leader then continues, “We ask everyone who is new to this group, ‘why.’ Why do you want to stop your addiction? Why do you seek help? Besides the obvious reasons that it’s bad for you.”

This question doesn’t take long for him to answer. “I hurt someone. Someone that I really loved, and honestly… I hate myself for it. So I have to stop.”

There seems to be a couple of nods around the circle as Mark sits back down. He releases a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. This will work. Things will be okay. He will get better. He will get you back.

“Thank you for that, Mark. Welcome.”

—THE FIRST REGRET.

Mark finds himself in the same position he had been in earlier in the car, except this time he’s sitting on the floor right outside your room on the hospital floor, hiding his head in his hands. What is wrong with him?

What had he done to you? What had he allowed you to do to yourself?

God, he’s fucked up. 

Lucas is inside with you. He had wanted to be there when you woke up, but he couldn’t. He could barely look at his face in the hospital bathroom mirrors; how was he supposed to face you, IVs hooked up to your arms as a result of the drugs that he gave you? It was supposed to be fine, it was just a little bit! It was supposed to help the experience you two were having. But instead, it almost ended your life. 

He looks back now. Just two years ago, when you had first met, you didn’t even drink. You’d never been kissed, never been touched. Now he’s… done this to you. He’s despicable. You don’t deserve him. You deserve better. 

The door opens, and Mark finally pulls his head up to see Lucas step out with a somber expression. It’s a stark juxtaposition that saddens him, for Lucas is so often the light hearted joking one of the two. “She wants to see you.”

Mark parts his lips, shaky breath exhaling. “I can’t.”

Lucas takes a seat next to him on the floor, sighing. He probably looks crazy, shirtless and puffy eyed on the floor, but his best friend moves next to him anyways. “I know. She’s not angry, you know.”

“That’s the worst part,” mumbles Mark, staring out at the bleak white walls of the hospital in front of them. He doesn’t say much, but Lucas understands him it seems. 

“Something’s gotta change, Mark. Something’s gotta give.”

He knows, with a soft nod of his head. Of course, he knows what Lucas means, but what it means to him is different. He has to give something up, and it’s going to be you. Not because he can live without you or because he doesn’t love you, but because it needs to be you. You can’t be around him any longer. You’ll only continue to be hurt.

When this thought finally occurs, and he accepts it, it becomes a little easier to face you. 

He rises to his feet. “I’ll… I’ll see you later,” he finally says, twisting the doorknob to your room open.

—1 MONTH, 4 DAYS CLEAN

He doesn’t know why you asked to see him for lunch, but he does know that you look good. You look healthy, you look better than you did that day when he slipped into your hospital room and saw you there, laying lifeless and gray. But that day, you still smiled when you saw him. 

You look rather happy, like you’re doing okay without him, though he hopes that’s not that case—no, that’s not a good thing to hope for. He hopes that you’re doing okay, but that you’ll be even happier when you’re together again. Again, you smile at him over your food. Even after all this time, you still look at him like he’s the center of your universe. 

Though you had made small talk about your lives, what you were both doing, how your mom is, how Lucas is, and other unimportant things, it’s at the end of the meal when your voice finally sobers, though you keep a smile on your lips. 

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you out here.”

“I…” Mark starts, blinking, before nodding. “Yeah.”

You laugh, causing the slightest smile to break out across his lips. It’s still the same laugh you had, that fated night when you met. “I just wanted to see you again. And talk. We haven’t talked in a while.”

Mark’s smile turns into a bittersweet simper. “I thought that was because you didn’t want to talk.” Though you had spoken to him on that phone that one day, he had chalked that up to you being polite when he suddenly called. 

“Well, at first, yeah, but you know it’s been almost a year since we broke up and… I had some things I wanted to tell you.” Him too, but he’s not entirely sure he’s at his best just yet. Nevertheless, he smiles and nods. 

“I’m listening. You know I always am.”

You take a moment or two to simply stare at him with thoughtful eyes as you think over your words. All the while, your sweet smile never leaves your roseate tiers. Finally, hands folded over your lap, you start.

“Thank you.”

Mark blinks, but you continue. “I know that we didn’t end off on the best terms but I wanted to make sure you knew that I was thankful for you. For having you. You’ve done a lot for me. You’ve taught me a lot, and I can’t thank you more for everything you’ve done.”

You blink repeatedly, eyes fluttering before you continue, which leads Mark to think that these words might be just as emotional for you as they are for him. “Thank you for teaching me love. Because of you, I’ve grown a lot and become a better version of myself. A stronger one. I’m really thankful that you were my first everything: my first real date—” His mind flies back to that night. That movie really was a horrible movie.

“My first kiss.” Does it feel right, now? Yes. Can I kiss you? Yes.

“My first time.” It was awkward, but it felt, as it always did, right. 

“Thank you, for being the first guy I loved. I really… really loved you, Mark. But most of all,” you say, gazing at his wordless figure with those eyes of yours. They’re not as innocent and naive as they used to be. They’re matured now, hardened, but still, the sparkle is there. The same sparkle that had attracted him that night, three years ago, with that damned white dress.

“I forgive you.” Mark releases a shaky breath. “For everything. I don’t want you to blame yourself anymore. It’s not your fault, really. I’m better now, I’m healthy. Please, don’t hurt yourself anymore because of me.”

“Y/N, I—”

“I met you in my first year here. We’re going to be seniors, Mark. We’re going to graduate and be thrown into the real world, where there’s real consequences. I don’t want the consequences of what happened to weigh you down. I just want to move on, and you deserve to move on too.” From the glint in your eye, it’s clear how long you’ve pondered over these words. 

He wants to reach out to you, to grasp you and bring you back to him. Because he’s trying to let go of the past so that he can focus on loving you fully as you are. 

Sure, you can forgive him, but he needs to forgive himself first. He’s not quite fully well yet. He has to be patient.

A soft exhale leaves his lips. “Thank you. For forgiving me.”

Yet another sweet, beautiful smile spreads across your lips. It’s the smile that haunts Mark’s dreams. “You’re welcome. And thank you again for everything.” As the waitress appears, returning Mark’s credit card that he had graciously used to pay for the meal, you stand with your bag.

No, you can’t be leaving just yet. “Stay in touch, okay, Mark?”

But he has to let you leave. The day will come when it’s right. “Yeah,” he manages, swallowing the lump in his throat. Yet as he watches you walk away, he can feel that that string of fate he had always believed tied the two of you together slowly wearing, twisting, breaking.

—THE FINAL TEAR.

“What do you mean we should break up?” 

Your voice is scandalized, angry. Mark simply keeps his gaze to the living room floor, eyebrows furrowed in complete unhappiness. He never wanted it to end like this, but he’s run horrible with thoughts that the things he did brought pain to you. It’s time to end it. Not because he wants to, but because he should. 

“We just should,” he responds bleakly. “After what happened, I think it’s clear that we’re not good for each other.” 

It’s been a month now since you’ve been discharged from the hospital. After you had convinced your doctor that you weren’t addicted to drugs and in need of rehab, you had gone home. Mark had luckily had enough saved to pay off your hospital bills; neither of you wanted your parents knowing. “Mark, it’s okay. I told you it’s okay!”

“No, it’s not. It’s not just because of the overdose. Things have been like this for a while now.”

You attempt to grab his hand. If he allows himself to bask in just one moment of your kindness, he’ll give in. You beg, “Mark, please, hang on for me, for us. I promise things will get better, things can change.”

He snaps, pulling his hand from your’s. Your eyes widen up at him, shocked and appalled at his sudden movement. “No! Can’t you see? You didn’t even take that much. I took more coke in my first snort than you took in that entire line. The overdose shouldn’t have even happened, but look, it did. This is wrong.”

“What, the drugs? I’ve been telling you that. Please, we can get better. We can find help.” The fact that you’re still pleading him with kind, gentle eyes, makes this all worse. It only further proves that you’re good. He’s not.

“No, not the drugs. Us.”

“Us?”

He runs a hand through his dark hair, shaking his head in frustration. “We’re not right for each other. This isn’t working.”

“What do you mean? Tell me why.”

“We’re just not… destined to be together. What happened, it was God’s way of telling us that this is not right. We’re not right for each other,” he explains, voice exasperated as he tries his best to explain the mess of his thoughts. 

This seems to take you aback, your voice finally rising. “Oh, so now you care what God thinks?”

No, not really. But sometimes he has to listen. He doesn’t respond, so you continue. “I’ve been more than willing to make this work for two years, Mark. You think any of this was easy for me? My first boyfriend and he’s a freaking drug dealer for God’s sake. I tried to take it all because I loved you! I took care of you when you were hungover, I waited around shady areas at night so that you could drop off deals, I stuck with you for everything. Fuck,” you shout, causing Mark to tense. You rarely curse, and based on your usage of it now, he knows just how upset you are. “I even overdosed and I’m still here. Yet it’s always you pushing me away, making it difficult. Why are you running away from us?”

He’s not running away. “I’m not running away,” he declares. “I’m letting you run away.”

“And what makes you think I need to run away from you?”

“Because! You heard yourself, don’t deserve those things. You should have someone to take care of you when you’re sick, not always be the one fixing me when I’m sick. You should have someone to walk with you through the shady areas. That’s not me. I’m not… right for you.” He finally spits it out, eyebrows tightened together as he releases the thoughts that have been on his mind for a month now. 

You’re silent for a moment, taking in his words with your arms crossed over your chest. When you speak, your voice has returned to its normal speaking volume. “You told me that you believed in fate, that you believed in us. Is this fate? Fate that we met, and fell in love, and broke up? Is it fate that you hurt me over and over again and I came back, every single time? Because if that’s fate…” A single tear falls from your eyes, though you wipe it away so it’s as if it never even existed. It seems even you have some pride now, not to cry in front of him. “It seems like your idea of fate is pretty messed up.”

Mark takes a large breath, looking away to gather his thoughts before looking back to you. You’ve both come so far since that night, the image of her clouded by the purple lights, the energy of the party. Now, all that glamour is stripped away. It’s just you and him, as you are. “You had to meet someone like me, so you can know what you deserve.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to call it quits, and blame it on destiny?” Your tone is mocking, questioning his reasons and probably his sanity. 

“I’m not calling it quits,” he immediately retorts, responding sharp and quick. “I’m letting you go.”

“No,” you say as you approach him. “You’re giving up. On us, on everything we worked hard to build. Our trust, our relationship, everything.” Your finger digs into his chest, pointing an accusing blame. “I broke up with you,” you emphasize. “Not the other way around. I broke up with you because you tugged me around, you pushed me away, and you never listened to me. I got tired of it, and broke up with you.” 

With that, you pull away from him, though when he finally comes to realize the weight of the conversation you just had, he sees you grabbing your bag and slipping your white ballet flats with purple bows on. “Y/N.”

He wants to say he’s sorry, because it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He hadn’t planned for the conversation to go up in flames. 

Whenever you walked out during arguments, there was always a promise to call later, to talk when your minds were stable. But now, as you turn over your shoulder, walking out of his apartment and life, you muster a goodbye.

“Don’t call me.”

—3 MONTHS CLEAN.

“Senior year!” Lucas yells as he throws open the front door with the power of the Hulk, startling Mark who’s still unpacking some boxes of cookware in the kitchen. “It’s our time, time to shine!”

A soft laugh leaves Mark as he places some cups in the cupboard. He and Lucas had left their apartment for two months for the summer to return to their homes, but here they are, back and ready to take on their final year. They had finished middle school and high school together, and now they’ll graduate college together. It makes Mark smile. 

As he leaves the kitchen to greet his best friend in the living room, he sees that the guy has already brought in a number of his boxes. “Hey, man,” calls Mark, who leads Lucas in for a dap. 

“Hey yourself, you barely talked to me this summer,” Lucas chastises playfully. “Ignoring me, I see.”

Mark laughs, shaking his head. “Not ignoring, just… working on myself.” 

“Good,” responds Lucas, turning to bring in the rest of his boxes. Yes, Mark had spent the entire summer dedicating himself to the lost cause that was himself. He started working out again, got a job, and even worked on rebuilding his relationship with his mother. Things were looking up for him.

He feels ready. Lucas’ voice interrupts his thoughts. “Hey, wanna take a break and get some food?”

His question meets a raised eyebrow from Mark. “You just got here, like, two minutes ago.”

“And?”

A laugh leaves Mark’s lips, and he shakes his head. “Nothing. But, uh, I can’t. I was going to go… see Y/N.”

“Oh?” asks Lucas, leaning down to tear the tape on one of the dark cardboard boxes filled to the brim, probably with Lucas’ pillows; the man was like a giant baby, sleeping with ten pillows. “You called her and asked to meet up?”

“No,” responds Mark, who follows these words with a deep breath. “I’m going to go see her.” 

Lucas stands straight once more, his playful expression from earlier now serious. He shoots Mark a soft smile, patting him on the shoulder. “Nice. I’m happy for you. Are you leaving now?”

“Uh, yeah, I was planning to go after I put all the kitchen stuff away.”

Lucas’ grin grows even wider, stretching from ear to ear as he gives Mark a little pat on the bum, which is supposed to be encouraging. “Well, then go get her, tiger! Good luck, man,” he yells supportively as he pushes Mark out the door. 

As he shuts the door, Mark blinks. “Dude! I don’t even have shoes on! Or my car keys,” he laughs, banging on the door.

Some time later, Mark finds himself hesitating as he parks his car a block down the street from your sharehouse, the same place he had kissed you, that many years ago. He doesn’t even know if you still live here. You had been broken up since the beginning of your junior year, who knows if you had decided to move out?

He contemplates this as he walks down the sidewalk to your place, hands in his pockets and gaze on the floor. Surely, if you’re not there, one of the girls will point him in your direction? Hopefully.

Oh, but you are there. As your home comes into view, he sees you. You’re there on the front porch, dressed in a simple white skirt and the same white ballet flats with purple bows that you can never seem to grow out of. 

But you’re not alone. 

There’s a man with you, though his back is turned to Mark’s view. He blinks. His steps stop completely. Surely it could be anyone right? A neighbor? A classmate? 

But that’s impossible. Not because class doesn’t start for three days or because you and him met the neighbors on all sides of your house, but because you lean up on your toes, the way you always did with Mark himself, and kiss the stranger’s cheek. 

It would have been easy to lie to himself, but then it’s much too clear. He realizes it then as he stares, only a few steps away from the path that would have led to your steps, the steps he took when walking you back on your first date, intertwined hands swinging between the two of you. 

He’s too late. Maybe much too late. 

He was a fool all this time. Thinking that he could be better for you, that he could defy fate with his free will and urge the universe into letting you be together. Lucas was wrong; life isn’t free will, neither is love. 

This is his fate, there’s no use denying it. 

He stands staring for a few moments, simply gazing in complete desolation at the sight before him. This is it, this is the end. He’s ready to submit to his poor fate, the internalized idea he’s housed that he’d never be able to find a love like yours ever again, but then you see him, probably because he stands out like a stain of black paint on the green canvas of your lawn. 

He doesn’t hear you, but your lips form his name, “Mark?” and your eyes blink in confusion.

He doesn’t wait too long anyways, for he’s already turned on his heels back to his car. Fuck fate and its tendencies, giving hope where there will only be heartbreak. 

—SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE FIRST TEAR AND THE FIRST CRASH.

The smell of you invades his senses, but he doesn’t care. It’s one of the first nights in a long time where you’ve agreed to go to a party with him. Though other girls beg for his attention, he’s still only got his eyes on you. Your outfit tonight is much too nostalgic.

“You know,” he whispers in your ear, dancing against your backside with a hand on your waist. “You look best in white.” 

“I know,” you respond, chuckling whilst dancing back against him. He had taught you how to dance a while ago, and you just keep getting better and better. 

“You wore this dress on purpose, didn’t you, you little minx,” he teases, though a playful laugh leaves his throat. His words draw a knowing giggle from you, and Mark feels as though he could get drunk on the sound alone. 

“Maybe,” you respond back, turning and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. This is when Mark gets a good look at you. 

It’s so easy to remember the way you first appeared to him, standing awkwardly in a corner of a party just like this. This time the lights decorating the aura of this party are not purple, but his heart is all the same. You’re wearing the same outfit now, definitely at this point to tantalize him and tease him; you loved to make fun of him after he told you that he had fallen for you because of that dress alone. 

But you’re different now.

You’re brighter, taller, more mature. Now you are not just your person carrying your own thoughts, but his as well. You know him, know his thoughts and his feelings, know his worries without asking. Your smile is bigger, it reaches your eyes more now than it did that first night, a forced simper at the strange guy coming to flirt with you. You dance with more confidence, you carry with yourself a quiet strength despite your hesitant nature. 

He loves you. God, he loves you. He tells you just as much.

With a hand over your hip, he pulls you close. You think he’s going to press another tipsy kiss to your lips, but he doesn’t. Instead he brushes his lips to your ear and he whispers, so softly you would have missed it if you hadn’t been purposely filtering the party’s music to focus on his voice: “I love you.”

You blink, and stop your dancing. It’s the first time he’s ever said this to you. 

“Mark…” you start, lips parting in surprise, but he’s pulled away to smile sweetly at you. It’s not flirtatious, the kind of smile he gives you before attempting to pull you in the bathroom for a quick one. Nor is it the knowing grin he shoots before guiltily asking you to go refill his drink. It’s a small one that barely touches the tips of his lips, and the look alone makes your heart melt in espousement. “I… I love you too.”

You had told him, of course, the other month when you had tore him apart in his bedroom after finding him hungover. But this time it’s real, and in the future you both will choose to remember this as the first time. 

Some might think that it’s unorthodox to confess such strong feelings such as love in the middle of a party, sweltering with the heat of dancing bodies and the musky smoke in the air. But for the two of you, it doesn’t matter. It’s just you two in here; you only see each other.

—3 MONTHS CLEAN, ONE HOUR LATER.

Mark’s currently in his room, completely bare except for his bed and desk, sulking away. When he had returned home with a bitter lilt in his steps, Lucas didn’t need any explanation, stepping out to “meet Yuqi.” 

Of course, it had been Lucas who had put him in this place of thinking he could get you back but in the end, it was only himself that he had to blame. He never had the chance, it was his fault for thinking he ever did.

He’s learned his lesson. 

It’s only an hour later when Lucas knocks on the door again. Fuck, Mark thinks inwardly while rolling his eyes. It’s only the first day back, has this giant managed to lose his keys, again? He makes his way out to the door, already preparing to give Lucas hell for being so irresponsible, but Lucas never makes his appearance at the door.

“Y/N.”

“Mark, I’m sorry, but—”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shown up at your place uninvited.” He’s quick to interrupt you, shaking his head. It’s easy to pretend to be strong; he just needs to maintain a strong front until he shuts the door again. 

“It’s not that, I—”

“I won’t do it again, I promise. I know you said you wanted to move on and I shouldn’t be surprised, it just hurts to see it, and so, I’ll—”

“Mark—”

“I hope that you’re very happy, and that he can make you happier than I di—”

“That’s my brother, you daft idiot!” You finally cut him off, voice rising to a volume louder than his. He had flinched at your sudden peak in volume. You give him a pointed look, and when he doesn’t dare speak again, you continue. “That’s my brother, Mark. He helps me move in every year, you know that!”

That’s true, he does know that. And he’s met your brother many, many times. Shit, he realizes.

“... Oh.”

“Mark Lee, you think I could move on from you that quickly? It’s been like, two months!” You scold him, as if the idea is preposterous. 

“Well,” he reasons. “Technically we broke up a year ago.”

You seem to have the energy to argue back. “Okay, but I only really let you go when school ended this year.” 

The two of you stare at each other for a long moment following your words, before you both start to laugh. You crack first, trying to remain serious when all you want to do is envelope him in a hug, for how could you ever love anyone else? You can’t even imagine trying to date anyone right now. He follows right after, shoulders relaxing as you start to chuckle. 

“We look insane right now, you know,” he says, sighing as his chortle comes to an end.

“Yeah, and I’m insane because I drove like a madwoman chasing after my ex because he saw me with my brother,” you say with a pointed tone, to which Mark sighs.

“Okay, in my defense, I saw him from behind, and you are awfully touchy with your brother!” He starts, when you begin to laugh again, pure amusement breaking out across your visage. Wow, just five minutes ago he had been regretting all his life decisions, yet here he was with you again, making conversations like you had years ago in your relationship. 

When the laughter dies down, the two of you are left staring at each other, and reality sets in. Yeah, he had run away when he saw you with your brother of all people, and you had chased after him, your ex. Where does that place you?

Mark speaks first, breaking the short silence. “I’m sober now, you know. I haven’t done anything, anything at all, in three months now.”

Surprise seems to claim your face at the revelation, and he’s not sure if he should feel proud that he managed to shock you with his success or saddened that it seems to be that much of a surprise. “Oh?” Your surprised expression is replaced with a smile. “I’m proud.”

He nods, unsure what to say next, but luckily you add on, “What made you decide to stop?” You’re undoubtedly reminiscing on all the times you had begged him to give it up, to which he would stubbornly resist. 

“You.”

Your features contort into an incredulous expression. “Me.”

“Really,” Mark urges. “I…” he pauses, preparing himself for the words about to leave him. He had long pondered over this moment, wondering if it would truly happen. “I lost you, and I know that I said it was because we weren’t meant to be together but somewhere along the line I realized, I can live without weed, and parties, and alcohol but I can’t live without you.”

“Mark…” You start, lips parted as you grow silent.

“No, please, let me finish, I don’t want to take all the credit because it was Lucas who had to come and knock some sense into me and make me see: sure, fate can be real and that soulmate shit might be real too because I believe you’re mine, but I know that everything is a choice, including love.” His mention of Lucas has you smiling, and he has no doubt Lucas has talked to you recently, attempting to be the middleman once more. “I love you, there’s no doubt about that, I love you more than I love partying, my friends, or anything. And if I love you that much, there’s nothing that can keep me from you.”

He grasps at your hands, and thankfully, you don’t pull away. “Not God, not fate, not anybody. Only me. I was the only thing keeping us apart. I want to be with you, I want to make things better, and I promise… I promise I’ll do everything in my power to be the best for you.” Mark takes a deep breath, taking a moment to glance down at his hands holding yours before looking back to your eyes. “I can’t promise that I won’t have relapses. But I promise that as long as you’re there for me, I will be there for you. I’ll walk you through the shady areas, I won’t run away.”

“Mark—”

“I don’t know if my words will be enough for you to take me back but I swear to you on my entire being that I will be here—”

“Geez, Mark does sobriety make you extremely prone to interrupting, or what?” You butt in, but you laugh, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. Whether it’s you natural shine or tears building in your eyes, neither of you know. “Don’t even go there, or explain anymore. Of course I’ll take you back, you idiot. You think I would chase after you like that if I didn’t think about running back to you every day?”

This causes him to laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t. I wasn’t ready. I was waiting until I was good enough to run to you.”

“You ran away earlier,” you point out teasingly, and he rolls his eyes, pulling you close over the threshold of his apartment. 

“That was the last time.”

Your hands find his chest, resting upon the expanse of it as you look up at him with a cheeky smile. “Better be, mister.”

“Oh,” he muses, as you wrap your fingers around the fabric of his shirt and all feels right again. “You’re bold.”

“A year apart does that to you,” you smile, still a hint of shyness on your lips as you finally tug him in, kissing him. You melt into him and his hands immediately find themselves on your hips, just where they belong. 

Oh yes, there it is again, that feeling of euphoria. You’re the only drug, the only high he needs. 

#NCT-WRITERS #mark lee angst #mark lee smut #mark smut #mark lee x reader #mark lee fanfic #nct angst #tw: smut #tw: drugs #tw: drinking

[solarwonux]

6. “Feel free to admire me.”

19.  “Give me a kiss please.”

non!idol taehyung x f!reader

warnings:  angst if you squint, slight mentions of going crazy, a teeny tiny bit suggestive, minimal editing, 

note: helloooo, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy this one, and if it’s bad I apologize from the bottom of my heart, it’s my first time writing anything but academic papers in like 3 months. And it’s my first time writing for bts, so i’m dusting off the cobwebs. Either way thank you for reading it means the world to me.xx

masterlist || drabble game 

You were acting strange

Taehyung noted as he watched you scramble around the apartment, running a frustrated hand through your hair, mumbling underneath your breath as you tore the apartment apart looking for your glasses.

You had been doing that a lot. Living up in the clouds, distracted. Your mind racing to the point you would forget what you were saying mid-sentence or misplacing things you had just been using in obvious places. He knew something was bothering you, keeping you from grounding yourself back down to Earth, and he so badly wanted to know. But after almost being together for almost a decade he knew that asking you what was happening would only frustrate you and keep you from coming back down to Earth. To him.

So he sat back, a small smiling forming against his face. He cradled his almost empty wine glass between his index and middle fingers, the setting sun reflecting off your glasses on the coffee table. The same place you had left them earlier before walking to the bathroom to wash your face. He could tell you, to stop your endless pacing and ease your mind a little. But he was oddly amused as you made your way around the living room, retracing your steps, endlessly.

The movie the two of you had been watching, paused. The wine bottle you had refused to share with him was reaching its wilts end as he kept refilling it every time you sat down next to him silently looking around for a few minutes and then getting up again to make your way around the living for the umpteenth time.

“I’m going crazy Tae.” You blew out a raspberry, blowing away the few strands of hair that had escaped your ponytail. “How can my glasses just disappear, I was literally just wearing them.” You threw your hands up in the air as you made your way into the kitchen. Lifting up the stacks of manila folders you had brought home from work to peacefully look over throughout the long weekend.

“Have you checked the bathroom?” He said, hiding his smirk behind his glass of wine taking the last sip. You scoffed, throwing your arms up in the air before walking down the hallway to the bathroom.

Taehyung shook his head reaching for the wine bottle on the coffee table. “Your eyesight isn’t even that bad, you don’t need your glasses to watch the movie.” He said emptying the rest of the wine into his glass and sat back on the couch, tilting his head to the side as you stomped your way back into the living room.

You gave him a pointed look before rounding the corner of the couch and sitting down next to him again. “Babe, I’m sorry.” You exclaimed dramatically, hiding your face into the side of his body, making him laugh softly. “I’m going insane and now you’re stuck with me till death do us apart.” You whined, huffing out a loud sigh. His soft boyish laugh ringing in your ears. The slight irritation you had gained during your impossible quest, bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

“Sounds like a dream.” The sarcasm burning brightly in his vocal chord and you could almost feel him rolling his eyes. “Now, give me a kiss please.” He placed his fingers underneath your chin lifting your face up gently as he puckered his lips drastically.

Annoyed you pushed his face away, crossing your arms in front of you and pouting your lips. Mock hurt evident in his features. “You don’t deserve one all you did was watch me as I slowly lost my mind.”

“I can’t admire my beautiful wife now?”

“I mean...feel free to admire me, but not when I’m one step away from being admitted into a psych ward.” You leaned over, taking his wine glass out of his hand, bringing it up to your lips. A drink is what you needed. A small sip to calm down your racing thoughts, before you got up to look for your glasses again.

You threw your head back, waiting for the red liquid to reach your lips, savoring the taste before it even reached your mouth or your taste. And when it did, when it coated your lips enough for a drop to enter your mouth, your eyes grew wide in panic, remembering why you had been refused to drink with Taehyung tonight and why you had been so up in your head lately.

Taehyung watched as the scene unfolds in front of him. Instantly he had felt your rush of panic and his worries got the best of him. Acting on his fight or flight instincts he immediately took the glass from your hand, setting it down on the coffee table next to your forgotten glasses. “What’s wrong? I didn’t want to ask, but now you’re worrying me.” He placed his hands on your shoulders shaking you slightly, bringing you back to him.

Your eyes were glossy and distant as you breathed out a sigh looking into his eyes for a slight second before planting your gaze on the beige throw pillow you had been hugging earlier. It had helped ease your nerves before and now with Taeyhyungs piercing stare, burning holes into the top of your head. It was failing to do what you had wanted it to do. Comfort you.“I don’t know if I’m ready to tell you.” You whispered, playing with the little tassel on one of the four ends. “I mean I want to tell you, but I don’t know why I am so scared.”

“Is it something bad?” He said carefully. He could feel the air getting caught in the back of his throat as he tried to keep himself from thinking of every possible scenario, good or bad, to have you acting the way you were.

You lifted your head, chewing on your bottom lip. “It depends.” You shrugged slightly avoiding his eyes and settling upon the tv screen. The paused movie nowhere to be seen as it was now asking you if you wanted to keep watching.

“Depends on what? You’re scaring me.” The softens of his voice faltering as his grip on your arms got tighter, trying to keep himself from breaking down.

“On your reaction. I thought I would have more time to come to terms with it but I don’t think I can hold it in any longer,” you said in a haste. Your words combining with one another as Taehyung tried to keep up with your fever.

“Just say it...please. I can feel my heart trying to leave my body.”

“Taehyung,” you took a deep breath, digging your nails into the pillow, and turned to face the only man you had ever loved. “I’m pregnant.” You whispered with wide eyes. Maybe you weren’t going crazy but after finding out three weeks ago that you were with child, the thought of telling your husband the news was driving you to the point of no return.

It wasn’t like you and Taehyung didn’t want kids, the two of you had been trying for more than a year with little to no success. But the second you saw the little positive symbol on the pink and white stick, you couldn’t believe it. So you took another and another and another until you had about ten positive pregnancy tests staring back at you, mocking you. All you could do was cry.

Taehyung’s eyes sparkled with tears as he threw the pillow you were holding to the side and hugged you tightly. He buried his face into the crock of your neck leaving behind a trail of loving kissing trying to comfort your shaking form.

His biggest wish had finally come true.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier you big idiot?” He raised his head. His hands trailed up your spine until they reached your head. His thumbs swiping underneath your eyes taking your falling tears with him. “Why were you scared?”

“I just...it finally happened and I couldn’t believe it. I thought that if I said it outloud I would wake up from a dream or something.” You hiccuped.

Taehyung shook his head in disbelief a slight chuckle falling out of his lips as he leaned over and kissed your cheek. “That head of yours is your biggest enemy. No wonder you were in such a dreamlike daze the last two weeks.”

“Are you happy?” You pouted slightly, holding his arms gently, scared he would let you go.

“I’m more than happy, I’m so excited. I could literally run down the street naked, waking up the whole neighborhood, risking a public offense violation, just to let the whole world know that I am finally going to be a dad”

You laughed, throwing your arms around his neck and bringing him closer to you. “I’m starting to regret ever saying anything, I should’ve just kept it a secret for the next eight months.”

“Hmm, and here I was thinking that I should probably tell you where you left your glasses. Now I think I’m going to keep it a secret for the next eight months.” Teahyung stuck out his tongue at you before settling into the couch and bringing you along with him, making you whine in annoyance.

“I knew you knew where they were.” You grumbled crossing your arms in front of your chest. “I’ll let you decide on the first letter of your childs name if you tell me.” You sang, poking his side gently, making him yelp out in pain.

He turned to you, pouting, rubbing his side in pain, “first letter and their first outfit when we leave the hospital.” He challenged, sticking his hand out for you to shake.

“Kim Taehyung, it looks like you got yourself a solid deal.” You said, encasing your hand in his, giving it a firm shake before pulling you into his side. His arm entrapping you to keep you from moving and placed a loving kiss against your forehead.

“You left them on the coffee table.” He pulled away, presenting your clear framed glasses to you. You let out a sigh of relief, quickly grabbing them, slippin them on and cuddling into his side.

“You could’ve told me earlier, I really thought I was losing my mind for a second  back there.”

“If I didn’t would I have found out about our lovely baby bean?” He grabbed the remote, pressing the ‘continue watching’ button on the t.v. and unpaused the movie.

“I see your point.” You settled further into the side, finally letting yourself enjoy the movie. Earlier you had been ansty, pushing his hands away as they kept  traveling to your lower belly. Though, his intentions were far naughtier then what was playing in your mind. But you were afraid he would finally figure it out.

Five minutes

Five minutes was all it took before Tayhung paused the movie again and sat up in panic. “Oh my god,” He mumbled before turning to face you, eyes wide in horror and shook. “Babe I’m going to be a dad.”

You laughed, squishing his cheeks in between the palm of your hands. “Yeah I know, I thought I made that pretty clear a few minutes ago.” You teased as his eyes raced from your face and down to your midsection.

“I know but I was thinking about how we had sex last night and now I’m scared. Like what if we hurt the baby, what if I hurt the baby.”

“I don’t think that’s possible. You’re fine Tae, just play the movie.” You patted his cheeks lightly before getting up and walking into the kitchen, “do you want popcorn?”

He stood up and quickly made his way to the kitchen, leaning his forearms against the counter, watching as you placed the bag of popcorn into the microwave. “How can you be so calm about this, how do we know the babies okay? We need to call the doctor now and book an appointment.”

“Stop worrying, I’m sure baby is fine, but you can ask the doctor in a week during my first ultrasound.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, now do you want popcorn or not?”

“That’s a stupid question, I always want popcorn.”

#bts #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fanficton #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts taehyung #bts fluff #bts drabbles #taehyung x reader #taehyung imagines #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung fanfic #taehyung scenarios #taehyung drabbles #taehyung fluff #kim taehyung #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung fluff #kim taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung imagine

[real-sotenbori-hours]

Hello there 💖 Love your writing and just finished yakuza 0, and if you're up for it, I'm in the mood for something different. I love Majima, but I'm craving drama atm. What if he and his badass beauty of a s/o are getting it on and he calls Makoto's name by mistake? New bae is sweet, makes his lunches, but is NO Makoto! How shook is she? Can the couple reconcile or is that the deal breaker?

This is a terrific prompt... I’ve been dealing with some roller coaster emotions as of late so I appreciate a drama req. Pls be patient and I’d love to write this. TYSM for requesting <3

Mistaken Makoto

Reader is Female

Mild smut, angst, mentions of trauma

***WARNING: YAKUZA 0 SPOILERS***

What a day. If she didn't stay and help up, who would?It had been this way all week, and Y/N had only realized how emotionally and physically drained she truly was at the end of it all, which couldn't be more ideal because nothing is worse than realizing how thanklessly overworked one is in the very midst of the issue itself. Thankfully she now had a couple of days off to decompress and relax and the first things on her mind were a quick snack, a cup of tea and hopefully some pleasures of the flesh with her all too irresistible man. She desperately needed some bliss to tear her from her incredibly demanding lack of work/life balance. Good thing her man was more than understanding.

They didn't reside together, but Majima's flat was a lot closer (and fancier) than her place, so she typically crashed there in the evenings especially after late work days. Her apartment was more of a storage unit for her belongings and less urgently needed clothes as she usually spent her nights at his place. Though he'd been pushing the idea of moving in together for months, it was just so much work to pack her stuff and close out her lease and with her long hours as of late, she didn't have the energy to seal this lingering loose end. She planned on it, but something else held her back from making it official. She hadn't even had the time to analyze her trepidation, it was just there, and something far more easily avoided. Money wasn't an issue, so she couldn't complain. She'd get around to it soon enough.

It was a damp, sultry evening... an hours' long rain had set a sexy mist in the air and with the low lights of Kamurocho illuminating her quick and safe walk home, she felt like a seductive evening at home was just what the doctor ordered. Majima had texted her only a couple hours prior, hinting at the same theme as he'd just settled some big work things and wanted to relax. He'd offered a lovely night on the town but because Y/N was stuck at work just a little later than usual, a hot night at home seemed like the move. He'd warned that he was settling in for a nap, and to wake him when she arrived.

Her plan was to forego the food and tea, strip down and slip into bed with him... he loved being awakened by her eager warmth.

After locking the door, she dropped her coat and shimmied out of each of her professional garments, slowly sauntering into the bedroom from which only a dim light from the bathroom shone due to the door being slightly ajar.

What a marvel --- his back was to her, his irezumi slightly visible in the dim light and partial obscurity of blanket. No matter how many times she'd seen it wet, dry, slightly irritated from her nails raking its flesh, it still made her skin tingle. She loved Majima Goro through and through and was willing to do anything for him. He treated her like a Queen and still offered her the world if she needed anything. He respected her independence, always offered to support her if she so desired, and was in turn endlessly grateful for her love and commitment to him. Many a time she wondered how in the fuck that she was The One to tame a yakuza boss... but she had. It was so natural and uncomplicated, she never batted an eye. It was sparks in the air the first time they met and every day and night since.

By the time she reached the bed, she was beautifully nude and ready. As much as she needed him and his attentions, she wanted to at least begin by lavishing him with attention while rousing him from his slumber. It drove him crazy.

After slipping beneath the linens, pressed against him, she kissed his shoulder, slowly and deliberately and then made her way down the back of his arm while slipping her hand along his back and over his hip, gripping the bone. He groaned, rolling on his back as she snuck up to his ear.

"Mmmm, I'm home...."

No further words necessary, he wrapped his arms around her as she straddled him, kissing and biting his lobe, down his neck, stopping to suck along his clavicle. His hands found their way to her hips as he gripped them and urged them to rock back and forth, but she wanted to prolong it. She needed to tease a little.

His eye remained closed, his breathing grew heavier as he gripped her hips hard enough to bruise. She adored it.

Leaning in to kiss his neck, she traveled up to his lips, leaving quick and desperate pecks along them before sinking herself on him. She rubbed his pecs delicately before leaning back and gripping his thighs, preparing to ride him. Just as she'd begun to establish a momentum, his hands gripped her forearms, his eye still shut tightly, lips parted. She raised herself, holding steady, slowly sinking down on him again just as he moaned... "I've missed you..."

She loved it when he mused in the throes of it. She bounced a few times, leaning in to kiss him again, harder, taking his bottom lip and kissing his chin... leaning in further to whisper, "I've missed you too..."

He slid his hand up the back of her neck, gripping and keeping her close. He turns his head, eye still screwed tightly shut as he kisses her cheek. She rolls her hips again. He rubs his lips along her lobe, sighing.

"Mmmm..."

She slams her hips harder, urging him to chase his release as he continues to keep her pinned to him, gritting his teeth. She loves his scent, his sweat, she wants to lap up every bit of it.

"....Mmmma..."

She bites at his clavicle, sucking tenderly as she continues pumping him with her entire body, just wanting to make him feel so good for no reason but adoration and appreciation for him... She just wants to hear him moan and watch his face contort as he fully surrenders.

She sits up, one last slam as she tightens herself around him. She descends, pulsing on him, cradling his head as his lips part one more time. He exhales, groaning.

"....Makoto...."

Screeeeeeeeeeech.

Y/N's heart, stomach, hell, fucking everything dropped. Without a second thought, she pressed her hands on each side of her along the bed and dismantled herself, rising.

His eye flew open, his head frantically turning, searching for his girlfriend, who was promptly planning on redressing and bolting before the tears could burst out of her into every direction. What the fuck?!

"Oy!" He shouts, sitting up, still registering.

She's already made it out of the bedroom, picking up every piece of her clothing trail and hurriedly putting them back on with the urgency of a burning building.

She's grabbing her bag off of the counter as he barges into the kitchen, wrapped in the linens. "OY! Where the hell ya think yer goin'?"

She takes a deep breath and turns around to face him, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm leaving. Fuck off."

"What in the hell for? What's the matter?!"

ARE YOU SERIOUS.

She steps forward and shoves him with a single, open hand. Bag still in her other hand. "FOR CALLING ME 'MAKOTO' WHILE I'M FUCKING ON TOP OF YOU. ARE YOU FUCKING OUT OF YOUR MIND?!"

He catches himself, grabbing the counter and throws his head in his other hand. "Jesus Christ, I'm a little drunk, babe. I'm sorry..."

"Yeah, great. Well, you can be sorry alone. I'm going home."

"Nah c'mon don't be like that, it was a mistake, I love ya and ya know that, don'tcha?"

"You know honestly, I'm not sure. If you're thinking of her while I'm giving it to you, giving you my fucking body, my affection, my time, I think the mistake is my being in this entire fucking equation. I must be insane. I knew there was a reason I wasn't ready to move out of my place yet...."

"Nah babe it's not like that, I swear. I'm really sorry, I know that didn't feel good but I was in such a deep sleep I really wasn't thinkin---"

"---ABOUT ME. You were thinking of another woman. While I'm here. Are you serious? Do you have any idea how much I love you, how you might as well have shoved your tanto straight into my chest? That would've felt better than to hear another woman's name come out of your fucking mouth..."

Majima realized this wasn't a conversation he could charm his way out of. All of the times he came home battered, bruised and bleeding? Yeah after a few minutes of patching, he could calm her down. All of the times he was stuck at the office late and hadn't eaten in hours, she'd bring him something home cooked, knowing full well that none of his favorite shops were open. She'd beg him to come and get some sleep but he'd assure her that he'd get it done and be fine. She'd take it all in stride, this was the man she loved, it was par for the course.

But being called another woman's name, one that held such a crushing significance in his life? Nah.

"...I'm leaving. I need space. Leave me alone for a few days." His eye flew open as he nearly tripped over the blanket, dashing to her and grabbing her arms.

He knelt, looking up at her pleadingly.

"Y/N, baby, please. Please. Yer everythin' ta me. Please don't go..."

She sighed, too tired to even fight the tears. She let them roll.

"I can't do this, Goro. Maybe you love me, but obviously I'm not everything to you. Maybe it's unfair for me to demand to be, but it's what you are to me, and I can't compromise. I won't find myself in another love in which my feelings aren't matched."

"They are matched, babe. Please just stay so we can talk about it. If ya don't wanna stay after that, fine, but please gimme a minute to explain..."

"Goro, what's there to explain? If she's still in such a dominant place in your mind, then what's left for me? I can't share your affection like that. This isn't gonna work. Am I supposed to get over it and hope it doesn't happen again? What do you take me for?"

He choked, taking a deep breath. He dropped the Kansai-ben.

He looked up at her slowly, his face changing, his voice low and serious."I cared a lot for her. I haven't spoken with her in almost 20 years. There is nothing there. Sometimes I'm plagued with nightmares from the events of those years. Between my captivity and the situation in which I met her. I wish her nothing but the best. I have moved on since then, clearly. She only means anything to me because she is a good person. I'm not in love with her, I'm in love with you, and only you."

Y/N swallowed hard, taking his words into consideration... soothed but still feeling an uneasiness.

"You said her name while you were balls deep inside me. How are you going to explain that away? Be fucking honest with me. You have one minute."

"Makoto and I were never physically intimate! She isn't an ex-girlfriend or former love or anything like that! It was an honest mistake, it had nothing to do with the fact that you and I were in the middle of it, okay? I was just waking up, babe..."

"You were conscious. You grabbed me, you kissed me..."

"My mind was still out of it. Come on, I'm telling you the truth. I love you, Y/N. I love you like crazy. Makoto has absolutely nothing to do with my life now. I was just having a fucked-up dream."

Y/N set her bag down and draped her arms around him lazily as he hugged her hips.

"Look, I don't know how much I ever told you about it but here's the brakes: I was told to kill her and if I did, I'd be let back into the family, which was all I wanted at the time. You know all about my Grand days and that tiny apartment and the fact that all I did was run a cabaret club and get followed everywhere I went and my direct boss at the time would just slap me around like a fucking puppy and throw wrenches in everything I did, right?"

She nodded.

"I was told that I'd be in good standing and that I'd get my life back if I did my first hit. I was supposed to take out some ruthless scumbag that trafficked women. It was a no-brainer. I hunt my target down only to find that this ruthless scumbag was a blind woman who had no idea why in the fuck anyone would be after her. You can only imagine my confusion and why I did not kill her. But I was then of course risking worse things than death by keeping her alive and hidden away, all the while lying to my boss. Once he wised up, he tried to kill me, her and the guy she worked for at the time who was a solid guy. I watched him die. I got roughed up time and again, had to find her, make sure they didn't kill her. She was totally blameless and a survivor of the trafficking itself. This woman went through so much and still never batted an eye at her poor hand of cards. Yes, I wound up caring for her very deeply and after all was said and done, I could've told her how I felt, maybe she felt the same, who knows. Instead, I wanted her to be happy and to have nothing to do with me... because at the time, I only created more and more enemies as I climbed the ladder and I knew I couldn't keep her safe forever. I knew that at that time in my life, I had to focus on where I was going, I couldn't drag an innocent person into my mess of a life just because I had feelings for her. I did what I thought was the right thing then and I stand by it now... and where I'm at now, finally, is a place in which I can finally be with the woman I love -- you -- and I don't have to keep you away. I'm not climbing anymore... I'm no longer a real target and neither is anyone close to me."

Y/N nodded again, feeling relieved... but sad. So sad. Sad for being angry at him and sad for his loss... she had no idea the extent of what Makoto was to him and had only assumed the usual out of fear of bringing up such a heavy conversation... but she was glad to finally have it all out in the open.

"Alright... I know I shouldn't ask this but I need to..."

"Anything, babe. What do you want to know?"

"Do you wish you had been with her anyway? I know comparing myself to her is nonsensical but---"

"---Could I love you like I did her?"

"Yes."

"...No. Because the way I felt for her is different. You have to understand, I had to fight dozens and I mean dozens of men to protect her. She kept getting nabbed, I'd have to fight my way through buildings full of armed men to get her out alive. She got shot and almost died. I thought she had at first. It looked grim. So I guess in a way, the way I felt for her then is that I just wanted to protect the only truly good person I ever knew in my life... at that point. How do I feel about her now? I just hope she's happy... and I believe she is."

"You said you haven't spoken to her in 20 years?"

"That's a half truth. When we went through all that shit, she was blind. She never knew what I looked like, she only knew my voice. Years later I ended up in Sotenbori tying up some loose ends that led me to her shop and she didn't realize it was me, telling a perfect stranger how she was happily married with a kid. I was glad to hear it, you know? That was it. I just hope her life now is great because the first half wasn't, you know what I mean? That's it."

Y/N closed her eyes tightly and breathed in slowly, trying to make sense of her emotional state.

"Goro-kun..."

He looked up for the first time in what felt like forever.

"Y/N-chan?"

She sighed once again and carded her fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends, trying to stifle a laugh. Though she was still mildly hurt, the burn of her fury had subsided... she was grateful to have gotten a full discourse out of him and now felt almost foolish for being so (understandably) upset. She all but worshiped this man... he has always been good to her, holding her up on a pedestal, treating her with the respect and care that one only does when they truly and deeply... love and care for another.

She realized it's not a competition, Makoto wasn't "some other woman" or even a threat to her... she was a member of his past, a traumatic and murky one at that. She realized in that moment that it's okay that Majima loved another woman (and more, of course) before her... look at him.

But in this moment for a time before and likely to come, Majima Goro is hers and only hers. He did the right and likely painful thing by scratching at the scab to let her in, to tell her what happened and how it applies to his life now... to give her a perspective on her importance to him now, in comparison to what he's endured. It's a scab because the events of his past never truly heal or leave his psyche... he's just learned to live with and in spite of them, in many thanks to her.

Her unconditional love keeps him grounded, her presence adds to his purpose and for her, the same.

She was indescribably appreciative that the gave her a part of him in his honesty... and she would never take it for granted again. Walking out the door in anger would be, in her eyes, taking it for granted.

He nuzzled his face against her stomach, cradling her hips, giving her all the time she needed to cycle through her thoughts and feelings. God, what a man.

She gripped his chin and pulled him up to his feet, slipping an arm around him, re-tucking the blanket around his hips.

"Let's go to sleep... and bring back the Kansai-ben. I miss it already."

He laughed his usual insane, multi-octave laugh and grabbed her face, kissing her lips, nose, cheek and forehead before ripping the blanket off of him, wrapping it around her and scooping her up, carrying her back to the bedroom.

#majima goro #majima goro x reader #goro majima x reader #majima goro smut #goro majima smut #majima goro angst #goro majima angst #yakuza #yakuza 0 #yakuza kiwami #yakuza kiwami 2

[sagefzy]

PART FOUR: POPCORN AND GREEN TEA

perfectionism | prev | next

You tapped your foot on the pavement, anxious to finally meet the eyes of your old friend. The feeling of excitement was almost overwhelming all your senses, the only thing you could focus on was the plain, faded brown door in front of you. Quickly, you sent Suna a text to let him know of your arrival, however in the corner of your eye, you suddenly noticed two figures approaching. You shrugged it off, thinking that it was just two guys passing by on a walk, but rather than walking past the house, they stepped up the driveway slowly drawing near you.

Hearing Ennoshita's words in your mind about being aware of your surroundings, you discreetly glanced back observing the two. But, much to your surprise, it was the exact two guys who bombarded you at the supermarket yesterday. Well, actually, more like the one blond who smashed a shopping cart into your heel, blubbering apologies and looking away, while the other one stood there and watched the whole incident play out.

You watched them for what seemed like forever. Could they possibly be Suna's friends? No, the whole thing seemed too coincidental, surely that couldn't be the case. Not willing to take the chance, you took out your phone once more in hopes to get Suna to clarify that those were, indeed, not his friends. Unfortunately for you, it appeared that the universe had decided to make you a pawn in its game because the two of them were, indeed, his friends.

You let out a heavy sigh, you could already tell that the next few hours would be nothing but awkward stares and embarrassing conversations. Not wanting to ruin your one day of freedom- the one day where you didn't have to listen to your dad's constant yells, telling you how much of a disappointment you are- the one day where you didn't have to sit in front of the piano all day just to feel some sort of gratification. It was then that you decided to just ignore the situation, and pretend as if the blond wasn't the reason that the back of your foot was wrapped in a bandage. For all Suna knew, this was you guys' first encounter, so be it.

Right as the door opened, your eyes were drawn to the tall green-eyed boy who you used to spend every day with as a young kid. "Y/N, so glad you're here!" Suna smiled, as he went in for a quick hug. "Those two behind you are Atsumu and Osamu." He introduced, pointing to the two that were now directly behind you. The blond looked absolutely horrified, stealing brief glimpses at the bandage that hugged your heel, the other one, however, stared back with a nonchalant smile. "They may have almost the same face, but the one with the ugly piss-colored hair is Atsumu, and the normal looking one is Osamu."

You grinned back at the two, showcasing your brightest smile, hoping that they'd get the message to not bring up the fact that this was not your first encounter. You were going to introduce yourself to the two, but the blond seemed to beat you to cut. "How come Samu is the normal one?" He whined.

Suna snickered, "Because Osamu doesn't act like a dramatic brat who needs his hand held every damn second of the day."

Suna's blunt words made you softly chuckle, there was something in friendly banter that just made it so pure and innocent. You looked up at the two, noticing that the blond's expression had softened after hearing your giggles. With the brief moment of silence at hand, you decided to take this as the moment to introduce yourself. "I'm Y/N, it's nice to meet you Atsumu and Osamu."

"Well now that we got introductions out of the way, why don't we go inside and find something to do," Suna suggested.

"Rinny, can we watch a movie?" You asked excitedly. The last time you had watched a movie was when you hung out with Nishinoya, Tanaka, and Ennoshita before leaving Miyagi, and your dad hardly ever let you engage in anything other than school work or piano, making it a rare treasure.

Suna nodded, "Watching a movie it is."

As all of you entered the house, you couldn't help but hear the blond, Atsumu mutter to his brother, "If I called 'm Rinny I think he'd punch me on the spot."

A smile quickly reappeared on your face as you heard his brother respond, "I don't know, I'll give ya one thousand yen to put it to the test."

"No, I think I'll choose life," He giggled.

You found your way to the couch and swiftly pulled out your phone, eager to let your friends know your current situation. The whole scene sounded like something straight out of a book.

You clicked your phone off and turned your attention to the aroma that seemed to be emerging from the kitchen. The familiar scent, caramel popcorn and green tea, jogged an almost forgotten memory of your childhood. An unlikely duo, yet even as a child you couldn't get enough of the weird combination. No one would've ever thought to put the two together, but it just worked.

You almost laughed at the sight. Suna walked out of the kitchen juggling three bowls of caramel popcorn, three bottles of energy drinks, and, of course, your mug of green tea. Since he had such little grace, you got up and lent a helping hand. "No, no you're my guest and you're injured go sit back down," Suna scolded.

"Well it's too late, I'm already here, so I'll just take some of that off your hand," You said while grabbing the mug of tea and the three energy drinks. You walked over to the twins and handed them each their bottle.

"Say what happened to yer foot over there?" Osamu asked with a smirk on his face.

"Oh yeah you never told me what you did to your foot, Y/N," Suna added as he placed the remaining bowls on the side table.

"It's not a big deal I just scraped myself with glass while unpacking," You blurted. You hoped that the lie was convincing enough, but to be honest, scraping yourself with glass sounded way more believable than being run over with a shopping cart.

"I see, sorry to hear that," Osamu responded in an almost surprise-like manner. You thought that maybe he expected you to call out his brother, however you decided to stick with your initial decision of ignoring the situation to save your night from awkwardness. His expression only got more surprised as he realized the unusual food combination you were eating. For only eating caramel popcorn with green tea, he looked as if you were committing a crime against food.

"Green tea with caramel popcorn?" He asked.

With no shame you nodded your head. "Don't knock it until you try it, it's my favorite combo in the world. I can never get enough of it."

Suna sighed, "Yeah, it's no use to convince her otherwise it's been more than a solid seven years since i last saw her and she still likes it."

The night ended almost as quickly as it started. Although you were initially worried about it being awkward, your worries were soon rested once Osamu started explaining his love of cooking. You both talked endlessly about all sorts of sweets and savory foods you both enjoyed indulging in. However, his twin, on the other hand, barely talked as he aimlessly played around with his phone.

Your eyes noticed the time on the nearby clock, the numbers displaying that it was near midnight. Your stomach instantly knotted, if your dad wasn't asleep, you for sure were going to get an ear full when you arrived home. You picked up your phone, and smiled at Suna and Osamu who's chest softly rose up and down as they slept.

You stood up quietly, getting Atsumu's attention. You didn't expect him to do or say anything since he'd been quite dull the entire night, but it seemed like this was a night of surprises. "Yer not planning to go all the way to the bus stop by yerself now are ya?" He asked.

"Well I'm not waking either of them so they can escort me if that's what you're asking," you responded "But, you're more than welcome to join me if it'll put your mind at ease." You fully expected him to not care, however he grabbed his jacket next to him and stood up, walking over to where you stood by the front door.

He quietly opened the door, careful to not make a creaking noise. "After you," He said as he directed you out of the house. The crisp winter air hit your face, your whole body jolted from the sudden change of temperatures. "Don't suppose yer cold now?" He asked, probably noticing your shivering. You replied by shaking your head and continued on the trail to the bus stop.

The rest of the walk was mostly silent, neither one of you knowing what to say. This was definitely uncharacteristically of Atsumu, anyone who'd even slightly know him would expect him to be chatting your ear off with overdramatized commentary. However, things seemed to be different in this situation, there was an eerie feeling about you that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Of course, it didn't help that your first encounter with him was him, in fact, running a shopping cart into you, but it wasn't just that. Maybe it was the way you presented yourself, in an almost sickening sweet-like manner. It all felt artificial, like a facade.

"Well this is it," you said, snapping him out of his thoughts, "Just in time for the last bus, thanks for walking with me." You turned around to enter the vehicle but before you could, a hand made its way to your arm. You immediately flinched at the contact, pulling away at the light hold he had on you.

"I'm sorry I just- i um," He started, trying to find a way to word what he wanted to say. "I wanted to say that 'm sorry for yesterday, it was kind of a shitty thing to do, and 'm also sorry for not really talking all that much today, ya seem really nice and I'm usually not this bad when it comes to meeting new people. And, I totally ruined the night by ignoring you I-"

You lightly laughed, "It's alright, plus any friend of Rin's, is a friend of mine, and you didn't ruin tonight at all, I thought it was perfect." You both smiled back at each other, not saying anything for a moment. You cleared your throat, "Um, I'll see you around, have a good night, Atsumu."

He watched as you entered the bus. A small smile made it on his face as he watched you wave goodbye from the bus window. He waved back and muttered under his breath, "Good night, Y/N."

The bus ride was only about ten minutes. Anxiously, you opened the door to your house, hoping that by some miracle your dad would be sound asleep. The old door slightly creaked, you peaked inside and all your worries flushed away as you saw your dad passed out on the couch. Granted he was passed out drunk, at least that's what you gathered by the four bottles of empty beer that laid at his feet.

Even for you, life wasn't as perfect as it seemed. As much as you wanted it to be, as much as you led people on to think that it was, it just wasn't. The worst part of it was that deep down, you felt accountable for it all. Maybe if you would've been just a little better at piano, you could've achieved your perfect life.

You reached your bedroom and exhaustedly plopped down on your bed. You glanced at the picture of your mother on your bedside table. Her long hair glided down her lavender dress, her face gleaming with a smile. In one hand she held her violin and the other held an award deeming her the best violinist in the nation. She was talented, beautiful, intelligent, and made your dad happy. She was absolutely everything you weren't, and your dad made sure to remind you everyday.

Life before she died was perfect. You could never recall a memory of you being sad around her. Before you closed your eyes, you whispered, "I wish I was perfect like you."

fun facts !

Whenever Atsumu doesn't know how to address a situation, he just goes on his phone and plays angry birds.

If you're ever bored, Osamu will talk forever about all the different ways you can cook the same recipe.

Suna can never stay awake during a movie night, he always falls asleep somehow.

Before getting into volleyball, the twins' mother tried to get them into violin, however that quickly failed once Atsumu broke his bow on the second day of lessons.

perfectionism ©

smau written by @sagefzy

tagist: open just send an ask :)

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu smau series #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu smau #atsumu x female reader #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu miya #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #miya atsumu fanfiction #miya atsumu fic #atsumu fluff #atsumu angst #perfectionism #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu!! smau #suna rintaro #miya osamu #tanaka ryuunosuke #nishinoya yuu #hq x reader #hq smau #hq atsumu #hq fluff #atsumu smau

[brockadoodles]

ho ho hopefully - t. seguin

AN: This is like... PURE fluff. Pure soft, Christmas themed, fluffy fluff with our resident idiot, Segs. But like, kind of what we deserve for Christmas, no? Totally based on the BEST Christmas song in existence, Ho Ho Hopefully, by the Maine. Tagging the seggy queen @texanstarslove​ in this one, since I think she’ll enjoy it. It’s a bit shorter than most, but let me know what you think!

Word Count: 2222

Warnings: None.

December first, I’m in a foreign state, I’m running late, I’m all alone, wishing I was home with you, baby.

It shouldn’t have mattered. It shouldn’t have been a big deal to miss it. It was one year, objectively, you could start on December second, or third, or fourth, or all the way up until Christmas Day and it shouldn’t matter. But there was something about December first, how the first signs of Christmas would start popping up, with lights beginning to pop up on homes and trees slowly starting to be seen in the windows, families decorating together. You probably liked December first more than you even liked Christmas because something about that transitional time from autumn scenery into snow-covered streets that actually made sense was comforting, and with everything going on in your life as of late, the only thing you wanted was to be home on December first, with him.

Tyler knew that December first was special. He knew from the years of knowing and falling in love with you how your eyes lit up at the smallest things, like the first snowfall of the season, even though Vancouver rarely got snow. He knew from the way his own heartbeat faster around you that first year you insisted he help you with a tree, his own love for you he was trying to keep at bay trickling through to the surface. He knew that being home with you was inarguably the one thing you wanted, and there he was stuck in an airport lounge in Boston feeling the farthest away from you he could possibly feel on your favorite day of the year. 

Tyler looked out the window. His eyes were still as he watched the storm get worse and worse outside. Muffled airport announcements in monotone voices announcing delay after delay in flights. Boston was an eight and a half hour flight from Vancouver, and reality was settling in that his chance at maybe, just maybe making it to you with an hour to spare was steadily decreasing with each inch of snow that was falling onto the ground. 

Tyler knew when you started dating that it would be hard. The distance between Dallas and Vancouver was already a hurdle, but the added layer of his career and your own job made the relationship seem nearly impossible. It felt at times like you were two people dangling from a rope, trying to balance too many things at once simply just to be together. But he’d hear your soft voice on the phone, “I can’t wait to see you” murmuring from your lips and it made it all worth it, it made the time difference, the traveling, and the hardships worth it anytime you’d utter those words. 

He wasn’t even entirely sure how it happened, him falling so hard for someone who was almost always half a world away. Everyone in his life cautioned him against it, saying that there was no way it could work, you’re too different of people and too different of lives and it wasn’t rational. But Tyler didn’t care to be rational, because you were his best irrational choice he had ever made, and he knew he was lucky that he got to love you. 

Tyler held his head in his hands and tried to tell himself that it would be okay. He was still getting to see you later that month for Christmas and that was what mattered. But he also couldn’t help being unfathomably irritated at the bad weather that he couldn’t control, the watered-down shitty Dunkin coffee sitting next to him, and the repetitive cycle of delayed flight announcements ruining what was supposed to be an incredible surprise. The Stars had been in Boston finishing up a long road trip where they would now have two days off before a short home stretch of games. The timing had lined up perfectly so that if he flew straight from Boston to Vancouver, he’d get almost two days with you, one of which being your favorite day of the year. But now as he sat in the terminal, the hope of seeing you just kept dwindling bit by bit, and he was coming to the deafening realization that maybe it just wasn’t meant to work out. 

“Any news?” Tyler turned his head quickly at the voice coming from his left. Jamie sat down next to his teammate with a soft frown on his face. Tyler just shook his head and took a sip of his coffee, growing more irritated by the minute. The only thing getting him through it was knowing that even though his surprise was crumbling, you at least couldn’t be disappointed in it since you had no idea he was even planning to come in the first place. But what Tyler didn’t know was that Jamie Benn loved a lot of things, one of which being a classic romantic Christmas surprise, and you had been scheming up a surprise of your own. 

It was a last minute surprise, an idea that you had panickingly called Jamie over just the week prior. You had been going through what might have been the worst day you’d had in months, one of those days where every single event felt like the worst thing in the world. You remember curling up on your couch and crying as you looked through the calendar and Tyler’s schedule, trying to piece together how you could swing a surprise visit between their pre-Christmas packed schedule and your own lack of vacation time from work. It felt like the pieces weren’t fitting, and you were desperate to try. So that’s when you called Jamie, and he patiently combed through the practice schedule with you, helped you book a flight and promised to keep it an absolute secret from your boyfriend. 

The thing that Tyler didn’t know was that you were also sitting in an airport terminal with a shitty coffee in your hand, waiting anxiously for a flight of your own, the first flight of two that in six and a half hours time would land you back in the lone star state. The main difference was that there was no snow where you were, and all that you had to do was board the plane and show up, Jamie said he would take care of the rest. 

You had everything worked out, Jamie had made sure he wouldn’t suspect anything, his dog sitter knew when you were coming, and you had even packed a goofy Christmas sweater for him to wear while you hopefully decorated together. Long-distance with him was hard, but when the schedule seemed to allow for a quick visit, you gladly took what you could get, willingly ready to be tired from the flights even if it meant just a few hours with him. 

Each visit you found yourself breaking more and more when it ended, the days between were starting to feel dreaded. Your work was no longer enjoyable. It felt like you were stagnant in Vancouver, with most of your heart nestled safely in whatever city Tyler happened to be in that night. If you were honest with yourself, you knew that this was going to burn out, the distance was going to take its toll on the both of you, and sitting in that airport ready to go see him for the first time in a few weeks, you found yourself thinking for the first time about the idea of not coming back to Vancouver. 

Your phone rang in your hand, Tyler’s photo filling up the screen. You set your coffee down and slid your thumb across to answer, smiling slightly in excitement.

“Hey.” you hummed, hoping that your headphones would drown out any announcements about flights that were periodically coming through the speakers around you. The airport was busy, as was to be expected this time of year, but you had worked hard to keep this a secret from him and the last thing you wanted was a muffled airport announcement blowing the surprise fifteen minutes before you were set to get on a fight. 

“Hi, baby.” He sighed. You could tell something was off, you could always tell. You and Tyler knew each other so well, the distance between you forcing you both to pick up on things between each other. The things that were highs and the shifts in tone that indicated something was wrong, you both knew. You had memorized all of his little habits, from the typical stuff like how he preferred apples in his oats or how he had to nap at the same time before every game, to the things that people who didn’t know him didn’t have the privilege to see. Like the way he lit up when his sisters would call, or how he was really hard on himself, even when he shouldn’t be. You just knew him, all of his good things and all of his flaws and you loved him endlessly through all of it. You frowned slightly and opened your mouth to speak but he started before you could.

“I’m heading back to Dallas. Our flight was delayed, big snowstorm here.” He groaned. He hated that he was telling you this without entirely telling you why he was upset. But Jamie was next to him, and even if Tyler didn’t want to believe that he was right, deep down he knew the surprise wasn’t going to work, and as much as it sucked, he needed to just go back to Dallas and accept the fact that he would have to wait a few more weeks to see you not through a phone screen. 

“I just really fucking miss you.” He admitted and your heart cracked. You could hear in his voice how bad it was, and it only strengthened the feeling of stopping all of the distance between you altogether. 

“I miss you, too, bub. But, only a couple of more weeks.” You raised the tenor of your voice a bit, hoping that it would get him a bit excited about Christmas together. 

“Yeah, wish it was sooner, though.” 

You talked with Tyler for a few more minutes, tapping your foot slightly as you waited for your boarding number to be called. When you ended the call and boarded your flight, that feeling came back. The feeling of wondering if Vancouver could really truly be your home anymore when half of your soul was in Dallas. You spent the whole flight thinking about it, even though deep down you had no doubts about your decision. All it took to confirm it was his strained voice on the other end of the line, the pent of frustrations he was feeling about missing you just as much as you missed him. 

Tyler carried his bags through the entryway, exhaustion finally setting in right next to his already bad mood. Gerry, Marshall, and Cash came running up to him, excited to see him and lifting his spirits just enough as he greeted them and then combed through his mail that was sitting on the table. He tossed his bags down and kicked off his shoes, not wanting to bother with taking them upstairs yet. He knew that the dog sitter had left, he had told her when he was coming in. He was honestly looking forward to just relaxing on his couch, face-timing you, and going to sleep. He was supposed to be in Vancouver, walking up to your door and seeing you, and he didn’t have it in him to not sulk about that. 

He walked toward the kitchen, freezing a bit when he saw bags of Christmas decorations on the counter. He poked around, sifting through the various bags wondering who had dropped them off or if he had somehow placed an order for Christmas decorations that he forgot about. He got to one bag, a small brown one with a ribbon on the side. It was probably a gift, but when he saw the note with his name scribbled on the front he quickly opened it. 

We go together like the winter and a sweater <3 

He recognized your handwriting immediately as he opened the bag, pulling out a bright red sweater, laughing softly at the horrible snow-related Christmas pun that was screen printed on the front. He felt warm at how you somehow must have known he needed the pick me up. He kept combing through the bags, various ornaments, and knickknacks, and other decors were littered throughout them. He knew it was you, he wasn’t sure how you coordinated this but he knew you were the reason it looked like Christmas was about to throw up in his kitchen. He smiled a bit, his bad mood lifting when he realized what this probably meant. You probably wanted to decorate on facetime together, a compromise for not being able to actually be with each other and the idea melted his heart. 

Tyler walked over to the fridge, cracking open a beer as he unlocked his phone to call you. As the phone was ringing, the dogs started barking like crazy, running back from the kitchen to the front door. He didn’t think much of it until he nearly dropped his phone when he heard your voice. 

“Shh, shh, hi boys. Hi! Oh my gosh, hi Gerry.” You laughed, petting each of the dogs as you walked further into the house. You had takeout in your hands and were so focused on not dropping it from the dog’s excitement that you didn’t even realize Tyler’s bags were sitting against the wall in the entryway.

“You’re here.” You jumped at the sound of his voice, smiling big as he walked over to where you were standing. You were wearing one of his sweatshirts, his name sprawled across your back, a sight that he never grew tired of seeing and you were carrying bags of what appeared to be take out in your arms. You had slippers on and your hair up, an indication of how relaxed you were. He couldn’t help but internally groan, seeing how comfortable you were in his house, the one he wanted to be your home, too. You quickly set the food on the kitchen table, meeting him halfway. He pulled you in tight and you listened to his heart beating against your ear. 

“Fuck, I can’t believe you’re really here. I was going to surprise you.” He whispered, tilting your head up to kiss you. You smiled into the kiss, your heart already telling you what you needed to talk to him about. You didn’t have any doubts about it anymore. Dallas was where you needed to be. It was where Tyler needed you to be, and standing there in his kitchen with Christmas decorations littered all around you and him holding you like this, you were ready. Every buildup to this moment had led you here, in slippers in his kitchen ready to ask him to take another step with you, hoping that he’d grab your hand as he did so. 

“I’m really here. Jamie actually helped, he made sure I could get in and made sure you had no idea.” Tyler had never been more appreciative of his best friend. He should have known Jamie would have a hand in a surprise like this, this had secret softie Jamie Benn written all over it, and he adored you, often warning Tyler not to fuck it up with you. 

“Remind me to thank him, because wow. Best surprise ever, honestly.” He melted into you. He didn’t care if it was cheesy, or something straight from a bad Christmas movie. He’d watch 100 of those Lifetime movies because the feeling he was experiencing now with you in his arms was probably the exact emotion those cliche Christmas films tried to convey. 

“Tyler, I wanted to ask you something.” You said, pulling back just enough to look at him.

“Anything.” He kissed you once more, still in disbelief that you had pulled off a surprise when his had fallen so flat. 

“I don’t want to do this anymore, the missed calls, the flights, all of it. I just want to be here, all the time with you.” You smiled. Your stomach was bubbling with nerves as you studied his face for any reaction or reason that maybe he wasn’t ready for that yet. It would be complicated, figuring out how to actually stay in Dallas and be together. But a strenuous Visa application was the least of your worries if it meant that you’d finally get to be with him. Tyler grinned, picking you up and setting you on the table, kissing you hard as he stood between your legs. 

“Please tell me that means you want to move here.” He mumbled against your lips. You just kissed him once more. 

“There’s nothing else I want. Well I kind of want the food I brought, and maybe we could decorate for Christmas since it’s my favorite day, but like, definitely want to move here the most.” You laughed slightly as you spoke. Tyler just smiled at you, a breathtaking, heartfelt smile that made butterflies swirl around in your stomach. It was an exciting step in your relationship, and you couldn’t help but think about how much you loved December first again, this time for a new reason, because now it was the signifier in a new start with the person you loved. You didn’t care that it was only December first, because to you, this was better than anything you could have received on Christmas Day. 

#honeslty look at me adding no angst #shocker #tyler seguin #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin x reader #tyler seguin fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic

[glitterge1pen]

Put A Basket On My Bike

Kyōtani Kentarou x reader, sfw, fluff, word count 3,039

Your apartment complex was composed of seven buildings. Each building was made of two towers that went ten floors up. The two towers were connected by big concrete stairs that had green iron railing. A large platform would connect two apartments before the stairs took you to another floor. 

Since the only thing that concealed the stairs from the outside was the railing most of the building was exposed. The sun shone endlessly and lots of people kept plants out on the space outside their doors. You had made a good choice moving here. But when you first moved in you had made one crucial mistake.

You were nice to the neighborhood kids.

You had been moving the last of your boxes into the front hall of your new apartment when three kids came bounding up the stairs. Their footsteps echoed in the labyrinth of stairs.

“Hey! Are you the one who just moved in? The new person?”

“It's rude to just say stuff, you to have to introduce us”

“Right!”

The most enthusiastic of the bunch was Flowerpot. The other stated their name was Poprocks and Flowerpot pointed to Sleep, who said nothing.

“Are those your real names?”

You asked with a sly smile.

“No! Of course not, what are you stupid?”

“Thats rude”

“Right, sorry”

Flowerpot explained that their nicknames were two summers old and that they had chosen names based on their absolute favorite things. You laughed.

“Your favorite thing ever is a flowerpot?”

“Not a flower pot, all flower pots!”

“You can't yell it makes you sound mean”

Flowerpot and Poprocks bickered and argued like this some more. They only stopped when the quiet Sleep spoke up.

“Can we play here?”

“Yeah can we?”

Poprocks reiterated.

“The lady that lived here before you was so mean, she never let us play up here! No one lets us play anywhere, Mad Dog is the only person who doesn't care! And he's mean to!”

You figured that Mad Dog was your across the hall neighbor.

“Does everyone who lives here have nicknames?”

“Mad Dog came with the nickname it's different.”

Flowerpot said, his tiny arms flinging up in the air as he ranted.

“If he lets you guys play out here why did you call him mean?”

Poprocks jumped onto Flowerpots shoulders, excited to speak.

“Because he uses bad words, he never says good morning or smiles at anyone and he always plays his music too late at night!”

She seemed pleased with the list of your neighbors' atrocities and once again you could only laugh.

“Okay, if my neighbor over there doesn't care that you guys mess around out here neither do I”

That first spring in your apartment was filled with various elementary school kids shooting nerf guns, fighting with pinecones, petty arguements and a rare homework session. Other kids from different buildings would often flock to your floor as well. You didn't know most of these ones, but occasionally when Flowerpot, Poprocks, and Sleep would speak to you and talk about apartment complex drama. You were able to differentiate with ‘the kid who always wants to be Mikey when you guys play Ninja turtles’ or ‘the kid who brings over water guns’ and so on.

You left out a bowl of candy for the kids and on your way out for the day you usually ran into Sleep’s mom, who would thank you for letting the kids “make a mess in front of your house” before waving you off.

Besides the pleasant atmosphere of your new home, there was also Kyotani.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　

The first time you saw Kyotnai was two days after being officially moved in. He was bringing up his groceries and looked tired so you only waved to him before heading inside your own place. You found that Poprocks was right. Sometime around 11:30 Kyotnai started listening to music. Loud. So loud. You were across the hall and could feel the vibrations of the music. The people below him must be pissed. You were pissed actually.

The next morning when you saw him pulling a bike over his shoulders on his way down the stairs you stopped him.

“Hi, I just moved in a couple days ago,”

You trailed off, he was staring so intensely. You turned away, forgetting where you were going with this conversation beyond the simple introduction. After telling him your name you expected him to introduce himself. He just kept looking at you, eyebrows creased, head tilted up to look at you as you were two steps above him. A panic settled in over you. Your mind scrambled for anything to grasp to make this less awkward.

“Those kids who play out here called you Mad Dog-”

“My name is Kyotani.”

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　

After the terrible first meeting you had with your neighbor you did your best to avoid him. You didn't want to deal with whatever it was that had transpired between you two. Well actually, nothing had transpired between you. Much to your surprise that was just how Kyotani was.

When he went to pick up his mail from the front office, he would shoulder check anyone who was standing too close to his mailbox. When he left to go somewhere on his bike he rode in the middle of the parking lot, once you had watched him turn onto the street and when a car almost hit him he just flipped them off.

You couldn't decide if he was arrogant, always running late and that's why he came off as rude, or if he just didn't care. Maybe it was all three. For about two weeks you waited for him to leave first in the mornings and put your headphones on when the music from across the hall got too loud.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　

You had gotten home unexpectedly early. When you came up the stairs you stopped and watched the scene before you in slight amazement. Poprocks and some of the girls from another building were all huddled around Kyotani. One of them had brought their bike over.

“I’m sorry, I know you fixed it that one time but it came off again and I tired to do it but I didn't do it right”

The girl was almost crying and Poprocks patted her back soothingly.

“You're like nine its a miracle you even kinda knew how to fix this”

Kyotani said, his voice still had that gruff edge but you thought it wasn't too bad when he wasn't being horridly awkward.

“Look,”

He said pointing down to a part of the bike by the pedals.

“The chain works because it's tight, when you switch gears that changes how tight the chain is. When it fell off you put it on the wrong ring”

Now he moved his hands to the back of the bike and pushed on another part.

“Because the chain isn't tight, you can just pick it up, and put it where it's supposed to go, put it around the ring, then you just let go of this back here, and done”

Kyotani removed his hands from the bike. The girls cheered and spun the back wheel of the bike to test it.

“It's that easy?”

The girl said with a smile.

“That easy. I can break it again and you can try to fix it”

“No!”

All three girls shouted at once before hurrying away past you down the rest of the stairs. It was now that Kyotani saw you. There was a brief moment of eye contact before you pretended to look for your keys and he went inside his apartment.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　

A couple days later you found yourself headed down to the pool. It had been a mostly shitty week and then you remembered the hot tub. There was only about an hour or so until the pool area that stood in the middle of the complex closed. But you were going to make sure it was an hour well spent. You got yourself ready, grabbing head phones, something to look at while you sat in the hot tub.

It had been cloudy all day so you doubted that anyone was down there. It hadn't rained and the sky had thrown no lightning so you felt safe heading down. Covering your swim wear with a t-shirt and grabbing some sandals you headed down.

You were walking along the cement path to the pool when you spotted a familiar blonde head already in the hot tub. Your steps faltered and you almost stopped. But you lived here, this was your home. You didn't want to feel uncomfortable around anyone here.

Opening the gate with your key three people turned to look at you. You ignored the note of your presence and took off your t-shirt, tossed your belongings onto a beach chair, and did your best to feel confident.

“Mind if I get in?”

“Sure!”

It wasn't Kyotani who answered, but one of the guys he was with. He had brown hair that swopped in front of his eyes a bit.

“This is Iwaizumi,”

Kyotani said pointing to the other person in the hot tub with you guys.

“And this is someone who wasn't supposed to come today but wouldn't stop calling me”

Mentioned person ignored Kyotani and focused only on you.

“My name is Oikawa, nice to meet you,”

After saying this Oikawa turned away from you to face Kyotani.

“You know you if you wanted me to leave you could have just asked”

Oikawa’s voice was double dipped in sarcasm and his face was so dramatic.

“I did actually tell you to leave”

Oikawa and Kyotani went back and forth like this. It eased your nerves, made you feel welcomed. You watched the lap of small waves and bubbles in the stream of warm water. You wished you could stay out in the relaxing water longer.

“Are you a friend of his”

Iwaizumi asked motioning his head to Kyotani, he sat across from you but the other two boys were too engrossed in arguing to pay attention to what he was saying. You sure weren't close to Kyotani, you were barely aqutinaces, but it would spoil the mood if you said otherwise. So only responded with a playful,

“Maybe”

Iwaizumi nodded before asking another question.

“You live here too?”

“Yeah, I actually live across from Kyotani”

Oikawa saw an opportunity to jump in here.

“What's that like? Terrible?”

“Shut up Oikawa”

Kyotani said quickly, flicking droplets of water at the other with his fingers.

“Besides the loud music it's not too bad”

You said with a shrug of your shoulders. Kyotani turned to you, a puzzled look adorning him.

“The music is loud?”

“Are you kidding? Has no one ever said anything to you before?”

The words came out as a stifled laugh as you watched Kyotani try to process this information.

“Why didn't you say anything before?”

You were about to answer when a crack of thunder cut you off.

“Shit”

Kyotani said before hosting himself out of the hot tub. The other boys followed suit and you all headed up to the building together.

“What are your plans for the rest of the night?”

Oikawa said, pulling you to him by the shoulder in a friendly gesture.

“You should ask someone if it's okay to touch them before you touch them dumbass”

“Oh he's actually right about something, sorry about that”

Oikawa apologized and pulled his arm off you.

“Apology accepted, and I was planning on watching a movie maybe getting some take out, nothing extragevent”

“Let us come over!”

“Really?”

You said, surprised that your rather normal plans excited Oikawa.

“I can use a movie night where I don't have to watch a Godzilla movie. By the way did you know there are a lot of Godzilla movies?”

“It’s not every time, okay? I let you pick movies too!"

Iwaizumi said, suddenly getting defensive. The two were in their own heated conversation now as Kyotnai and you trailed behind them up the stairs.

“Are you sure it's okay if we come over?”

“I’m sure”

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

"Oh, sorry I can come back another time,"

You said to Kyotani, propping open the swinging door with your foot. Usually you did laundry on a different day but the week had been busier than expected.

"It's okay. I'm leaving-"

He was cut off by the sound of Sleep and Flowerpot jumping down the stairs. There were laundry rooms on every other floor, they sat on platforms in-between the sets of stairs. They only had a washer and dryer, and enough room for one person to come sit watch over their clothes.

"Hey let me help!"  

Flowerpot dipped underneath your laundry basket and pushed it up from your grasp. Sleep rushed to help his friend before the basket had chance to fall over. They placed it onto the washing machine with a thunk.

"How come you little shits are so nice to them and not to me?"

"Because they're nice to us!"

Flowerpot said pointing at you.

Kyotani made a sound somewhere between a growl and a gruff laugh.

"What and I'm not?"

Flowerpot crossed their arms, not backing down to Kyotani.

"Just because you fix our bikes and toys and stuff doesn't count"

"I don't know, sounds pretty nice to me"

You said teasingly.

“The parents of the building hanging out!”

“Huh?”

You said as Poprocks bounded into the cramped room and pulled herself up on top of the dryer. Her swinging legs shut the hatch that Kyotani had just opened. The kids laughed at his annoyed expression.

“You guys always do stuff for us, and even though it's not a yard you let us play in your yard”

You were able to laugh but Kyotani said nothing, his head buried too far into the dryer for you to see his face.

“Speaking of parents dont you kids have other adults to go bother?” You asked them.

“Woah, Mad Dog, how hot is it in there?”

Flowerpot asked curiously when Kyotani pulled his head and the last of his clothes from the dryer.

“What?”

Kyotani said.

“Your face is so red it has to be really hot-”

“Hey don't do that!”

Both you and Kyotani said at the same time as Flowerpot attempted to stick his head in the dryer. Kyotani yanked at the kids shirt pulling him out.

“I’m fine! I’m fine! It's not even that hot!”

“It's rude to yell like that”

“I know!”

“Then why are you still yelling?”

With that Flowerpot chased Poprocks out of the room, Sleep and Kyotani following them out. Leaving you alone to do your laundry in quiet.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

“That's weird”

You said looking at the banking app on your phone. Your paycheck hadn't deposited yet. Most Fridays the money just showed up in your account. You closed the app and then opened it again only to get an error message. You tried on your laptop. Then you googled your bank's name and found a couple articles talking about how your bank was updating their app, website, and other internal servers. Something hadn't gone correctly though. A lot of people couldn't access their accounts online.

You decided you would deal with this issue tomorrow. You opened up the fridge trying to piece together a meal with what you had  when pure fear raced up your spine. It was the first of the month. Rent was due. You ran to your room putting your shoes back on, checking what time the bank closed, grabbing your wallet and then running outside.

You were halfway down the stairs when you saw the bus you were supposed to be getting on pull off down the street. The one time the bus was there when it should be and you weren't there to get on it. The bank was going to close soon, it was about four miles away you wouldn't be able to walk there in time. You turned back up the stairs and knocked on Kyotanis door.

“How fast are you on your bike?”

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Riding on the pegs of Kyotanis bike was a church like experience. You leaned over him, arms tightly wrapped around his shoulders. At turns and stop lights you closed your eyes, or buried your head into him. Everything was just blurs of sound and color. The two of you left behind whistles of speed as Kyotani continued to pedal faster and faster.

“I have the-”

The person in the car couldn't even finish before Kyotani spat out his own retort.

“I’m on a fucking bike!”

This was true. He was on a bike and somehow both very good and very bad at riding it. When he turned into the parking lot of the bank you two spun as he braked. You felt disoriented and didn't want to let go of him just yet.

“Do you have rent to pay or not?”

“Okay, okay, I’m going!”

You jumped down from the pegs and jogged into the bank. Kyotani had managed to get you there with only ten minutes before the bank closed. You weren't the only one in line to speak to a teller though. Your fingers tapped on your arm, your foot bounced worrying that you wouldn't be able to speak to anyone in time. But another teller opened their station and you were saved.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

The ride home was much less stressful. You didn't feel nervous about being flung into oncoming traffic because Kyotani had also seemed to calm down. There was no aggressive speed or sharp turns. The wind felt gracious on your skin, the sun orange and cool in the dusk. It felt like you were gliding over the concrete.

“We should do stuff like this”

You said.

“What? Go to the bank again?”

“No, we should like hang out”

“Hm”

You slapped his shoulder.

“Don't just say hm”

“Fine, I agree we should,”

The words fumbled around in his mouth and it was the closet you'd ever see him stutter.

“Hang out”

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

A/N: No editing , no planning, just the usual late night word vomit.

#kyotani x reader #kyotani kentaro #Kyōtani Kentarō #kyoutani kentarou #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader