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#not to get emotional about my pathetic life on the dash or anything but wow... realizing it's probably not just depression & anxiety

inkedtae · 4 years

Text

rupture; rapture ⇾ kth. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ ex-boyfriend!taehyung x reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ one shot, angst, smut, f2l(?), e2l(?), ex lovers au, rekindled lovers(?), sculptor au, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾ responding to a late night call for help forces you to revisit truths you so skillfully ignored. was it always meant to fall apart to fall back into place?

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 13.2k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ slight upsetting themes, mentions of a new relationship, mentions of infidelity (tae thinks reader used him to each on her date), vague mention of consuming alcohol, switch!Taehyung, mullet!taehyung, sub!reader, unprotected sex, rough sex, clay/paint/art sex(?), hate-love sex(?), makeup sex(?), size kink, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms (f.), creampie, overstimulation, a lil degradation, a lil face-licking, body worshipping, clit worshipping, a lil clit biting, choking, spanking, motorboating, begging, teasing, swearing, breath play, breast play

anon asked: taehyung19angst asghjkll. U have a prompt list ? So for that. Maybe. If u want to. WOW. Ur awesome. The bestest. Okay. Bye. Love. Me.

#19 ⇝ “You said you knew how to do this.”

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ i am aware this is supposed to be a drabble but that never seems to be even for taehyung so here’s a one shot instead. also sorry for writing this so late

☾ banner by ⇾ @editingverse (thank you so so so much dear~ please go give her all your love!! this banner is beautiful!!)

☾ beta’d by ⇾ @kkulmoon (luff you, my soulmate crackhead~)

☾ le playlist

◖send me a prompt from dabble drabble. i will try to get to it as soon as i can. please note that i have the right to refuse any request i find uncomfortable.◗

Navigating to the chipped yellow door is second nature. Four months of distance does not change how easy it is for you to find your way to his place from across town. Your most haunting regret, however, is accepting his call. You sat around your apartment for months, fantasizing about how powerful you’d feel when your phone rings and you see his name flash only to decline the call. You told yourself that is how you will regain your dignity, how you will reclaim your life. He’s been a big part of it since freshman year. Best friends instantly, lovers only a year down the line. Clicking that red button, rejecting his apologies is how you believed you’d be able to move on and fully erase him from your life for good.

But, in the midst of a drink with someone else’s company, he calls and you do not refuse. Your heart flips only to fall and shatter in the pit of your stomach. You press the green button without much thought and bring the phone to your ear. He sounds so unsure, so nervous. A relieved sigh you didn’t realize you were holding escapes you. Eyes watering, you whisper his name.

The shame creeps upon you, condescendingly soothing your ego. Where’s your dignity now? It’s as nonexistent as when you stormed out of this very door and swore never to return. You can hear the fates snickering, watching your pathetic self stand outside of the door. Shaking out a shiver, you gather up the scattered pieces of your courage and knock on the door.

The screech of metal on metal echoes as he unlocks the door. The sound is more comforting than you expected it to be. You can’t remember the amount of times you’ve nagged him to replace the damned thing. It’s old, rusted, and the scratches of the metal make you cringe as though your bones are rotting. It used to make your jaw ache, now it only comforts you. Little things already undress your confidence. What will seeing him again do? What emotions will it beckon?

Misery leaks from your bones and into your bloodstream. The door opens to a vision of grace. In his clay-smeared jumpsuit, the sleeves wrapped around his waist and his bare chest exposed, he stares back at you. Though frozen from the winter air, you feel your face grow hot. Eyes shaking, you don’t know where to look. You’re not even sure if you can meet his gaze. It intensifies with every ticking second his long bangs fall over his lashes. He let it grow out? You’ve begged him to do so for months and once you’re apart he finally gives in? You knew he’d look good, maybe even better than his shorter cut.

The sight only confirms that you’ll never understand him. But, you suppose, you don’t have to. He’s not yours to understand anymore, not even as a friend. That statement should give you a sense of relief, but it only resurfaces the loneliness you’ve been ignoring for months.

Shakily sighing, you plaster a polite smile and greet, “Hey Tae.”

Taehyung parts his lips, but his voice catches. He stares back at you, gaze dancing up and down your frame. He drinks in the way your black dress pants hug your curves, and how you dare to wear a tube-top under your coat in the freezing weather. Gulping, Taehyung flashes you a kind, tight lipped smile and moves aside to welcome you in. His chain looped earring dangles with his movements. It’s such a simple antic, but you cannot fight off the familiar comfort in your chest upon catching it.

Each step back into his apartment fogs your mind with memories of joy and despair alike. Sometimes, those emotions rise in tandem during the same memory, within the same five minute time span. But other times, those memories are saturated with one emotion or the other. You two could never find that balance; not as lovers anyway, not as you thought.

“Make yourself at hom-” he cuts himself off just as the door shuts.

You turn to face him, raising a brow at his slip up. Funny how things circle back no matter how much either of you try to suppress them. This place has always felt like home to you. In fact, revisiting it proves that it still does. He just never let you make it official.

The gloom of four months ago has followed you back in here as well, it would seem. You gulp down the little scratch in your throat and try your best to flash a smile. His brows raise at the gesture. You assume a teeth braced wince paints your features instead.

Clearing his throat, Taehyung corrects himself, “Comfortable. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab you a hot drink to warm you up.” His gaze shifts to the slanted window over his little studio sectioned in the corner of his apartment. “It’s really coming down out there.”

Setting your clutch down on his work table, you nod. He glares at your action before looking back at you. You are fully aware of his distaste for you to dump your things near his work, even if it happens to be your own sculpting supplies. However, he distrubed your date tonight and that little slip up of his recalls more anger than you care to accept right now. Playing into his pet peeves is the very least you can do to show him that you’re not here for anything else but fixing his sculpture.

With a pleasant smile plastered on your lips, you peel your jacket off and set it down on the table as well. Taehyung sarcastically smirks then makes his way to the kitchen. You know you shouldn’t but you let your eyes linger on his frame and follow him around the kitchen while he prepares something for you. His shoulder blades flex as he reaches for a mug from the top shelf - a detail you always found makes you anxious because the cups can easily slip out of his hand from such a height and break.

He must feel your gaze as he glances back at you. “You must be freezing,” he comments.

Looking down at your half top, you shrug. “Not really. That’s what a jacket is for.” You shouldn’t sass. It always gets on his nerves. But, the way he regards you with such tamed hostility and smirks all knowingly, switches something in you. You cannot hold yourself back and he cannot expect to call you over here in the dead of night for help only to glare and sneer at you.

Out of sheer spite, you sit on one of the stools by the table and bend down to untie your thick heeled boots. He absolutely hates this. Sloppy and messy, is what he tells you when you come into the apartment with your shoes on and take them off near his studio. Taehyung stirs the contents of your mug, tossing daggers at you in his stares.

It is only now, in the thick silence, do you hear the soft voice of Sinatra through the vinyl player. Glancing over at the source, you recognize the album cover immediately. It’s the same one you gifted him for his birthday last year. His next one is in a couple of weeks. The realization unexpectedly twinges your heart with guilt. You feel as though you should have already bought his gift, and planned his party. It’s not your responsibility to do that anymore, but you want to and that’s enough for your tongue to coat with disgusted remorse.

“Want me to get you a sweater?” Taehyung asks.

You sit up straight at the close sound of his voice. He stands in front of you with the mug in his hands, glaring down at your boots. Kicking them off by the heel, you stare down at the puddle you’ve made beneath the chair. You should apologize but, instead, you thank him for the drink, take it from his hands, and make your way to the project he’s been working on. He mutters curses under his breath before cleaning up the mess you’ve made… As he should.

You smirk into your cup before taking a sip. Hot chocolate. It’s all he can make, or cares to make. And though it is not your favourite drink, he still prepares it to your specifications. Extra sweet and creamy, with a dash of ginger. Could the habits of your past be muscle memory he cannot shake either?

The answer never arrives as your thoughts halt at the sight of his sculpture. Though returned back onto its pedestal, the torso seems to have endured a terrible fall. He’s so careful about things like this. How could he have let it happen? Was the inner wiring he used too heavy? Did he not use enough slip, otherwise known as wet clay, to keep additions in place?

You bite the inside of your cheeks to school your features. Still, there is no hiding the truth. Especially when it’s right in front of you. Redemption is nonexistent. The sculpture is ruined. Tilting your head, you stare at the unfinished molding and try to figure out how to fix it without adding more clay, since he claimed on the phone that he doesn’t have enough to start over.

“Well?” He asks behind you.

Looking back at him, you take another sip then hand him the cup to hold. Taehyung accepts it, bringing the mug to his lips. The gesture is so simple, so casual that you almost miss it. He did it a lot when you two were together. You did it too. It was never a pet peeve but rather something you were proud of. It proved how close you two were, how well you meshed. Sharing food is common between lovers. Only now, that’s not at all what you are.

You stare at him, mouth gape. He licks his lips before taking another sip. The action repairs your heart only for your reality to wreck it all over again. Catching your eye, he raises his brows in confusion. You flicker your gaze between him and the cup, hoping the silent gesture is enough to return his senses.

Eyes widening, he holds the cup away from his face. “Oh,” he hums under his breath. “I’ll, uh, get you a new one.”

“Don’t bother,” you shrug before he can even turn towards the kitchen. “It’s not that big a deal.”

It is. You’re not his and neither is that hot chocolate. He should know better. He should pay attention more. He can see this all in your eyes as you continue to silently judge him. It’s not that big a deal, you repeat to yourself. The way his large eyes soften, the way he pouts is not that big a deal. You have a job to do, feelings to ignore, and a person to never see again. All you have to do is remold the clay and be on your way.

Finally returning your attention to the sculpture, you approach it while pulling your hair back. It’s rather large since he scaled it to be life-sized, so you assume he has some structural wiring in there to keep it in place when molding. You might have to take it out and remold the entire section. But maybe you can simply push the wiring back in place? However, if your theory about the wiring being too heavy is correct, you might face another smash to the floor. So it seems easier to just pull it all out.

“Is the clay still wet?” You ask before poking the shoulder.

It’s tacky, but that’s not enough to keep it from drying. You scan the room for the spray bottle, finding it behind you. Being a sculptor yourself, you know that the clay has to stay wet enough to be able to continue to add and mold it. Your scan of the room reflects that he is close to finishing the project. He has the muse’s head and arms wrapped in air-tight bags to keep them from drying. They just need to be slipped, slid, and smoothed into place. The details also need to be added, but for the most part, he’s just about done.

“If you’re gonna figure it out yourself, why did you ask me?” He sighs as he sets the mug down near a cup of paint water.

His tone is uncalled for. Nothing seems to have changed. He still has a temper and makes no effort to readjust his attitude. You toss him a glare over your shoulder. After spraying some water over the sculpture, you start to dig your fingers into the molding. Taehyung sucks in a sharp breath behind you. You can’t blame him for such a reaction. It must be very disturbing to watch someone else dig through your hard work.

You take off the clay bit by bit, looking for the metal structure wires he must’ve used to keep it all shaped well. However, as you place another chunk on the table, you begin to realize that the sculpture is not hollow, meaning wires have not been used. He simply ventilated the slab of clay to help air bubbles escape when it comes time to fire it.

Furrowing your brows, you look over at him in confusion. He leans back against his work table with his arms crossed over his chest, staring at you. Is this a joke? He doesn’t need your help. He could’ve dug through the smushed clay and remorphed it himself. He’s more experienced than you are; he should’ve known this.

Your anger begins to fester in your chest. He must’ve heard. You still share some mutual friends, so he must’ve heard down the line that you were going out with somebody else tonight. Your outfit of choice is a clear indicator as well. He found out about your date, your first date in the last four months you’ve been broken up, and just needed to ruin it for you. Fuck, you can’t believe you seriously bought his lies again. It’s that stupid voice of his. So deep and soulful, you can never resist it’s lulling temptations.

“What?” Taehyung pushes himself off the table and walks towards you. “You’re pouting like you always do just before you’re about to shout. Is it that bad?”

Is that what he’s doing now? He’s trying to remind you how well he knows you, how well he can read you? If this is just another reminder that no one is like him, you just might prove him right and scream out of frustration. Huffing, you roll your eyes at him. No matter how much your heart flips and flutters at his concern, you will not fall for his stupid games.

He watches in confusion as you clean your hands off with a cloth. “God, (Y/N), what is it? I thought you said you knew how to do this.”

With a dry chuckle, you shake your head and mumble, “You’re still the same liar you’ve always been, Taehyung.”

The perplexed sculptor narrows his eyes. “What did I tell you about mumbling?” He questions in a grumble. “And what the hell are you going on about anyways?”

His tendency to be a walking contradiction will never cease to irk you. He tells you not to mumble then does it himself. Just another pet peeve he’s instilled in you that you can never shake. Then there’s the continuous lies he can never seem to stop telling. For once, why can’t he just be honest?

You toss the dirty cloth at him and make your way to his precious work table only to find that he moved your things to the chair by the door. You rush in that direction instead, and Taehyung follows not too far behind. “I can’t believe you’re still pulling this shit even when it’s over,” you scoff with a shake of your head. “You made it seem like you had no idea what to do. You guilted me into coming back here and for what? To ruin the first night I stopped thinking about you? Well, congratulations,” you drily chuckle as you grab your clutch and turn to face him. “You’ve ruined my night and my date.”

Taehyung pauses mid stride. “Oh,” he rasps, eyes roaming over your body once more. “You had a date tonight?”

Eyes wide, softened, and wet, his next words catch in his throat. All you can make out is a quiet rasp. It’s a convincing act, but you know him well enough to spot his feigned innocence from a mile away. Setting your jaw, you shake your head and sigh, “Not any more.”

You reach for your jacket, but Taehyung is quicker. He snatches it first and holds it behind him. You open your mouth to curse at him when he rushes to say, “Wait, wait.” Hand on your waist, he holds you still.

You freeze under his palm. He’s barely used much force. It’s the simple touch itself that sends you into a trance. The memories of being pinned beneath him, or guided into grinding against his hips rush back to you. Breath hitching, you try to wipe the affection from your features. The searching look in his eyes tells you how bad of a job you’re doing.

“I could fix it myself, but not by myself,” he clarifies. “I just didn’t know how to get you here without making it seem like it’s a complete disaster. Be honest, (Y/N), if I told you I wanted you to sculpt with me you wouldn’t have shown up.”

Be honest. When the fuck have you ever lied to him? The question is tempting to ask, sitting right on the tip of your tongue actually, but you can already tell that you’ve made your annoyance known as concern swims in his eyes. He’s trying to find where he went wrong in his explanation. He’s never done that before. He never notices your discomfort during a fight, but always after the fact. That’s enough to have you consider his explanation, to consider the fact that maybe he has not changed completely, but he’s trying. Perhaps you should start trying too.

Besides, he’s not wrong. If he didn’t make it seem like it was irreversible, you wouldn’t have accepted the invitation over or even thought about ditching your date. Chewing on your lip, you sigh and nod. “Fine, I’ll help you fix it.”

A relieved smile plays on his lips. He removes his hand from your waist, muttering a quiet apology then returns your jacket onto the chair. You set your clutch down on there as well, nowhere near his work, and follow him back to the sculpture. He sprays it down as you take another couple of sips from your hot chocolate.

“When is this due?” You ask as you set the mug down.

Taehyung’s gaze shakes. “At nine,” he reluctantly replies. He sets the spray bottle down. You stare at him in confusion.

The time is both seemingly vague and specific. You furrow your brows, blinking rapidly in hopes that you can reprocess the information for more clarity. When that doesn’t work, you ask, “Tonight?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

Thirteen hours? That’s all you two have to remold and detail a life-sized sculpture. This information alone would’ve had you running to help as well. Why didn’t he just tell you this? Why did he have to lie? No, nevermind his lies. You both have thirteen hours to remold the base, attach the head and arms, and add all the details on all four pieces. It may seem like a lot of time but you also have to let the clay sit for a few hours before firing. However, with a sculpture this large, it might need at least three days to dry. How did he expect to finish the rest on his own?

Nothing is adding up. You know Taehyung very well. You’ve shared sculpting classes countless times. His work comes first; always. He sketches and prepares months in advance for a project since the clay can crack or explode during its bake. How could he not have done the same thing here? He should’ve started this at least four months ago… oh.

Taehyung spares you a nervous glance. He can see the realization of his own reality in your eyes. You swallow thickly, knowing you should just pretend that you haven’t noticed anything. Still, you say, “Tae, we both know that’s not enough time. Even if we split the work, it still needs-”

“Don’t worry about that,” he mumbles. His hands smooth over every chunk of clay he reapplies. “Let’s just piece it all together, okay?”

There is a lot you have to force yourself to ignore in his words and tone. He mumbles orders, and expects you to follow. His voice is deep and cold. He gives you his back while he speaks. It’s but another pet peeve of his that makes you want to pull your own hair out. However, most of all, you have to force yourself to ignore how painful it is. Seeing him again, only an arm’s length away, crumbles your anger and hearing his voice reminds you that he still holds every bit of your heart. You have to blink your tears back at the realization. This idea reeked the moment you considered it. But, you can never stop yourself when it comes to him. A year of friendship and two of love; how can you forget all of that in four months?

Taehyung turns to you, his eyes trailing up from your hips to your chest where they linger. Flickering his gaze back up to yours, he offers a tight-lipped smile. You fail to find it in you to return it. He sighs. Hands by his side, voice heavy with sincerity, he says, “I won’t force you to stay, babe- (Y/N).” His slip up has him frozen in place as well. Clearing his throat, he continues, “I need to get this done and you’re the only other person I know who knows how I like it.”

The familiar pet name gives you pause, but the end of that sentence has you hot all over. Your eyes widen at the alternate implication of his words and you can’t help but choke on your next intake of air.

Taehyung’s expression mirrors yours. Face reddening, he’s quick to correct himself. “No, no, I just mean artistically.”

You cannot find the words to say something, anything to make this situation better. Lips parted, all you can voice are quiet croaks of uncertainty. His large eyes, wide with anxiety, watch you carefully. He’s clearly unsure of how else to soothe your discomfort. He goes to say something else but the words fall short. The scene has your skin crawling with shivers. Shaking your head, you walk around him to smooth out the clay he remolded.

“I’ll fix her waist. I think you should get started on the details,” you say, hoping his words can just fizzle away along with the awkward silence that has fallen over the both of you.

Taehyung takes a deep breath. His eyes remain trained on you for a moment, watching as you match the sculpture’s left side to her right. Then, he circles around you and makes his way to his work table.

Though you should be focused on your work, you still have one eye on Taehyung. The jumpsuit sits low on his hips, and his back is bare of any scratches. Your lasting desire to mark up the blank canvas of his back tightens your core. You can feel your black pants dampening at the thought alone. Your hand gently presses into the mold, smoothing out every piece you add.

With Sinatra’s calm voice circling around the room, you and Taehyung fall into a comfortable silence. The rhythm of your actions, the way you move around each other is like muscle memory. You can subconsciously anticipate the other’s next move and react accordingly. He hands you tools before you need to ask and you accept them without a second thought. It’s easy, comfortable, and so familiar that you almost forget he ruined your plans tonight.

Taking a step back, you wipe your wrist over your brow then assess your work. You’ve been trying to sculpt one of the figure’s breasts, adding clay and rounding out the mold. However, it seems like you’ve undershot a bit and made one mound a bit smaller than the other. You sigh and reach for more clay when Taehyung interjects.

“Leave it,” he says from his place beside you.

When did he step back too? He was just detailing one of the sculpture’s hands. “They’re uneven,” you point.

He smirks. “I like them that way.”

His eyes flicker to your chest again before meeting your gaze once more. You shouldn’t look into that gesture too much, but you do. He can’t say something like that, stare at your breasts suggestively and think you wouldn’t notice. Unless, he wants you to notice. You start to wonder how often he’s thought about your breasts and why he feels the need to incorporate them into his project.

While you remain standing in your place, Taehyung returns to his crouched position and continues his work. You can’t bring yourself to move just yet. You stare at the sculpture, at the curve of her stomach and dip of her waist. She’s full-figured and even has stretch marks on her hips, well the side that has not met the floor still has stretch marks. You need to add them on the other side. But, the shape of her body just looks all too familiar.

No, no, it can’t be. He didn’t sculpt your naked body entirely from memory. And why should he? You’re not a couple and he’s made it clear during those four months of silence that he doesn’t want anything to do with you either. No, this is merely just some consequence. You sigh and get back to work. Those thoughts completely boarded shut out of your mind.

“Were you having fun?” He suddenly asks, standing up to start detailing the sculpture’s breasts.

You glance up at him, about to ask what he means when you remember the date. “Oh,” you hum. You’re not sure how much to tell him, or if you should even entertain him with an answer at all. He’s obviously still affected by the break up if he let it get in the way of his project timeline. What was your date’s name anyway? Morgan, Mac, Mark- Mark! Yes, it was Mark something or maybe something Mark. Fuck, you can’t even remember his name. You’re not even sure where you met up for drinks.

Taehyung pauses his sculpting around the figure’s nipple. He chances a quick look at you, raising a brow. “That bad?” He teases with a playful smile.

His light-hearted tone shocks you out of your thoughts. Maybe you read the situation wrong. Maybe he is over you. Otherwise, why would he ask you about your date so casually, like you two were friends? Or maybe… he’s seeing someone else himself? Sumni did ask for your permission to date him. She was so kind and understanding in her questioning that you couldn’t refuse her. Even if it was a week ago, she would have already talked to him by now and they could’ve already gone on their own date. The sheer thought of Taehyung dating around makes your throat tighten and stomach ache.

“I didn’t stay long enough to make up my mind,” you reply, trying your best not to mumble. Your voice is small though, and tone shot by misery. A wave of hopelessness washes over you at how final everything between you and him feels again. “I don’t think he’s for me though.”

Taehyung hums in acknowledgment or understanding? You don’t know. You can’t pull yourself out of your self pity long enough to decipher it. “Poor guy,” he mutters as he picks up where he left off on the sculpture’s breast.

You carve uneven lines on the figure’s hips, recreating some stretch marks like he had done to the other side. Raising your brows, you question, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs a single shoulder. “I just know what it’s like to lose someone as great as you,” he explains in a near whisper. “The poor guy is gonna lose his mind.”

Tears sting your eyes. He can’t do this. He can’t guilt you for leaving him, not when you both know that it’s just as much his fault as it is yours. Still, even in the midst of pain, the kindness laced in his words tugs the corners of your lips into a small smile. Is that what happened to him? Did this poor guy, this poor little sculptor lose his mind when he lost you?

You toss him a sidelong glance, whispering, “He’ll survive.”

“He can only pray to.”

What is this? What is he trying to say? So he regrets the way that things ended, perhaps even that they ended entirely. Does he think you don’t? Nothing can change how you feel for him. Nothing can hide how badly you wish you can still call him your own. But, he said it himself. He does not want you around, in such close proximity to him anymore. Two years into, what you thought was, a serious relationship and he does not want you living with him.

“I’ll grow tired of us,” he said. Or does he not remember? Did he forget how he promised he’d get you a key, or help you pack? Did he forget how high he got your hopes? Has the fear of getting bored of your company finally withered away?

What does it even matter now? You both said things you haven’t even attempted to take back. Not a single apology has been issued either. Whatever relationship you once had is gone. You can never get it back. Still, you don’t have the stomach to break it to him. You can’t destroy the last little bit of hope he has in you. You can’t find it in you to tell him that no amount of prayer will get you to willingly return to such a relationship.

“He hasn’t been in my company for too long to miss me. Actually, I’m worried he’s already grown tired of it,” you reply. Guilt immediately sheds your pettiness. You know you shouldn’t have said that. Though, he did egg you on. How could he have expected to bring up such a subject and think that you wouldn’t retaliate?

Taehyung tenses and shifts his jaw, giving the impression that he’s chewing gum, and turns to glare at you. From experience alone, you know very well that when Taehyung chews on his imaginary piece of gum, he’s either cocky, pissed or both. This time he has tears glassing over his eyes. Shame cringes your heart. You can’t bring yourself to look at him again. Getting even does not feel as dignifying as you thought it would. You cannot even find a shred of pleasure in seeing him so speechless.

Parting your lips, you try to soothe the sting of your words, only they all fall short. Every time you try to recollect them, they wither away. It’s almost like your mind is warning you from worsening the situation. But the silence is deafening. Sinatra's voice cannot even fill it. His disappointment is too loud; the shattering of his heart like an explosion. And your pain can never shut up. All you can hear is how miserable your soul is and how depressed your heart becomes upon every glance his way. It’s the soft look in his eyes, even when he’s glaring, and the little scrunch of his nose.

With a deep breath, you turn back to the sculpture to keep your hands busy. As you use the pad of your pinkie to smoothen out the stretch mark lines you’ve carved, you say, “We had a drink. That’s as far as we got.”

Taehyung clears his throat. His hands pick up where they left off around the nipple. “Had I known you were out, I wouldn’t have called,” he sighs.

You try not to scoff, particularly because he sounds surprisingly sincere. Sneaking a glance up at him from your squatting position on the floor, you try to search for his usual tell-tale signs. He always blinks one too many times in the same two minute span when he’s lying, that’s if he’ll even meet your gaze. He’s already looking at you when you begin to search his features. He holds your stare and you start to worry that you wrongfully cursed him before when you were convinced that he knew.

“You really didn’t know?”

He shakes his head. “Why would anyone tell me you’re going on a date?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Would you want to hear that I have been on one?”

“Have you?”

Internally cringing, you snap your attention back on the sculpture. The question simply slipped out. He must know that. Of course you’re curious about his love life since you’ve left it, but you don’t need him to know that. And even if he was prying into your date tonight, you still don’t feel comfortable with him knowing that you’ve been wondering about him too, worrying that he’s found the love of his life and forgotten all about you.

Taehyung chuckles. “Do you really want to know?”

Three? Four? Five? How many dates did he have to go on to be able to ask such a question? You hold your breath the moment you feel your next intake waver. Running your tongue between the gaps of your teeth, you stand up and begin detailing the left breast.

“I’m not going to beg you,” you grumble under your breath while sculpting the nipple. Your eyes shift from the one you're working on to the one he perfected, making sure they’re at least even.

“Never had a problem with that before.”

He does not mutter it. He does not whisper it. He chuckles through the statement, cockiness dripping from his tone. Shooting him a glare, you find his jaw moving, the imaginary gum returning. Taehyung smirks at you, eyes dancing over your features like he’s figured you all out.

You raise your brows at him, lips slightly parted by a little smile. “Once again, Taehyung, your memory has miserably failed you,” you start only to widen his grin.

“How so?”

“You’ve been on your knees far more times than I’ve been on mine. You’ve whined louder too.”

He leans in, wrist against his stomach as he lets out a hearty laugh. You feel a rush of your arousal pool at your core just from the simple sound. Face growing hot, you realize how much you’ve missed this, missed him. He always laughed with his whole body, clutching onto you when clutching on his stomach never granted him any stability. Sometimes he’d brace his teeth in a boxy smile and let out his deep chuckles that way. So endearing, so cute, Taehyung would always loop you in his laughing fit as well.

Biting on the sides of your cheeks, you keep yourself from joining in this time. “Why is that so funny?”

Taehyung shakes his head at you as his laughter dies down. With a smile still gracing his features, he replies, “You’re always begging for me. Oh, I remember once you were on the table and you won’t let go of me and until I, and I quote, ‘rammed into you with the force of a thousand waterfalls.’”

Shit. You remember that day all too clearly. Taehyung had been painting and you were somewhere in the kitchen sketching his hands from a distance since he would always tease you about that. Somehow you found out he’d been painting you nude from memory and wanted to help him out. You began stripping for him, inching closer with every piece of clothing you shed. He watched you draw closer to him, and there was something about the way his eyes drank you in that you could not shake. It just made you giddy all over, dripping for his love by the time you were fully naked and within his reach. You were so horny, you said anything to make sure he ruined you.

Avoiding his eye, you reluctantly reply, “I do not recall.”

That statement tips him off immediately. His endearing innocence darkens; you don’t even need to look over to witness it happen. You can feel it. You can feel his demeanour change. Taehyung sets whatever tool he’s using down and towers over you. Stilling in place, you let him graze the bridge of his nose in your hair.

“Do you want me to remind you,” he whispers before pressing his lips to your ear, adding, “my muse?”

Knees all but trembling, you have to remind yourself to keep your eyes open. His warm breath fans over your skin, prickling goosebumps all over. His fingertips brush up the length of your spine, streaking your back with clay and leaving a chain of shiver in their wake. Then there’s that little pet name. Your soul shudders to hear it again while your core waters.

What does he even mean? How far is he willing to go to remind you how badly you wanted him?

Breath shaky, you gingerly meet his gaze. Noses brushing, you try to ignore how good he smells. His scent is always a cross between chalky clay and citrusy cherries. A whine threatens to slip out and you have to swallow thickly just to silence it. “You can try,” you whisper only to feel his hands on your hips.

The grey clay stains the hem of your black pants and a majority of your skin. Taehyung turns you towards him then presses himself against you. His semi-hard rubs against your stomach, making him groan. Seems like he’s falling apart faster than you are. Did he miss this too? Miss the way you smell, the way it feels to be near you again?

You rest your arms on his shoulders and he guides you around and back to his work table. It’s almost like a little dance, with the quiet music still playing in the background. Faces only a breath apart, the temptation to kiss him only grows. But giving in would only prove him right. After so many months, you cannot grant him this victory of being right, especially since he was the one in the wrong when you left.

When the back of your thighs meet the edge of the table, Taehyung shifts his hands down to your ass, gripping tightly and he lifts you up against him and onto the table. You have to choke back a moan just from the rough grip. Your lips brush against each other’s, but neither one of you is willing to bite the bullet first.

“Any of this familiar yet?” Taehyung asks. His voice is almost an octave deeper, saturated in lust and desire.

Smirking, you shake your head.

Taehyung tongues his cheek and cocks a brow. He leans back a bit, hands circling around your waist to rest on your thick thighs. His cocky grin widens as he pushes them further apart. One of his hands shifts up to your crotch, thumb grazing the seams. Face lighting up, Taehyung glances down at your crotch and brushes over it once more.

“No panites?” He questions with a chuckle. “This is looking more and more like that night then I thought it would.”

The confidence he oozes should annoy you, but you find yourself only spreading your legs further for him. Whenever he’s acting this egotistic, you cannot help but respond to it by giving yourself to him. This is a fact he knows well and uses to his advantage any time he’s ever felt like it.

You try to keep your wits about you, saying, “I wouldn’t know.”

Taehyung suddenly leans in. Your breath hitches at the realization that he’s swallowing his pride, that he’s finally going to kiss you. You’ve been dreaming about his lips for months, wondering how you’d be able to find someone else who just fits ever so perfectly against your lips. Eyes fluttering closed, lips in a faint pucker, you’ve inhaled deeply only to have him kiss your chin. He chuckles quietly against your skin, licking his way to your jawline all while leaving you breathless.

“You’re about to,” he growls.

As your body is in the midst of reacting, he somehow digs his nails into the seams of your pants and tears them apart. You gasp, shifting your hands from his shoulder to the edge of the table. You cannot help but stare down at the tear in amazement. Questions on how and why die in your throat when you find that Taehyung’s attention is not even on you anymore. He’s tightening his grip on your thighs and gazes down at your pussy. It pulses under his gaze, much to his own amazement.

Squatting down, he licks his lips at this new angle. “Well, fuck,” he whispers. “How long have you needed me?”

Four months, you wish you had the courage to say. Instead you breathlessly reply, “I’m not sure this is what happened that night.”

“How would you know? I thought you didn’t remember.”

He’s only teasing but his tone is accusatory. You already know it’s because you’ve refused to answer his previous question. And your decision to talk back only adds to his shift in demeanour. Once cheeky, his features darken into something closer to vexation. You’ve pushed the wrong buttons it would seem.

Narrowing his eyes, he orders, “Tell me, my muse. Tell me how long you’ve been needing me.”

You suck in a sharp breath. Pressing your lips together in a fine line, you refuse to make another sound, let alone utter another word. You’ll be damned if you have to admit that you regret walking away, that you cannot even remember the details of your date because all you could think about was everything he would do differently. Having to admit that for the last four months all you’ve been able to do is touch yourself to the thought of him or cry wouldn’t just be motifying but shameful and pathetic.

With a slow nod, Taehyung sighs. You think this is it. He’s ripped your pants apart, looked at every inch of your barest part, and teased you all for nothing. You’d maybe ask to borrow some pants, and he might give you some. But, other than that, nothing would’ve come from this interaction. The flirty comments and knowing looks would disappear with your relationship, this you feel you are sure of.

Then, he plays against your expectations; something you should have expected. Just when you’re about to bring your legs together, Taehyung spreads them apart further and shoves his face between them. He cannot use his hands there since they are covered in clay and, it seems, he also refuses to use his tongue. You cannot hold back the moans that pour out of you with every ministration. Merely smearing his face into your heat, Taehyung teases your clit. The bridge of his nose trails between your folds, lips pressing wet kisses to your tightening hole. From left to right, he shakes his face against your pussy.

You buck your hips against his lips, lacking shame and restraint. “Tae,” you moan, voice breaking.

Taehyung pulls away. Heaving and eyes half-lidded, he smirks up at you. He’s drenched in your arousal, looking like the cat who got the cream. “How long?” He mewls.

“Gimme your tongue,” you whine.

Taehyung mockly pouts up at you. He always looks prettiest on his knees, pretending to be in charge from such a degrading position. “Would you tell me then, babe?”

Your hips inadvertently roll at the pet name. You love it when he babies you like that, when he makes you feel so precious and fragile even though you both know you can rule over anything you want. Hesitantly, you nod. He raises a brow, waiting for verbal confirmation that you’ll tell him once he gives you his tongue.

With a little shrug of a single shoulder, you reply, “Why don’t you give it a try, TaeTae.”

His left eye twitches. You know exactly how that name affects him. His anger and powerful demeanor tremble when you dwell on him like that. He doesn’t need to tell you that he’s suddenly yours to overtake; his large eyes do the trick.

Swiping his tongue over his lips, Taehyung cleans his mouth from you. One little taste and his pupils expand, blown by lust and hunger. You don’t have to waste anymore time convincing him that you’d answer his question if he goes down on you. Your taste seems to be enough of a factor, in itself. He dips his head back in, tongue out this time. The tip pushes through your hole, lapping up your pooling juices. Leaning back on your hands, you gasp a loud moan. He knows his way around so well. One flick up, and your toes are curling. No amount of time apart has disturbed his memory of you. This may have been something you noticed while sculpting but now you can feel it. Tongue in and out, warm and wet, Taehyung explores your pussy like it’s his first time, only he knows everything about it.

You want to tangle your fingers in his hair, to see how the long strands feel in your hand, but they’re covered in clay too. And you know from experience just how hard it is to get clay out of hair. Once it completely dries, it almost seems like the only other option is to cut it all out. So, instead, you just dig your nails into the table, engraving your presence in the wood.

Rolling your hips into his face, you cry out your pleasure. Your legs are shaking, squeezing around his face, but he can’t seem to care any less. In fact, judging by his groans and growls, he seems to love the suffocation. He even pushes your legs further against his cheeks. Freezing in place, Taehyung only allows his tongue to continue to swirl around your pussy. His fingers harshly press into your thighs, sure to leave bruises, but you don’t care. Having him mark you up just like when you were together, is enough to make your eyes roll back.

You’re so, so close. Pussy clenching, his tongue still pushes its way in. He’s determined to see you through, to have you unfold right in his hands so hard that he still won’t breathe. And though you start to worry a bit, you cannot really pay attention to anything else besides the pleasure.

“Oh, Tae,” you cry. Voice breathy and high-pitched, it’s only a matter of time before-

It hits you hard, fast, and completely off guard. You have felt it growing and knotting in the pit of your stomach, but have no idea it would rush at you this harshly that you completely fall back on the table. Body convulsing, you scream and cream all over his tongue, mouth, and chin. His entire face will smell like you for days.

Taehyung forces your tightening legs apart, gasping for air. Gazing up at you, he sticks his tongue out and against your clit. He’s determined to help you ride out your high and nods his head up and down. You watch him through blurry vision, shamelessly rocking your hips up to meet him halfway. Or, at least you try to. Soon, you become all too sensitive to even hold his gaze, let alone grind against his tongue.

You fight against his hold on your legs, whining loudly. “Okay, okay,” you gasp as you try to seat yourself up.

He doesn’t care. That once yielding look in his eyes flashes into a demanding one. Seeing you so helpless under him shocks him with power once again. “One more time,” he pants against your heat.

“TaeTae,” you mewl, attempting to manipulate your way out of this overstimulated feast.

However, the use of the name this time, only spurs him on. He knows what you’re trying to do and doesn’t at all find it amusing. This time when he repeats his words, he growls, “One more time!”

Lips suctioning around your clit, he harshly sucks. Slurping and swallowing everything you have to offer, Taehyung holds your gaze. You’re a trembling mess. Tears falling freely down your face, you curse him three times over and buck your hips against his mouth. He finds the entire sight so humorous, he can’t help but smirk.

You’re still his little toy, a play thing for him to fool around with and test out some kinks on. The realization should make you curse him again and again, but you can only play into it. Pouting and mewling, you’ve fully sold yourself out just so Taehyung is well fed with your juices.

This is the peak of his games, you think. This is as far as he will go and you expect that you’ll cum in another minute or so. But then his teeth graze your clit once, twice, three times. You come undone within seconds. Arching your back, you let out the neediest cry you’ve ever heard and pathetically cum against his chin. The shudders and shivers of your body are beyond your control, as is your broken voice and any lasting grip you thought you had on reality.

As if biting and sucking your clit isn’t mindbreaking enough, Taehyung dips his tongue back in you to sneak another taste. “Taehyung, please,” you beg. “Please!”

He finally lets up, removing his face from your sopping heat and releasing his hold on your legs. You instantly bring them together and hug them into your chest. Heaving and shedding your last few tears, you try to recompose yourself and the silent atmosphere you once shared while sculpting.

“Strange,” he starts, returning to his feet. He takes his hands in yours, slowly unwrapping the hug you’ve cocooned yourself in. “It sounds a lot like that night. But, that’s not at all what I was doing then to make you this needy.”

To anyone else, you would've looked fucked out and completely ruined. But Taehyung knows that’s not at all the case. He has tested your stamina enough to know that you can most likely go for another round or two. Pulling your legs apart, he stands between them then helps sit you back up.

Faces inches away, you exchange breaths. “How long have you been this needy, my muse?” He asks again.

He really does smell like you. His cheeks, nose, chin, and lips are smeared with your cum. It doesn’t even look like he was feasting. It almost looks like he just wanted to cover his face with your juices. Gulping, you consider his question. You did insinuate that you’d answer the question if he gave you his tongue. And, holy fuck, did he give it to you. However, an insinuation is not a promise. He made that clear during your last argument.

“I don’t remember promising anything,” you whisper in a light pant.

The pain in his eyes cannot be neither mistaken nor missed. Echoing his words all these months later, surely recalls suppressed emotions of misery and betrayal for the both of you. He sneers a smirk, glaring at your lips. “Your memory has failed you,” he hisses. Gripping onto your hips, marking you there with bruises as well, he adds, “But, I won’t.”

“Not again, anyway.”

You sound colder than he does which causes him to hesitate for a moment. His hands fall by his sides as he searches your face for some sort of confirmation to continue. He almost seems like he’s not sure if he really wants to pick up where he left off too, seeing that you’re still upset with him. The guilt of seeing him so fragile and wounded eats away the majority of your anger. But, if he thinks he’s the only one struggling to make sense of this break up, he’s wrong.

Right now, the only way you can think of showing that to him is by first displaying your eagerness to continue in this sexual stroll down memory lane. You lean forward, brushing the tip of your nose against his, and reach down to his crotch. The dent in his jumpsuit throbs in your hand. His hard cock all but pulses under your palm as you rub at it. His breath hitches. You then untie the sleeves of his jumpsuit and watch carefully as his cock comes back into view. Fuck, you’ve forgotten just how pretty it is when it’s all pink tipped and desperate to be pumped. He shifts a bit, you assume to step out of the jumpsuit, and resettles his hands back on your waist.

Not another moment of uncertainty stands between you anymore. Swallowing his pride, Taehyung kisses you first. Lips on lips, the taste of yourself on his tongue has you moaning already. He seems to take this as a sign to let himself go as well. He pulls you closer to the edge of the table and rolls his hips into yours. The length of his dick rubs between your folds, but he doesn’t enter. Not yet. He simply teases the idea of entering, of ruining you.

But, you’re too overstimulated to enjoy it in its entirety. Your legs resume their little shudders at the tiniest bit of friction when his cock just happens to brush against your clit. Taehyung, upon noticing this, makes sure to touch it with every new grind against you. He smirks when you whimper into his mouth and chuckles a bit when you break the kiss to whine his name.

“What is it, baby,” he coos. He grounds his hips harder into yours, erupting moans from the both of you. “Ah, shit, I could just cum like this,” he hisses as his mouth hovers over yours.

A little smirk tugs on your lips at his words. Yes, you may be helplessly falling apart with every passing second. However, watching him come undone from the impression of your pussy against his cock, is a rather prideful moment. You tilt your head and begin peppering his chin and cheeks with open mouthed kisses, staining his face with your saliva now as well as your cum.

“Then, just cum, TaeTae,” you whine.

Perhaps if you didn’t sound so desperate, he probably would’ve switched back into his own submissive state. But, it’s the squeal in your voice and mischief in your tone that only drives him further down his power trip. He pulls away a bit, holding your horny gaze with an unimpressed one of his own. He realigns his hips as his jaw shifts. He’s pretending to chew gum again. Holy shit, he’s going to fuck you senseless.

He does not push into you though. Instead, he pulls you onto him by the deadly grip he has on your hips. You stare up at him as a loud cry escapes you with every inch that stretches your walls. Taehyung looks back with very little remorse in his eyes. The sight of you so small in his arms, whipped for his cock, makes his tip twitch a bit. But he is not immune to the action of entering you, sucking in a sharp breath.

“I can’t believe I forgot how tight you were,” he whispers, voice breaking.

And you thought you could never forget how big he is, but here you are. Eyes rolling back, you relish in his size like it the first time. “Big,” you mewl as he bottoms out. “Tae, you’re so big.” You sound just as broken as he does.

He cannot even find it in him to be cocky about it. He hears the realization in your voice. He knows you’ve forgotten too. A flash of pain twinkles in his eyes. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and whisper. “Remind me, Taehyung.” His brows quirk up and you add, “Remind me how good you make me feel. And I’ll remind you the same.”

Taehyung presses a gentle kiss on your forehead. Then, his hips snap in action. Holding you close, he starts hard and fast. He’s naked and growling into your ear with every thrust. You’re clothed and whining with every rumble of his chest and jerk of his hips. You didn’t even have to beg to bring out such a feral side of him. Could it be that he’s looking for the same thing you are? A lost lover?

Clay smeared fingers pressing into his skin, you push away that thought and scratch at his back. That once blank canvas of muscle and skin will now be lined with your lov- lust. This is just lust. You have to remind yourself of this fact every time he pushes into you.

He quietly hisses with each streak until he pauses his thrusts. You pout, leaning back a bit to ask if anything is wrong. But before you can even part your lips, Taehyung is readjusting his grip from your hips to your tube top.

“You’re a fucking slut to dress like this for him,” he growls. Then, in one swift motion, he pulls it down. You gasp as your breasts spill out, not out of exposure, but simply shock. He grips onto the rolled down top and smirks. “They’re a little uneven,” he points out. “But, I like that about them. Does he too? Does he get to see you like this, slut?”

You’ve got it wrong. It’s not your use of his nickname that has sent him spiralling into a pit of dominance, but rather that you went out to see another man. Is that why he ripped your pants apart? He’s destroying the outfit he thinks you wore for somebody else. Not only that, but his words only confirm that he is indeed sculpting you. All from memory, Taehyung has been molding your naked body down to the precise imperfection of your slightly uneven breasts.

And while you’re still trying to make sense of it all, he slaps one of them causing you to moan and throw your head back. Taehyung grabs a hold of your chin and drags your head back down to meet his gaze. “Answer me,” he seethes. “How much of you does he have?”

“None!” You shout. Your breathing is uneven, and you have to swallow the lump in your throat to continue, “I don’t even remember his name; he’s irrelevant.”

Taehyung circles his hips around yours, clearly pleased with your reply. But he does not pick up where he left off. “You haven’t been able to remember a lot tonight. Is that all irrelevant to you too?”

The shake of your head is reactive. You barely even had to think about it. This act of pretending that you don’t feel anything for him anymore has clearly fallen. “That’s not it, Taehyung,” you whine, hooking a leg around his waist. He wipes the tears streaming down your face as you continue, “I just didn’t want to remember us.”

Licking his lips, Taehyung slowly pulls out and eases himself back in. You tremble, watery eyes twitching in bliss. “Tell me how long you’ve been needy, baby,” he whispers.

“Have I not said enough already?”

You clutch onto his biceps and buck your hips up to meet his. He gasps, unable to hide his smile. You can tell he wants to finish this conversation but, with the way your walls are tightening around him, he doesn’t seem like he’s able to. One look in his eyes and you can tell he’s consumed by the pleasure all too much to reply.

Taehyung lets one hand fall to his side when he starts to pick up his pace. You shift one of your hands to his shoulders while the other holds onto the table’s edge. He holds you by the grip he has on your rolled tube top and smacks his hips against yours. It’s almost as if he’s riding a horse with the way he’s fucking you. And if you don’t whine loud enough, he’d slap each of your tits and force those screams out of you, growling, “You can do better than that.”

Removing your hands off him and back to the table, you accidentally rest your hand on one of his palettes. You gasp, looking over to find your hand smeared with blue and yellow hues. Taehyung laughs and rams into you faster. “You’re just making a mess wherever you go, hmm?” he teases.

You pout. He’s having too much fun making a mockery of you. Granted, you’re loving the attention, the way he’s fucking you into submission and realization, but you cannot let all this go to his head too much. As he smacks your breasts once more, nipples a little raw as they sting, you wipe your hand on him, down from his cheek to his collarbone.

He gasps, but his hips never stutter. Before you can even register his actions, Taehyung readjusts his grip from your top to your breasts and shoves his face between them. He transfers the swirl of dark blue and gold all over you as he fucks you as senseless as you predicted.

And as he playfully punishes you, blowing raspberries into your chest, you find yourself missing this, missing him. How could you have forgotten he likes to get playful, that he can switch between his two demeanours so seamlessly? He giggles when he pushes your breast into his face and further stains them with paint.

“The only one making a mess is you,” you rush to whine as your impending orgasm nears.

Dipping your hand in more paint, you rub the colours on his back and shoulders. You’re going to colour him yours if this is the last thing the two of you do together. Paint on his skin, in his hair, all over him, you’re going to make your impression here last through all the moans and whines and lewd slouches of your sensitive wetness around him.

Taehyung kisses his way up to your lips. He slips his tongue in once he reaches them and rolls his hips into you particularly harder than before. He can feel that he’s got you trailing the edge of your high. Thrust upwards, Taehyung reaches your most sensitive place. Every ram into it makes you shudder, toes curling and moans pouring into his mouth. One of his hands shifts up to your breast, massaging the smeared paint in, while the other holds your hips in place.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whines against your lips. “Come back to me.”

He can’t do this. He can’t beg you to come back with his dick shoved so deep in you like this. You’re so fucking close and he knows this. He can feel every inch of you tighten around him and desperate to be released. It’s cruel of him to manipulate you like this, to kiss you like he’s lost in the moment when he’s really just lost in you.

Kissing his way to your ear, Taehyung feels your pussy quiver. He smirks, thrusting hard enough to move the table back, and growls in your ear, “Come back to me, my muse. Cum.”

You fall back onto the table, body a total shaking shock as your orgasm washes over every inch of you. With one hand trembling over your lips, your other grabs onto one of your tits in an effort to brace yourself from the rush of ecstasy that overcomes you. The moans and whines that leave you are no exception to your convulsing state. Their breathless, broken, and blaring as you practically scream out in bliss.

Taehyung enjoys the show, watching you forget how to breathe from his place between your legs. He’s still going fast and hard, groaning when he feels you coat his cock in your cum. Mesmerized by the sight of your unheld breast bouncing with each of his thrust, he slaps it. You squeal at the sting.

And as you try to look at him, still riding out your orgasm, Taehyung’s cock twitches only to paint your inner walls with his missed affections. He falls forward, over you, burying his face between your tits again. You push them into his face and shake them against his cheeks, hearing him growl over your heart.

At some point, he stops thrusting and opts to circling his hips into yours. It’s all the same to you. Your legs continue to shake and your heart still races. Drenched in sweat, paint, and clay, you two lie there for a second longer. Even while growing limp, Taehyung feels so full in you.

He peels himself off you. His face, glistening in paint, looks like Van Gogh’s starry night, his eyes being the sparkling stars. He smirks down at you before trailing his gaze lower. That smile falls with every part of you he realizes he has ruined. Your chest is exposed and covered in colours, shirt non existent, pants clay stained and torn straight down the middle, and pussy a sopping mess of your mixed cum when he pulls out.

“I did make a mess,” he pants.

One step back, then two, then three. He distances himself from you as if ashamed of his work. You slowly sit up and cross your legs. Already, they feel strained and sore. But, they’re the least of your worries. It's the way that Taehyung winces at the sight of you, that has your heart somersaulting into your stomach. You swallow thickly between heaving pants and watch him carefully. He’s completely bare and looks even more broke than you do. His gaze looks vague and face sickly. Shaking his head, Taehyung runs a hand through his hair. He looks so annoyed with himself, he cannot even find it in him to laugh at the fact that he only got more paint in his hair.

Crossing your arms over your chest to cover yourself up a bit, you say, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He blinks repeatedly, snapping his attention back up at you. “Why aren’t you disturbed by this?” He questions, voice all but breaking.

Your eyes scan up and down his frame before your brows knit together in confusion. Is he referring to his naked body, or that the two of you just came to the thought of dating each other again? Still, why is either of those things worth being disturbed over? A naked Taehyung post sex has never been a bad sight and, though things did end horribly, the thought of being with him again doesn’t seem so bad now. Did he not mean it when he asked you to come back? Was it just something to get off to? Are you just something to get off to?

“What?” You whisper now that your anxious train of thought has robbed your voice.

“Aren’t you dating?” He clarifies. “That poor guy. I can’t believe I just let us do that.”

You’ve never seen him this distressed. He walks back to you, just to grab his jumpsuit and briefs. He can’t even bear to look at you as you stare back at him in complete confusion. What does he think happened here? That you cheated? Clenching your jaw, you can't believe that he could think that low of you. Then again, you never did blatantly say that it was your first date since the break up. In fact, now that you think about it, you did make it seem like you were in a relationship with someone else.

Taehyung hastily gets dressed as you try to hop off the table without falling on your face from how weak your legs are after such a fucking. “Tae,” you start only to have him walk away. With a sigh, you call after him. He ignores you.

What the hell are you supposed to do now? You sure as hell can’t follow him with your legs so sore and he doesn’t seem to want to talk to you. And even if you could walk, your clothes are ruined and it would take a while for an uber to get here with all the snow coming down out there. The distant spray of the shower directs your attention to the hallway Taehyung escaped down to get away from you. Great, he’s showering and left you here to figure this all out yourself.

Taking a seat on the floor, you decide to give your legs a moment to rest before ordering yourself an uber and hoping that this night ends soon. You should’ve listened to your gut and rejected his call. You shouldn’t have agreed to this, or come here, or let him remind you just how much you miss and love him. All you ever wanted was- is him. If it haven’t been for this whole stupid issue about moving in, you’d still have him.

But, no. You had to force him into a step he wasn’t ready for. You lost him then and you came back to watch yourself lose him again. Is that it? Is that why you didn’t even explain yourself to the poor guy that was sitting across from you at Rollos. Yes, Rollos; that’s where you went for drinks. Wow, your memory really hasn’t served you well tonight. You hope you forget this tomorrow. You hope you'll be able to forget how pathetic you feel, how hurt he sounds, and how you lost him all over again.

“Get up,” Taehyung orders. His voice is rough, like he had been sobbing.

Looking over to him, you find that could’ve actually been the case. His face is tear streaked now as well as paint smeared. He stands a good few feet away from you, glaring down at your woefully ruined frame. “Taehyung, I’m not-”

He doesn’t seem to want to hear any of it. “Get up,” he repeats. “Go shower. I have some clothes for you to wear then I’m taking you home.”

“Tae, just liste-”

“Delete my number. We never talk about this again. And if you’re at all like the person I loved, you’d tell him the truth.”

Is he seriously judging you right now? You’ve barely even had a chance to explain yourself. He really doesn’t want to listen to anything you have to say, cutting you off like you’re less than him. You cannot help but scoff at him and his words.

Taehyung sighs. “Just please get up, (Y/N).”

“I’m not dating anyone.”

His superiority falls. The life returns to his face as he approaches you but you recoil into yourself the moment he steps forward. Pausing, he tilts his head at you. “What is it?”

What is it? This man is going to be the death of you. “You just shamed me for something that wasn’t true, Taehyung!” You shout.

“I thought you were cheating with me!”

You use the table to help yourself up and dryly chuckle. “Ha, yeah because lying is such a normal thing to do, right? I’m as twisted as you, Taehyung.”

“I lied because I knew saying no would hurt you. Why can’t you see that I was just looking out for you?”

That one sentence makes you freeze in place. Is he really that fucking dense? He can’t seriously believe that looking out for someone you love involves lying. Slowly turning to face him, you don't even make an effort to hide your tears anymore. “You were looking out for yourself and you know it!”

“I just didn’t-”

“Want to grow tired of me.” You finish for him in a mocking tone.

Taehyung huffs, shaking his head. “That’s not what I was going to say. Would you just let me finish?”

You’re done with this stupid conversation. All you want to do is go home and get as far away as possible from him and the way he smells and the fact that even though you hate him so much right now, you want him to come and hug you and tell you everything is going to be okay. But, he’s just so annoying. And you can’t bear to look at him anymore with that cold glare consistently being directed towards you. You’ll wait outside for the uber. Hell, you’ll just walk back to your apartment. Anything to get out of here and away from him.

In an attempt to follow through, you try to make your way towards the door, but your legs almost instantly give out.

“Jesus, babe,” Taehyung hisses, rushing to your side.

It’s not even just the fact that you’re sore but your ripped pants are starting to rub up against your cum leaking pussy. You whine a bit and try to shake him off in order to jump back onto the table. But, you’re thankful he stays by your side because you definitely cannot get up there alone with your lacking upper body strength.

His hands linger on your thighs, softening eyes locked on yours. A hint of a smirk plays on his lips before he says, “I remember doing this to you often.”

Yes, leaving you limping around the apartment was his favourite pastimes. He liked to watch you struggle to walk after every intimate moment. In fact, he always felt like he didn’t do his job right if you’re not limping. He’d go ten times rougher the next time around and then cuddle you to his chest, cooing reassurances in your ear. Was it bad that you wanted that all the time? That you wanted to sleep and wake up in the same bed he does everyday?

Slow tears roll down your face as you take his hand art stained in yours. “It was my first date since our break up,” you confess. “Sumni asked for your number… and for permission to go out with you. I just felt a little hurt that you were moving on.”

“She called.”

Your heart has shattered too many times tonight to even react to his words, but you can feel your soul shudder. She called. And did he answer? Did he have a drink with her too? You want to ask but your pride swallows your questions whole. All you can bring yourself to say is, “She’s a nice girl.”

He nods. Squeezing your hand, Taehyung wraps his arm loosely around your waist and stands in front of you. “I told her I wasn’t really ready to see anyone else yet,” he tells you, pressing himself against you.

The gesture is not at all sexual and you do not interpret it as such. Rather, it is tender and comforting. He releases his hold on your hand to wipe your tears, letting his own fall. Licking his lips, he whispers, “What’s his name?”

You shrug.

“Come on,” he half-heartedly nudges your legs. “Tell me.”

Does he think you’re trying to spare his feelings? Meeting his gaze, you can’t help but smile. He looks so cute, so precious in front of you. Playing with his hand, your fingers looping around his, you reply, “I don’t remember. I only spoke to him for half an hour or something.”

He cannot hide his smile, but avoids your gaze. Even still, you can see the relief within them. He seems to be pleased that you’re just as miserable as he is, pining after someone you cannot have any more.

“Is that why you came over?”

You shake your head before you can even think the action through. And the words leave your lips just the same, “I just missed you.”

“I really missed you too,” he croaks, rushing to say the words like he can’t believe them himself. “God, I’ve just wanted you back for so long.”

He’s all but sobbing in front of you. Parting your lips, you’re about to tell him that he doesn’t have you, not yet anyways. The fact is that he still lied, and has continued to lie to manipulate you. This cannot be forgiven so easily. You love and miss him dearly, but surely you cannot just take him back without discussing the cause of your break up first.

But then, Taehyung burrows his face into the crook of your neck and lets himself fall apart. Hugging you close, he cries into your skin. You cannot hold back the sob that tears through your throat just from the mere sound of his choked breaths and wet tears against you.

“I’m so sorry,” he cries as you cradle his head. “I’m sorry.”

The broken tone of his voice is enough to make you whimper into his hair. He sounds so fragile. This break up, you realize, has torn him inside out too. Pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, you try to console both of your fears. But every sob trembles your courage and every drop of his tears makes you recoil in guilt and shame. How could you have done this to him, to your relationship?

He shudders a breath as he pulls away. Red in the face, wet streaks staining his painted cheeks, he cups his hands under your jaw and says, “Look, you can move in right now, okay? Alright? I’ll get your things tomorrow. I’ll give you Jungkook’s key. He only comes here to steal our food anyways.” Just stay, please (Y/N).”

His voice is shaky and tone all but heartbreaking as he chuckles at his own little joke. The desperation is real and hard to deny. You cannot even open your mouth to even voice your reservations about dating again. Clutching onto his jumpsuit, you try to revert your gaze to your lap in hopes to find your courage and tell him that you need to talk first. Only, Taehyung dips his head low to catch your eyes again. He’s determined to have you stay. And your silence only provokes more tears.

“I promise I’ll never tell another lie,” he sobs. “I promise I’ll never let my worries get in between us again. Please, baby, just please stay. Say that you’ll stay.”

You cannot watch this for another moment longer. There’s lots you still have left to discuss, like why he’s so worried about growing tired of you, and why he felt the need to lie in the first place. But his promise to never do it again is enough for now. And you just can’t sit here watching him cry any longer. You pull him towards you, pepper his cheeks with gentle kisses then cradle his head.

“I’m not going anywhere, Tae,” you mutter into his hair. “Mostly because I can’t.”

Your attempt at a joke causes him to choke out a chuckle. He showers the crook of your neck with wet kisses, muttering into your skin, “I love you.”

Rapturing in a relieved frenzy, your nerves dance within your bloodstream and repair your ruptured heart. You let out a deep breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. “I love you too,” you cry.

The last four months haven’t granted you a shred of peace. You’ve lived and re-lived that argument over and over again, praying you can just go back and fix it all there and then. But, maybe… maybe it all needed to fall apart to fall back into place. Maybe it needed to rupture to rapture.

tags: @miinoongi, @jenotation, @allannahmalik, @taeshuworld

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

#bangtanfairygarden #btsguild #networkbangtan #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #winterbearnet #vantenet #btswritersclub #magicshopnet #bangtanhq #btsgoldnet #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #kim taehyung angst #kim taehyung smut #bts smut

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shera-dnd · 4 years

Text

And so finally ends Sidequest: Avernus. Right on time for me to relax and fuck around before season 5 comes out. Hope you guys enjoy the read and that this sidequest was fun for all of you

As usual, normal text means in game scenes and italicized text mean real life scenes

~~~

They put up a good fight, Glimmer thought to herself. They were outmatched and they were all going to die here, but they fought as hard as they could. They got the mighty Archduke Zariel of Avernus to bleed and that was more than most angels and demons could claim to have done.

Glimmer forced herself to stand up again, placing a hand on her chest and letting the healing magic fix up her broken ribs. She watched Adora’s darkness spell dissipate as she was tossed against a nearby building, Catra rushed after her to give her one of Entrapta’s healing potions. Double Trouble was nowhere to be seen, but with any luck they were already at the Companion, trying to free the celestial being inside. If they could just keep Zariel busy for a little longer then Elturel could be saved.

Of course that hopeful thought had to be immediately crushed when Zariel set Catra on fire with a single stare.

”Shit I think that is the last health potion we had” Catra commented casually “How are we on spell slots?” The collective wince from the rest of the party was the only answer she got “Well shit”

“You seem pretty calm for someone about to lose a character” Glimmer commented. She was a lot more upset about this than Catra apparently.

“Eh” Catra said with a shrug “It was bound to happen eventually. We’re still going to win here, so I don’t mind taking the character death, besides I’m sure you’re gonna have emotions for the two of us right now”

“Speaking of which” The GM said, getting their attention again “It’s your turn, Glimmer”

Glimmer madly dashed towards Zariel in blind fury. Swinging her silvered flail several times at the devil, each swing burning with her unholy wrath. Still the former angel seemed to be simply amused by it.

“That rage. That drive” Zariel mused “I could use a soul like yours leading my armies”

“All this time in hell must have stolen your sanity if you think I would ever join you” Glimmer snarled

“Even if it means saving your beloved’s soul?” Zariel offered “Join my forces and I’ll bring her back. I’ll even give you Elturel back as a gift”

The only answer she got was a well aimed spit from Glimmer

Zariel wiped her face and cracked Glimmer’s ribs again with a blow of her hammer

“Pathetic”

“You're the pathetic one here!” Glimmer growled as she forced herself to stand again “You sold your soul to the devil and look where it got you! I’ll not make that same mistake!”

“I did what had to be done” Zariel barked back “My cause demands sacrifice!”

Glimmer laughed

“Sacrifice? You hurt countless innocents for your stupid cause and you act like this is some big sacrifice on your part” She dragged herself forward as she spoke, still trying to fight “You’re a monster, Zariel. No matter how good your cause”

“Enough!” Her roar made even the crashing armies quiet down “I will not have my methods questioned by a pathetic mortal”

“Face it. You’ve failed as an angel and you’ve failed as a devil. All you got from that stupid deal is that now you get to blame your evil on someone else” Glimmer did not relent. She couldn’t even lift her arms, but she would keep at it even if she had to kill Zariel by berating her “So much for the big heroic sacrifice”

“What would you have done in my place?” Zariel asked, her tone accusatory “What would you have done that makes you think you can judge me, child?”

“I would’ve kept trying” She answered, echoing Catra’s words “I would try every day. No matter how hard it got, no matter how much I failed. I would keep doing my best, because that is all I can do. I wouldn’t give it all away just for a blind shot at winning. I wouldn’t do it then and I’m not doing it now”

“Wow! Glimmer, where did that come from?” Adora asked, awed by her friend’s roleplay

“What? You and Catra aren’t the only ones allowed to have emotional moments” Glimmer joked. She turned to look at Catra to tease her for earlier, but she looked like she was holding back tears “Hey, you okay there Catra?”

“I-I’m fine. Just wasn’t expecting all this”

“Well, I think I’ll be granting Glimmer Inspiration for this” the GM commented

“May I use that inspiration to gain advantage in convincing Zariel to stop being a bitch?” Glimmer asked

“You may”

“Nice!” She cheered, before rolling some dice “That is a modified 19 and a modified 27″

“Alright. Let’s roleplay how that goes”

“You can try again and keep trying” Glimmer offered, her rage having mostly burned out in her outburst. Now she felt nothing but pity for the devil “It won’t be an easy fight and it will hurt, but it’s worth it”

This seemed to make Zariel hesitate. She wasn’t sure of what to do, so Glimmer took that pause in her aggression as a positive sign and offered her a hand.

Zariel’s sword was nowhere to be seen - Reya was probably using it to strike down the chains as they spoke - so the devil had no celestial spark to connect to to regain her powers, but Glimmer was an Aasimar. The light inside her may have been tainted, but it was still there and Glimmer would gladly give that away.

When Zariel took Glimmer’s hand her form changed. No longer that of the devil, but still not the one she had assumed before. She was undoubtedly an angel again, but she was still marked and scarred. An eternal reminder of the mistakes she had made.

Smiling softly at Glimmer, Zariel opened her wings. A wave of light washed over her friends, closing their wounds and restoring them to conscience. Glimmer wasted no time before dashing to a slowly waking Catra.

“Hey, Sparkles” Catra greeted, weakly “Did we win?”

“Not quite” Zariel answered for her. Apparently her angelic powers did not include being able to read the mood “We must still return Elturel to the material world”

“About that” Glimmer began, but was interrupted by the city violently shaking as the chains began to fall apart. Zariel took to the skies to try to keep the city from falling into the Styx, but before she could do anything a flash of gold engulfed them all and they were once more in the surface.

“Y-you freed the Companion” Zariel blurted in surprise “You freed him and broke the chains. You were just distracting me while your friends did all that” Glimmer braced for impact as she expected Zariel to turn on them once again “Clever”

Catra and Glimmer sighed in relief, pulling each other into a tight hug

“Now we won”

#sidequest #avernus #catra #adora #glimmer #double trouble #entrapta #DnD!au

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prettywordsyouleft · 5 years

Text

Mistaken

Prompt: #177 for @mark-tuan-and-namjoon-lover – “You can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen, cause guess what? It did!”

mark-tuan-and-namjoon-lover said:

Can I request a drabble? #177 with either Mark Tuan or Himchan.

Pairing: Mark Tuan x reader

Genre: co-workers to lovers / office au / romance

Warnings: none

Word count: 2305

As you turned the corner of the department, you stopped moving altogether, your throat drying up faster than any desert. Your eyes now glued to the man walking towards you as your heart started to thump loudly within your chest. Just as he came closer, you finally managed to break free from the stupor keeping you stuck to the spot, flinging yourself around and marching in the opposite direction.

“Y/N!” he called out fruitlessly before you disappeared out of sight into the ladies restroom and the closet cubicle, breathing heavily.

And you remained there until you were certain you wouldn’t bump into Mark on the way out.

This had been your habit ever since the work function two weeks ago. Anytime you crossed paths with your fellow colleague, you would promptly turn away before he could reach you and dash into the nearest unattended room. You had inhabited storage closets, bathrooms and meeting rooms, even hiding behind a sofa in the foyer much to the amusement of your friend Jackson.

“You can’t hide from him forever.”

“Oh yes I can,” you corrected confidently, smoothing out your pencil skirt now that you weren’t crouching precariously behind something. You took back the folders you had thrown at Jackson and pressed them to your chest, hoping the weight there would ease the erratic beating of your heart. “Until I find a new job, I’ll avoid Mark Tuan like the plague.”

Jackson laughed heartily before nudging you. “It’s not like you’ve done anything wrong, Y/N. So, you kissed him, how scandalous!”

You weren’t prepared to tell Jackson that after said kiss, Mark had found you going out for fresh air and pressed you up against the elevator wall chasing that first kiss with many more. Nor would you admit that you had become intimate with the insides of his mouth as much as you had his bed and home. And when you woke the following morning in the unfamiliar place with your clothes strewn across the floor, the first thing you saw across the wall was a family portrait.

One in which the CEO of the company you worked for happened to be his grandfather.

You smiled weakly. “I like to keep my personal and professional lives separate. I can’t really do that now.”

“So ignore him. March by Mark as if nothing happened.”

“I can’t do that either,” you told him with a roll of your eyes, hoping the action would hide your real reason.

You were scared to walk past Mark in case he did that to you.

Although you were talking up a big game to Jackson, inwardly, you were struggling. You hadn’t been drunk that night, both of you were completely lucid when passion overrode any reservations you held. You had felt everything, tasted more than your mind could handle, and Mark had held you to him for the rest of the night as if you were precious.

You had believed something amazing had started between you both.

The weekend went by waiting by your phone for him to message you. Yet nothing came through. And when you had finally caved and sent him one yourself, the response you received deflated your hopes that you had meant anything to Mark.

Yeah, I had fun too.

You didn’t want to be fun. You wanted to be someone Mark wanted to see more of. To go out on dates with him and find out what made him tick. He was quiet by nature in the office, and you wondered now if that was due to the secret he harboured. Which you were now equally protecting. All the same, you knew of his work ethics well. Mark was diligent to his tasks, and a reliable team player.

You guessed out of work, he wasn’t as loyal as you had believed him to be. It was just a one night stand, and you had to accept that was all it was. That was what you told yourself every morning as you prepared for another day in the office, and that was precisely what went out the window whenever you saw him. You remembered the way he had caressed you, the pressure of his lips on yours. It followed you around like a movie scene on loop in your mind, reminding you of why you could never chalk Mark down to being a simple one night stand. You liked him too much and it pained you immensely knowing the feeling wasn’t reciprocated from him.

“I’m just saying that the stress isn’t worth it for one simple kiss,” Jackson concluded and you nodded, sighing heavily when you sat down at your desk.

If only it had ended there.

Another week passed with a couple of close calls but you had remained successful in avoiding Mark. Your stress levels however only increased with every close encounter and you were exhausted.

It was due to being tired of the extra effort you were putting in that you made the biggest mistake. “Hey Jackson, is this the agreement you were looking for?”

You frowned when the man didn’t answer you, wondering if you had walked into the wrong meeting room. Jackson was preparing for a presentation later in the day and you knew he needed this contract for the potential client to go over with him. It was also unlike him not to respond right away.

Looking away from what you held, you froze, your grip soon letting go and the papers floated to the ground. Mark got up from the seat he was in, bending down to pick up what had scattered at your feet.

It was a shame he couldn’t collect your sanity whilst he was down there for you.

Instead of handing them back to you, Mark placed the papers down onto the table and shifted towards the door, shutting it behind you. All whilst you still stood there, unmoving.

“Y/N,” he said and it was enough to restart up the process of your brain, your functioning returning. You grabbed for the papers and spun on your heel to depart immediately. Mark stood in front of the door, his arms folded across his chest. “You’re a hard woman to track down these days.”

“Busy too, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Y/N,” he repeated your name as if he had the right to let it roll off his tongue as smoothly as it did. It irked you, your cheeks reddening with the rise of emotions in your chest. You hated that he was dragging this out unnecessarily. You needed to escape and would happily summon a hole in the ground if you could to get away faster. “We need to talk.”

“I’m late for a meeting.”

“You can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen, cause guess what? It did!”

You snapped your focus up to his hard expression, a dry laugh falling from your mouth. “What happened exactly? You scored a big one? Is that what it was for you?”

“What?” Mark’s face creased up with confusion and he shook his head. “Where would you-”

“I’m glad it was fun for you but I’m embarrassed that it happened. I’m not the type of woman to just sleep with anyone and then move on, Mark. I was stupid and assumed there was more to it and-”

“There is more to it, Y/N,” he cut in and you groaned at his interruption, placing your hands on your hips impatiently.

“Yes, I know of your secret. I’m sure you want me to keep it to myself and I will, I have that much dignity, not that you deserve it,” you continued, nodding several times as if that would convince him as much as you hoped it would yourself. Because right now, you felt awful.

“Can you let me actually talk?” Mark requested with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It was your turn to frown, how could he think to smile right now? “I think you have the wrong idea.”

“No, I’m aware of what it meant to you.”

“Really?”

You nodded again. “Of course. I made a mistake, assuming that going that far would mean… would-”

“Would mean I wanted to date you?” he finished for you and you gave him a tight-lipped smile. Mark laughed and you shot him an incredulous look. Stepping toward you, Mark reached out for your upper arms. “That’s what it meant to me.”

“No, it was just a one night stand for you.”

Mark shook his head exasperatedly. “What makes you believe that?”

“I waited for you to message me all day,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing with colour. “I hoped for something from you to cement that the feelings we had given into meant something important to you. And when you didn’t message me, I caved and sent you one.”

“I replied,” he defended and you rolled your eyes.

“You told me you had fun.”

“I did, it wasn’t a lie.” Mark let go of you and rubbed the back of his neck. “I always have a lot of fun when I’m around you. I thought you knew that.”

You blinked slowly, unsure of how to take his admission.

Mark continued. “Y/N, I didn’t message you because I didn’t want to seem too eager. My buddy James told me that if I messaged right away I might put you off. Since we went all the way that night, uh, multiple times too.”

You watched as colour invaded his cheeks and turned his ears pink entirely. Was Mark really that shy about it now? You blinked slowly again, trying to understand the situation. You had been certain because he had answered so simply that he hadn’t been that interested.

“You want to date me?”

“I wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t. I’m not the type of guy to just sleep with anyone, as you insinuated.”

“Oh.”

You didn’t know what else to say, mortified that you had misconstrued this entire situation. And now you were certain the opportunity you had previously had was well and truly expired. You had blown it.

“I’m not someone who says a lot of emotions at once, admittedly. I wanted to. I actually wrote you a much longer reply. But I worried it would be too overwhelming and so I went with what my friend told me to say. Wow, I sound pathetic.”

“What did you want to tell me?” you wondered softly, looking up at him. You might as well know it all. Your heart ached and it wouldn’t stop just because you gained further knowledge.

Mark smiled warmly. “That I was glad you trusted me enough to come home with me. That it was the best night of my life. That I had to refrain from confessing my feelings to you after when we were laying there. Or that I watched you after you fell asleep and wondered how I had gotten so lucky. I was very happy you liked me back, and I couldn’t wait to take you on a date. Actually, if there was one thing I would change it was that. I was a bit rash just coming in for the passionate approach. I had hoped to take you out for dinner and a movie first. I guess when I saw you in that dress, I kind of lost my mind.”

“Stop,” you whispered, holding up your hand as the first tear spilled from your eyes. You had made a poor choice, this did hurt further. You clutched at your heart as it grew harder to breathe. Mark crouched down a little to capture your blurred gaze, his thumbs gently wiping away your stream of emotions.

“Why are you crying?”

“Because that was so beautiful and now I’ve messed everything up and I can’t have any of that.”

“Why can’t you?”

“I’ve been purposely avoiding you!”

Mark nodded with a sigh. “It kind of hurt. I thought you didn’t like me.”

“I like you too much.”

“So what’s stopping us then?” Mark wondered and you looked up at him, eyes wide. He smiled warmly. “My feelings are still the same, Y/N.”

“You want to date me?”

“Yes.”

“Even though I avoided you?”

“Well, now I know why.”

You frowned. “Are you sure?”

“It’s my fault that I messaged you poorly and led you astray,” he continued and then pursed his lips together. “Wait, why does it feel like you don’t believe me?”

“Well, it’s just that I thought so low of you and you must be mad with me over that.”

“I guess I should be,” he agreed and you hung your head. “There’s only one way to make it up to me though.”

“What’s that?” you asked and Mark pointed to his lips, trying not to smirk. You grinned and reached up to peck him, pulling back with a warm smile.

“That’s not how you kissed me back then, Y/N.”

“We’re at work!” you told him, darting your eyes around the otherwise empty meeting room. “I can’t just kiss you here.”

“Why not, you pointed out my family owns this company,” he mentioned with a pout and you gaped at him.

“Mark! You can’t abuse your power!”

“When it comes to you, I can do anything,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms. Smiling down at you, he leaned in closer. “As soon as we’re off the clock, I’m taking you on a date.”

“I’d like that.”

“And I promise I’ll message you what I truly feel from here out.”

“I’ll make sure not to read it and run off with the wrong idea too,” you vowed and Mark nodded, closing the remaining gap between you both.

All of this had started with that kiss. And with his lips back against yours, you didn’t want to ever go too long without kissing Mark again.

_________________

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zarcake-writes · 7 years

Text

The Commander’s Babysitter

Part 11! Wow we’re almost done with this everyone, the end is coming. Thank you everyone for the likes and reblogs :)

Warnings: mention of panic attacks and emotional trauma

When you woke up, you were cold and sore. Your face was tender, your eyebrow felt stiff and your cheek and eye were swollen. Where were you? You could hear the beeps of something and faint patter of a footsteps, there was also a ticking from a nearby clock. You opened your eyes and you realized you were in a hospital, in front of you was a large white board with names and notes. You saw the tv, which was off, and you saw a clock. Was it 4:15 in the morning or the evening? That saying about a broken clock being right twice a day came to your mind, or was it once a day? You couldn’t remember.

You glanced to your left and saw Gabe was asleep in a chair. He was leaning back with his arms crossed, you couldn’t help but smile at him. Your smile fell when you thought of the kids, where were they? They must be safe else Gabe would be looking for them.

You reached for your husband, but he was too far from the bed. You tried stretching to him but a jolt of pain in your side stopped you. You let out a gasp and returned to your original position, Gabe woke up when you made the noise.

“Mi reina, are you in pain? Are you alright? Should I call a nurse?” he asked leaning his elbows onto the bed, he took your hand and kissed it softly.

“I’ve been better, don’t call any nurses please. Where are the kids?”

“With Ana and Jack.”

“Are they hurt? How’s Jesse’s face? Was Sombra hurt?”

“Jesse has a busted lip and Sombra is fine physically. They’re both terrified of being away from us, but I told them I needed to come check on you and they need rest. Ana and Jack swore to keep them safe, even Fareeha was holding them.”

“My poor babies.” You said closing your eyes, you let out a ragged breath as the tears began to fall again. You covered your face and sobbed, you realized that was a mistake and you did your best to stop. Gabe did his best to comfort you, he tried to hold you, course he couldn’t hold you tightly, but he was close enough to you. He smelled so good. That same heavy cologne and his hair product. He smelled safe and like home, “Where am I?”

“The Overwatch base, the medical wing to be exact. Jack called it in since you were hurt bad, Angela and her best nurses arrived. Jack is handling the investigation; the local cops were shocked to find Strike-Commander Morrison at the scene. They listened to him shout orders, I think they were intimidated by him.”

“How bad am I hurt?” you asked.

“You have a few fractured ribs, you left eyebrow needed stitches, your left eye and cheek bone are bruised pretty bad. You also have bruising around your neck.” He said softly.

“What happened to John?”

“He’s dead.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.” Gabe said, you only nodded your head and looked away. Gabe never told you how he beat the living shit out of the man. He never told you that Overwatch made it look like he was killed by Gabe in blind rage. But, he was rotting in a cell on that very base. Your husband would never tell you that he would beat the man to a bloody pulp, had Angela heal him and then repeat the process. Once a month for the next three years he would visit John McCree and proceed to put his Blackwatch interrogation skills to use, whether it was beatings or torture. John McCree was defiant to the end. He truly died four years later. Gabe shot him with his own gun and his body was destroyed. Only Jack and Angela knew what Gabe was doing, both would never tell you or the kids.

“I’m glad you got there when you did.” You said softly.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Jesse answered the door before I could stop him. He was so scared Gabe, I managed to push myself against the door to keep John out, Jesse ran and took Sombra to your office. I made a dash to the kitchen and threw oil at him when I got off the door, I knew I couldn’t close the door, I wasn’t strong enough. After, I went to the office with them, I got the kids out of the window. I was almost out when he shot the door open, he pulled me back in. He slammed my face in the floor and then he tried… he tried to rape me in front of Jesse.” You said looking away from your husband, Gabe’s jaw clenched tighter and he squeezed your hand.

“Did he?”

“No, he got close though. He almost had my pants off my hips but Jesse raised the gun at him and threatened to kill him. I used your paperweight and hit him in the head after he hit Jesse. He was calling our boy a pussy and telling him he should remember what happens to whores. I went to hit him a second time, but he caught it. He hit me and I fell back, then he started choking me. Jesse should have kept on running, he shouldn’t have seen any of that Gabe.” You said shaking your head tears ran down your face, “I’m so sorry my love. I should have fought him off, I should have been stronger. I’m so sorry the kids had to see this, I’m so sorry for what Jesse almost saw.” You sobbed harder, your chest was hurting and it was getting hard to breathe.

“Shh mi reina. This is my fault, I shouldn’t have left you three at home alone, I should have taken us out of the country. I’m so sorry my love, I’m so sorry this happened to you and the kids.” Gabe said pulling your hands to his face. You saw tears run down his face, the last time you saw him cry was on your wedding night. You wiped away his tears and did your best to calm yourself down.

“Please don’t cry. You’re gonna make me cry more.” You whimpered, he only nodded his head and held your hand tightly. You managed to calm your breathing down, your ribs hurt and it hurt to cry. That’s all you wanted to do though, “I bet I look horrible, don’t I?” you asked softly.

“You’re still beautiful.”

“I feel like I got hit by a truck. I’m so glad you got there when you did. I would have died. I couldn’t even fight someone off, you must think I’m pretty pathetic.”

“Why would I think that?” Gabe asked, his face was pulled down in a frown and you noticed how red his eyes were.

“Because you can fight anyone, and I… I almost got raped and I almost died.”

“(Y/N). Listen to me, I don’t think any less of you. I’m a trained fighter mi reina. You’re a teacher. But you did fight him off, you saved our kids. You used your brain to fight against him, you threw boiling oil at him and did all you could to protect yourself and our kids. You kept our kid’s safe and gave me enough time to get home.”

“I almost didn’t Gabe. I almost fucking didn’t.” You said leaning back against your pillow. God did everything hurt.

“But you did. We’ll take our time with this, we’ll go through this together. We’ll move past this babe. Now, go to sleep love. I’ll be here when you wake up.” he said, you closed your eyes and you fell asleep.

Gabe held your hand tightly, he cursed himself for being so fucking stupid. He should have protected you and been there for you. He’s so stupid. Seeing your bruised and bloodied face, seeing that fucker on you choking you, seeing Jesse’s busted lip and panicked face, and seeing Sombra holding onto Jesse. Hearing his children screaming for you would haunt Gabe for the rest of his life. He hung his head and let the tears fall. He failed you three. He would make sure John McCree suffered, for as long as his family does.

The next day, Gabe brought the kids to see you. Jesse’s lip was swollen and his eyes were red, his shoulder length hair was messy and all tied back. Sombra’s eyes were also red, but she was fine physically. You sat them on your hospital bed and kissed them both, Sombra cried and lied down on you lap while Jesse held your hand. Later that day, the police showed up and took your statement along with the kids, you hated that they were questioned so much. Then Jack took your statements, as Strike Commander, he had to do an investigation since this involved an Overwatch member and his family. The investigations were quick and simple, Gabe wasn’t charged with anything.

Angela Ziegler made sure you were doing good physically. She was kind and checked your wounds and held you when you saw your face in the bathroom mirror. The left side of your face was bruised and battered, the hand shaped bruise marks on your neck made you sick. When you pulled up your hospital gown you saw bruises from your attacker’s boots and the bruises on your hip bones from Gabe’s desk. You let out a sob and cried, Angela held you and listened to you. She was worried about you and your family’s mental states though.

“Mrs. Reyes, if you need me for anything call. I’ll help you anyway I can.” She said with a smile, she was so kind.

“Thank you, Doctor Ziegler.” You said nodding your head as you dressed yourself. Gabe was waiting for you outside the room with the kids.

“Oh, please call me Angela.” She laughed softly.

“Then you can call me (Y/N).” you said with a smile.

After you were cleared one hundred percent, you and the kids told Gabe you three were too nervous to set foot in the country house or your home in the suburbs, in fact you refused. Your home, your safe space, had been tainted and ruined. Gabe agreed and sold both homes, it took a while to sell the country house because of the murder but the house in the suburbs was sold quickly. Gabe then moved you and the kids far away, you all were glad to leave that house behind. You hoped you could leave the memories behind too.

The new house was far from your old one. It was a large like the last one, it had two extra bedrooms for guests, the front yard was large with a picket fence. It was in a gated community close to an Overwatch base. It was a whole new city, a whole new neighborhood, a whole new place for you and your family. Gabe had the highest security system installed and Jack, Ana, and Fareeha would stay with you and your family several days a week.

Some nights, when you couldn’t sleep, you would find Jack downstairs sometimes watching tv, he would let you sit with him until Gabe would tell you the house was safe. They both would urge you to sleep. If Ana was there, she would always know when you were up, she would come into the kitchen where you and Gabe were standing holding each other. She would only smile softly and make you both tea. Jack and Ana didn’t judge you and Gabe. They were there and listened. You and Gabe were so thankful for both.

Fareeha was there for your kids, she would keep an eye on Jesse and Sombra and help them if they started having any panic attacks. She did her best to let them act like kids again, she would sit with Sombra and play video games with her or she would rough house with Jesse. He refused to play with any of his NERF guns for a long time.

You all were fine physically, except for a scar on your eyebrow. Jesse had a scar on the inside of his lip, you would see him playing with the scar tissue when he was thinking. It was like how you would run your fingers over the scar on your eyebrow. The physical scars weren’t bad, it was the mental ones that plagued you and the kids, and even Gabe. When someone knocked on the door, Jesse and Sombra would jump and get ready to hide or run. You sometimes couldn’t answer the door, there several times that Jack or Ana had to answer the door while it was Gabe who helped calm you down.

For a long time after the event, Jesse and Sombra couldn’t sleep alone. At first, they would sleep with each other, you would find Jesse and Sombra sleeping beneath their beds or in their closets. This broke your heart even more. But, they got to the point that they couldn’t be alone. They would wake you and Gabe up and ask for to sleep with you both. Gabe and you didn’t mind having the kids sleep with you, the bed was large enough and it helped you and he know the kids were safe. It helped them feel safe and it calmed both of your fears. You and Gabe would sleep with them between your bodies, as if you were protecting them from harm.

Another obstacle was you couldn’t stand having Gabe touch you sexually. You would tell him no and sleep far away from him, you know it hurt him but feeling his hands on you hurt you. You felt horrible, you couldn’t get the image of you pushed against the desk out of your mind. When you broke down Gabe was there, he held your hand and gave you space. The next day you called Doctor Ziegler and explained to her what was happening. She told you of a therapist who could help not only you with that problem, but also help the kids.

The therapist helped the kids, it was a slow but eventual progress. You were happy when you saw they were slowly beginning to go back to their usual selves. The therapist helped you and Gabe, Gabe listened to your fears and he understood why you couldn’t be touched. He took it slow and did other things to show his love. You admitted you were afraid he would leave you, but he held you tightly and said, “I love you. No matter how long it takes you to heal, I will be here. It could take one month, one year, or a whole decade. I will be here to help you. I love you.”

You cried and hugged him tightly, he only held you close to his chest and hummed a soft song.

Gabe didn’t leave you and the kids alone for almost a year, Jack understood and let Gabe go one leave. Your husband helped you when you needed it. He took you and the kids to counseling, he even saw someone for the guilt that plagued him. He would never get your faces out of his mind. He helped you and the kids through panic attacks and helped you find a new job when you were ready.

When Gabe was called in for a required meeting he was pissed, it was just after a year since the incident but Gabe wanted to stay home with his family. He screamed and cursed into the phone, even Jack couldn’t get him out of that meeting, and did Jack try. Before Gabe left for his first meeting in a year, he showed up at home with a puppy. It was a small black German Shepherd puppy, Gabe sat him down in the living room with a smile. Jesse and Sombra smiled widely for what felt like the first time in a long time.

“Who’s this?” you asked with a smile. The kids were fawning over the puppy, who seemed happy to be getting attention.

“I know I have to go to that meeting next week, so I thought I would buy us a dog. I know he’s a puppy right now, but when he gets older he’ll be there for us.” He said.

“Where did you get him from?” you asked squatting down, the puppy happily ran up to you. His ears were too large for his body and he seemed unsteady on his feet.

“He’s a failed military dog. Too nice they said.”

“Well he might have failed that, but he didn’t fail being a cutie.” You said picking him up. He licked your face, you handed him to Jesse and Sombra, they were so excited.

“What’s his name dad?” Sombra asked petting the puppy.

“I was thinking Reaper.”

“Edgy dad.” Jesse snorted.

“You would.” You laughed. Gabe only smiled and hugged you, maybe a dog would help your family heal, you know pets are helpful for people who are healing.

When Gabe did leave a week later, you were scared and worried, you almost had a panic attack. He kissed you and the kids and promised to be home as soon as he could be. Right as he was leaving, Jack showed up with a smile and pizza, you calmed down. Jack promised to keep you and the kids safe while Gabe was gone. It was nice having Jack over, he took being an uncle very serious. But you think he just wanted to play with the new puppy. He scoffed at the name Gabe gave him.

Those several nights that Gabe was gone, you, the kids, and Reaper slept in the master bedroom together, you locked the bedroom and somehow you and the kids slept soundly for what felt like the first time in forever. It might have been because Jack was downstairs with his pulse rifle, or because Reaper was cuddled between your kids.

#reaper x reader #gabriel reyes x reader #dad gabriel reyes #gabriel reyes #jack morrison #angela ziegler #ana amari #fareeha amari #pharah #jesse mccree #sombra #reader insert #self insert #my writing #the commander's babysitter

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artclusters · 7 years

Text

A short fantasy story I wrote in 2017, that won first place in my college.

I was confined to a 2500 word limit, so I feel it can come across as having a rushed pacing, nonetheless, I still enjoy it.

Mental illness themes, LGBT characters

Heading out

Once upon a time in a kingdom, the peace was kept by the efforts of a noble hero. He fought off every monster, every creature and every danger that dared attack with his mighty sword and spirit. Not only was his fighting skill impeccable, but his looks as well: long sleek brown hair, a perfect beard, a strong fat physique, dark skin, and a dashing smile. He was loved and known by all throughout the kingdom and beyond. That was, however, quite some years ago, for our hero vanished one day without a trace. What could have happened to our hero?

The birds are chirping, the sun is shining, the centaurs are galloping around, the fairies are working, the pixies are chatting…it sure is a good morning for our hero to…

"…Stay in bed!" Azmi sighed and stared blankly at his cottage ceiling. He has retreated to an abandoned cottage in a beautiful, lively forest far from the kingdom since his mental health worsened. He can't even appreciate the scenery because he feels so empty. He thought back on his glory days. A happy, energetic, productive hero? Mingled with people? Didn’t have trouble getting out of bed? It all seems so absurd. He is but a mere husk of what he used to be. His rusty sword settled to rot in the spider-webbed corner. The puke-yellow walls, leaking roof and creaking door were breaking and decaying into pieces, repairs long overdue. His dusty armor and dirty clothes lay scattered on the floor. Crumpled maps and quest requests were strewn all around, longing to be picked up. The pantry was an indescribable mess.

Should he have asked for help? But how could he…he was a hero. Heroes don’t ask for help, they give it. He was someone people look up to. How can he show weakness?

I'll be fine….I'll be fine…it will pass…I'll be fine…I'm not fine.

A green pixie flew in from his broken window interrupting his daily self-hating ritual. They were slightly staggering from the weight of a flyer they carried in their little hands. "Hello Azmi! I have a new quest for you!" they yelled.

Azmi, irritated (and baffled) from their usual high energy let out a reply, "Hey Char… you can…uhhh," he looked around to find if he designated a spot for quest flyers but couldn’t find any. "Just put it on the floor…I’ll get to it"

"That’s what you always say! You're going to put this one off too? You're so lazy!"

"I'm not lazy, I'm depressed." He said firmly.

"You have to go on a quest again! Redeem your honor! Everyone in the kingdom says bad stuff about you…like you're a coward or you're ungrateful or you’ve abandoned your people…"

He already had his mind convincing him he's a bad person; he doesn’t need actual people badmouthing him. "They don’t know what I'm going through."

"There's a wizard who makes potions that can cure anything! You can cure your lazine- err…state?"

Azmi was skeptical. Why bother. It's not like he hasn’t tried to ''get better'' before. Maybe this depression will last forever. Maybe this is just who he IS now. He gave them a defeated, uninterested look.

"Come on! I think this one's really exciting! It's dangerous too! You love danger! Nobody made it out alive from there!"

His face immediately lit up. "I'm going."

"Wow, really?"

"Yes, I love high danger because I'm very likely to hurt myself lightly or severely or die and I absolutely deserve it!!" he said impulsively. Wow, I need to be kinder to myself.

Char gave him a concerned look. "Okay, here's the map with the guide."

"Can you please read what's written, I hate reading words you know…the letters keep jumping around and I get a headache."

"Okay. So, there are three areas you need to go through. The first area is nearby, the forest of banshees. They say there are so many banshees wailing there that heroes went mad! After the forest, you'll arrive at a graveyard plagued with hordes of ghouls and the undead. No hero has ever succeeded in fighting them off alone. If you do get through the hordes of the undead, you'll reach the tunnel of eyes. It's where the basilisks and medusa's snakes lurk. If you meet anything's gaze there, you'll either die or turn to stone AND after that you'll meet the wizard and get your healing potion!"

"I'd prefer if the potion was just…in a chest or something. I'd really hate to have to… talk to someone."

"So, are you going to go? I want to see you be a hero again!" they cheered.

"Yes…as soon as I get out of bed!"

Azmi rolled himself off the bed and propped himself upright. He ruffled his short-bedraggled hair and dragged himself to the waterfall and took a shower for the first time in a month. I've lost weight. He cut his itchy beard carelessly with a dagger, hurting himself. Ah, what's another scar? I can't tell whether they're from fighting monsters or if they're self-inflicted. He drank his bi-weekly testosterone potion (delivered by his elf doctor), put on his enchanted pain-free chest binder, his light dull armor, his dirty boots and his tattered gauntlets. He couldn't find his helmet and didn’t bother looking. Maybe you'll bash your skull today. He sheathed his blunt sword and headed out for the first time in...ah, he lost count.

"Look whose finally out of his cottage" the fairies in the emerald grass teased.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, thank you. Unfortunately, I'm still alive and I'm heading out-"

"Without breakfast?" piped a voice from the water. A mermaid popped out with a box and she reached her arms out. "Its sea serpent. Take it. You have to eat."

Why do they even bother taking care of you? "Wow, haven’t killed a serpent in ages, thanks Mina. I forgot eating was a thing I have to do." he took the box. "Lured anybody to their death today?" he joked.

"I'm a mermaid, not a siren, Azmi. There's a difference."

"Right…I'm forgetting my lore." Stupid Stupid Stupid. Was that a pathetic attempt at a joke? Stupid.

"Anyway, enjoy your food! It's my wife's favorite! I can't wait to share this with her! Bye! Good luck!" she said and dived down.

Azmi eyed the map and looked towards the forest, north of his cottage. I don’t have the energy for this. "Okay….I'm doing this..." he halfheartedly raised his arm in the air "to the forest of banshees…."

The darkness grew stronger as Azmi ventured deeper into the forest. Anguished sobs echoed. Frail shadowy fingers loomed everywhere. They were grey and had a mouth for a face. They drifted around every branch, behind every tree and bobbed upwards, blocking the sky. The sobs grew stronger, turning into howls into wails into screams into grating shrieks. Azmi reached for his sword but hesitated. He…wasn’t bothered by the noise. It just seemed so…normal. Like he's been through this before. Every day, in fact. My mind is worse than this. My racing thoughts. My suicidal thoughts. My anxious thoughts. My self-blaming thoughts. He could go on and on. My mind is always wailing. He looked with pity at the banshees. "You're going to have to try harder than this…this is nothing compared to the noise I hear every day." Of course, the banshees didn’t comprehend what he said, their empty grey mouth gaping. Azmi muttered to himself as he advanced without a care to the swarm of banshees. His mind was occupied with something else. "…that was embarrassing…what am I, a poet? Ugh I'm going to think about this for the next week….my mind is always wailing...embarrassing…"

The trees gradually disappeared as Azmi approached the cemetery. The transition between the two areas was slow, dull and undistinguishable. It's as if they just blended together. Much like Azmi's tiresome, monotonous days. He wondered why he felt so tired even though he didn’t fight anything. Of course, he knew the answer; it's just the depression sucking the life out of him.

The wailing subsided, but could still be faintly heard, like a nagging anxious thought. The ugly groans of the undead took over. Azmi drew his sword. Suicidal thoughts stirred in his head. Yes, I'd love to, but being eaten is painful. I'd rather not go through that. He moved forward slowly in circles, waiting for hordes of the ghouls and the undead to approach him. He vaguely remembered the time where he heroically fought off hordes of goblins at the kingdom borders. Who was I before being depressed? It was a familiar question to him without an answer. He kept shuffling forwards, feeling confused. At least ONE undead had to have noticed him by now! Why are they not attacking? Come here and eat me! Kill me! Do it! Azmi, his anger fizzling out, relaxed his stance and looked around. Fog consumed the graveyard. Countless undead staggered around aimlessly with empty hollow eyes, staring at nothing. Some had their arms sloppily stretched ahead, grabbing at thin air. Some stumbled and fell, not even bothering to get up but continued to groan as they weakly hauled themselves forward, to nowhere in particular. They stared at him blankly and carelessly bumped into him as they continued moaning and dragging themselves to pointless destinations. Azmi put away his sword. He didn’t know why but he felt like crying but that emotion quickly slipped away, and he felt empty again. I guess we're not very different…. We're both pretty much dead, huh? Suddenly, he felt very stupid as to why he was out there in the first place. He should’ve stayed in bed. Stupid stupid stupid….stop it stop it stop it stop it shhhhhhh…..we're going to the tunnel, to the tunnel, to the tunnel…he kept repeating that phrase like a protective chant to distract his negative thoughts. He wandered through the vast graveyard unharmed. His presence didn’t matter to the undead; he was one of their own.

Azmi reached a large gravestone marked with a bloody eye symbol, with a stairway leading deep below. This must be the tunnel of eyes. Wow, aren’t you a genius. No you're not. You're so dumb. As Azmi plunged down it was as if he was entering his own grave. Menacing hisses resounded repeatedly through the tunnel. The darkness was illuminated by the glow of countless eyes, snakes crawling on the ground and basilisks hanging to the ceiling. If he met just one of those eyes….it's over. He can't close his eyes either; it won't be good if he bumps into a basilisk or trip on a snake. Or would it? That will hurt wouldn’t it? Azmi couldn’t help but chuckle as they tried to capture his gaze. "All the Basilisks and Medusas in the land cant harm me for I am….a master at avoiding eye contact due to my severely low self-esteem and anxiety!" he waved the sword randomly slashing away snakes. "I can literally never meet your gaze! Try as you might!" Pathetic. His eyes darted left and right, up and down, avoiding all the countless luminous eyes surrounding him. He felt intensely angry as he felt more and more unfriendly gazes, reminding him of being in public. The kingdom marketplace was the worst. A nightmare. He hasn’t been there in a long time. They got nothing to do with me, they're not talking about me; but his brain would always convince him otherwise. They're watching, the whole worlds watching and laughing at you and judging you…and as he stood there shaking and breathing heavily, more people surrounded him, looking down on him with concerned looks. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t look!!! His heart raced as he struggled to forget about the memory. "I'll never meet your eyes!!" he yelled to distract himself.

In the distance, Azmi could see a light- the stairs leading upwards. Freedom! No more eyes! Azmi hopped up the steps, tripping on the last step and landing face first on hard rubble ground. He didn’t even bother to protect his face. He didn’t feel like getting up. He wanted to lay there for a bit. Hours. Days. Years maybe. You didn’t even do anything. Heroes died on this quest and you did it so easy. You don’t deserve this. You didn’t suffer enough.

"Hey, you okay?" asked a concerned voice.

Azmi bolted upright and drew his sword. Strange, he didn’t even feel a presence. It seemed like he arrived in a small village. Deep breaths. A dark-skinned wizard with a huge floating wagon stood in front of him. He wore a glimmering blue strap dress with silver stars on it. His hat was enormous, same pattern as the dress. His long silver hair suffocated underneath, popping out the sides and down his shoulders. He had blue lips and blue eyes with silver-painted lids. His knee-high blue boots clacked softly as he approached Azmi.

"Are you the wizard?" of course he is, you dummy.

"My name is Ghali. My specialty is magical potions." His voice was sweet.

Well, that’s the part where you get your item you so hardly fought for. Azmi was…. underwhelmed. He had hoped this quest would be his big break. Something to bring his passion back. Make him happy again. Fulfilled. But all he felt was emptiness. What did you expect? You're never going to get better.

"Wizard- Ghali - I want something to….help me? I feel sad and empty…all the time? But also my mood changes very rapidly and I think awful thoughts? I can't do or enjoy things anymore? And I want to get better?" What are you doing over-sharing you dolt?

"I have a potion that will help you get better, but it won't work overnight."

"But… you said it was magical''

"Yeah, it's magic, not an impossible miracle. You can't rush this. You have to give yourself time to heal." He took out a calm-green bubbly potion with his painted hands. "Take this once a day. When you finish the bottle, it regenerates. Keep taking it."

"...Every day?" What, no blue potion?

"Yes. There's no shame. You need it. It's like being wounded by a dragon. This isn't something you can recover from by ignoring it. You need proper treatment for it."

"…Okay." Yea, don’t blame yourself for something you can't control. People who tell you to get over it are wrong. People who tell you you're weak are wrong. You're not exaggerating. You need help. "Can I stay here for a bit? I'm tired, but I feel a bit better."

He smiled, "Sure." He waved his long arms and turned the ground into soft grass. "Just tell me when you're ready, I'll teleport you back."

Azmi blushed and awkwardly lay down, putting the potion carefully in his pocket. Wow that’s lush grass the wizard looks very cute too I'd really like to see him again I'd like him to serenade me ah I'd like to get home and talk to Char they'll be very happy, I did a quest Char I'm a good person I forgot to eat my sea serpent I'll eat it when I get up probably wow maybe I should’ve been a wizard instead of a hero…Soon, his thoughts died down and he drifted away to a good sleep, the best sleep he'd had in ages.

#personal #story #fantasy #mywriting

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