#this sketch has been lying around in my folder for about a Month so i was like. im going to color this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chocominnie · 3 years

Text

Wasted Times- Pjm.

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Warnings: A lot of Fluff, Angry Sex, Slight BDSM, Dom!Jimin, Jealous Reader, Fuckboy!Jimin, oral sex, Penatration, Foot Job?, kissing, spankings, seriously lots of jealousy and tension, use of the word ‘’whore’’, exhibitionism, cum in pants

Word count: 5.8k

Authors Note: So this is a draft of mine from way long ago. It was also posted on another account I used to be apart of, but no longer am. It’s an oldie but goodie.

Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken.

Summary: Two weeks, five days and counting since you’ve last seen him. Two weeks since that sinful body was tangled in yours, where you both let out strings of moans and shared sloppy wet kisses. Two weeks.

If it wasn’t for Hoseok that whole night wouldn’t have happened. Despite you already knowing of Jimin, what you didn’t know is that looks can deceive. Oh yes, they deceived you very well. When you met him it felt like it was unreal? It felt as though you were talking to an angel. The butterflies in your stomach whenever he spoke made you feel the blood rush to your cheeks. So unreal.

A cute cheeky smile and a squeaky laugh. Someone’s who’s kind hearted, as what you previously had heard from Hoseok himself. Oh, but did he leave the major detail out from you.

He’s a fuckboy.

One that knows exactly how to play his cards right. Knows how to get into a girl's pants and make them melt with the sweet and dirty things that pout out his mouth like honey. He has the looks and charms for it. The hand he runs through his hair constantly, those pink full lips begging to be touched by someone else.

You’ve only recently found out about most of the girls he’s slept with. It wasn’t a lot but enough for him to qualify to get tested every month. All because he can’t keep his god damn dick in his pants. And you, the fool, fell for it. You fell for his ways.

Yet he pretends to know nothing. He pretends like he didn’t break your heart by saying he can’t commit to a relationship. He was just a one night stand. He fucking acts that nothing happened between you two prior to having sex.... and it hurts.

Now you’re sitting in your office stuck in-between whether to let that night go, or to bring it up with him. Because surely, he felt something too when you guys made love for an hour and a half right? Right?

‘‘Y/N. Did you hear me?’ ‘

You quickly snap back to reality to the nagging voice beside you. Taking a sip of your peppermint tea, you turn towards the young girl. Her full bangs compliment her perfectly shaped face. Her long, straight hair that curls at the end a bit is jet black with no sign of split ends or damage. She holds a blue folder tightly to her chest with a cheeky smile upon her face.

‘‘Mrs. Jane would like to see your work for this month’s upcoming project. Do you have the rough draft done?’ ‘

You nod, ‘’ I’ve finished it already. Are you collecting?’’ The girl nods her head and holds out her dainty pale hand. Next to you is your documents drawer which you rummage through for a good minute or so before finding your pink folder with all the information and sketches.

‘‘Thanks..’‘ She smiles, then walks away to her next prey. You let out a big sigh and place your hands in-between your head. Never have you had someone constantly be on your mind.

It was killing you.

‘‘ Child are you okay?’‘

You turn towards the voice to your left which sits next to you is your best-friend. Her smirk lets you know she knows what you’re thinking about. She knows. She also knows about that one night stand that you couldn’t shut up about two weeks ago.

You try to hold back your laugh, ‘’ I’m. fine.’’ You manage to choke out. She shakes her head again with that damned smirk on her face. ‘’ Was he that good that he has you sitting here contemplating life honey?’’

Your eyes go eyes go wide and soon enough you find yourself swatting her thigh while trying to cover your face of embarrassment. ‘’ Stop! Geez I shouldn’t have even told you about it.’’

‘‘ I knew about him before you even did. Once you told me after the fact, I automatically recognized who he was by the way you described his features so well.’‘ She shrugs, swiveling her chair around to face you. You do the same.

‘‘ What?’‘

‘‘ I went to high school with him. Park Jimin right? He was a ladies girl. Everyone wanted him. Plus he was a former dancer.’‘

Former dancer? It all makes sense. The way his body was nicely toned, not to muscly but noticeable. The way his hips moved every which way making sure his sinful area poked and pried at every nerve inside your walls. Made you let out strings of moans and whimpers because of how good he felt inside you. You’ve never felt something like that before. How dare he.

‘’ Well he has a cute friend. His name is Tae... Tae something. I don’t know but they were also friends in highschool. He was a handsome boy as well. If you would like to you know... tap that.’‘ She giggles.

Who does she think you are? Some type of person who gives away sex for a living? Definitely not. By the looks of your face she quickly abandons the subject. You decide it’s best to get back on task before your whore of a boss comes back around.

Only before that petite girl, with the bangs and perfectly trimmed straight hair, comes back with your folder and a ton of papers for you. As if this this day could get any worse.

‘‘ No I don’t want to go tonight.’’

It feels like you’ve said this on the phone more than ten times. You’re sure of it. He just doesn’t want to give up. You’d rather be in the comfort of your home cuddled up in a blanket watching Netflix all day. After-all, it is a Friday night and it has been a very stressful week for you in the office. A nice hot bath and a binge worthy tv show is all you want right now. It’s what you deserve.

‘‘ Come with us it’ll be fun. You can invite your hot best friend too.’‘ He says, and you know he’s smirking on the other line. ‘‘ Hoseok for one, you will not hook up with my best friend understand? Two, i’m tired. I want to sleep.’‘

‘‘ Oh come on Y/N it’ll be fun. It’s just a night out on the strip. It’ll be fun. I’m bringing Jimin.’‘ He tapers off at the end to wait for your reaction.

Could this be it? Another chance to see Jimin. Your chance to ask him.. if that night he felt something. Surely he did right?

‘‘ I’ll come. But that doesn’t mean i’m coming for Jimin. I’m bringing Scar with me as well.’‘

A few seconds of silence fills the other line. Which you know that Hoseok probably muted himself to scream in success. You take this time to think about what you’re going to wear. Something that’s eye catching? Or something that’s casual yet classy since it is just hanging around downtown. Why not do both?

Hoseok come’s back to the line and you notice he’s more cheerful. It makes you smile to yourself, how cute. ‘‘ Be there in 45 minutes. We’ll be waiting by Krystal okay? Meet us out front of that place.’‘

You two say your goodbyes and hang up the phone. Anticipation runs deep through you lacing your blood with it. Just the thought of seeing him again rubs you the right way.

Going into your closet, you take a good look at it and decide on a casual yet classy outfit. One that will surely catch his attention but very presentable as well. You hope that it’s going to pull through. Taking out your phone, you send a text message to Scarlet telling her all the details and to meet you here.

‘’This will be one hell of a night.’’ You smirk to yourself as you pull out the accessories to your outfit.

It wasn’t until you heard the doorbell constantly ring that broke you out of your trance of admiring yourself in the mirror. You look ravishing. Delectable. Every thing in the book. Surely you must have been admiring for quite some time because twenty minutes had passed and you didn’t even know it.

The doorbell ringing comes to a halt once you open the door forcefully. Scarlet greets you with a smile and a hug before coming inside.

‘’ Okay does this make my ass look bigger than it already is?’’

You glance over at Scarlet who’s posing in-front of the hallway mirror, earning a small chuckle from you. ‘’ Yes, that dress always look’s good on you.’’

Scarlet grins at you, ‘’ Thanks. I try I try. You look sexy Y/N. Who’s getting it tonight? ’’

You giggle once more before adjusting your black dress ‘’ You look so good Y/N i’m not lying. Did you put some make-up on?’’

You shyly nod your head yes, ‘’ Just a little. Not one of my dramatic looks.’’

‘‘ It suits the mood for tonight. Nothing to dramatic, more neutral.’‘ Scarlet says, picking up her purse again. ‘’ The dress does bring out your curves.’‘ She steps back and pulls out her phone for a snapchat picture.

The two of you pose in the mirror for a quick second then giggle afterwards. Scarlet brings her phone back down as her fingers begin to type at a rapid speed. ‘I’m going to caption it; Going out with my babe!’’

You on the other hand were to busy into the hearts snapchat filter with Scar in the background of your video. You tap her with a smile and she looks up with a smile as well. ‘’ We are so gonna be late Scar. ’’

‘‘ Okay. Let me just grab my purse and we can go.’‘

You can’t believe you’re actually doing this. The cool breeze is enough for you to handle. Not to cold and not to hot of a breeze. Downtown is busy tonight, especially the strip. The neon signs blare into your vision, the cars speed past with drunk laughing people. Music plays coming from each store or bar you two pass. There’s a jazz man who’s playing some cool tunes next to the giant water fountain. You drop a ten dollar bill into his case hoping to brighten those tunes up a bit. Couples are everywhere you look. You haven’t been downtown in such a long time. Everything feels so brand new to you. It’s so lively.

Scarlet walks confidently in-front of you, hips swaying naturally. You see Hoseok down the sidewalk waiting at the entrance for your arrival. Behind him is Jimin who looks fine tonight. He wears a long sleeve white Stussy t-shirt with black distressed jeans that show off his thighs. The same thighs that flexed with each thrust two weeks ago. The same thighs you wanted to ride because they had you soaking wet. Oh geez.

‘‘ Y/N! ahhh you look so good tonight!’‘ Hoseok grabs your hand and twirls you around a little. ‘‘ You’re right. Wow Y/N.’‘ A voice comes from behind him.

Part of you just wants to melt right into his arms right then and there. Keep it together.

‘‘ You don’t look bad yourself Jimin.’‘ It’s like your eyes refused to make eye contact with him. You want to, but can’t pull yourself to do it. ‘‘ And this is my best friend Scarlet.’‘

‘‘ Hello I’m Scarlet or Scar for short. Nice to meet you.’‘ She smiles, Jimin takes her hand and gives it a kiss. His eyes never leaves hers when he does so.

Scarlet lets out one of her nervous giggles as he lets her hand go. ‘’ How sweet.’’ Jimin smirks at her, ‘’ No worries. I’m Jimin, Park Jimin my love.’’

You almost choke at those last two words. My love? Seriously?

‘‘ Okay enough now that you’ve met my flirty friend who doesn’t know boundaries...’‘ Hoseok glares at him, earning a shrug from Jimin. ‘‘ .. I’m Hoseok. I’ve seen you on Y/N’s social media.. and I must say you are very pretty.’‘

‘‘ Thank you Hoseok. You are handsome as well.’’ She says.

You decide to end this introduction and start off the night. ‘‘ Alright enough of the talking. Can we have some fun tonight?’‘

‘‘ I agree, let’s get some drinks first.’‘

Only one hour in and you’ve only had one long island ice tea that you haven’t even finished yet. Somehow you’ve got tricked into third wheeling. Hoseok and Scarlet seem to be hitting it off very well walking in front of you. But walking next to you is a quite Jimin. He’s to busy scrolling and typing on social media for him to even notice you. Oh so you thought.

‘‘ Y/N...’‘

The butterflies in your stomach begin. What could he want? ‘’ Hmm.’’

Jimin locks his phone and places it in his pocket. He then looks at you with that oh so familiar warm smile. ‘’ They seem to be hitting it off well yeah?’’

Oh. ‘’ Yeah. I ship it.’’ You giggle, crossing your arms.’’ How have you been? Haven’t seen your pretty self in weeks.’’

‘‘ I’m fine. You know, work and stuff.’‘

‘‘ Yes I can say the same. I’ve got some things going on as well.’‘ His eyes shift back towards the busy city. ‘‘ I’d be lying if I didn’t say I missed you.’‘

You stop dead in your tracks. He missed you? All this time you had thought he didn’t care but he does? ‘’ Missed me huh. Or did you miss the idea of me.’’

He smiles, ‘’ Can it be both?’’

You decide to let that comment slide. ‘’ Well Jimin. I missed you too.’’

‘‘ Great so I can do this.’‘

You’re caught off guard by his lips connecting with yours. Both of you move in sync with each other. Jimin open’s his mouth more so his tongue can move more freely inside of yours. Both of your tongues fight for dominance making you moan inside the kiss. His hands cup your face, sending chills up your spine. Soon you find yourself whimpering for more, but you can’t let it go this far so you break away first.

‘‘ Hmm I missed those lips on mine. Sorry if I spooked you my love.’‘ Those dark brown eyes look deep into yours. ‘‘ I missed us talking constantly before we..’‘ He trails off, looking away from you smiling shyly.

‘‘ Yeah me too. We spent a lot of time texting and calling each other before that. But after that night we sort of.. stopped? I’ve been meaning to bring this up without it being awkward.’‘ You bite your lip, fiddling with your fingers.

Jimin looks around you guys. Scarlet and Hoseok are nowhere to be found. As he expected. ‘’ Well it looks like our friends ditched us. Have you eaten?’’

‘‘ I munched on something before I came here with you guys.’‘ You say, eyes shifting towards the city again. ‘‘ Well if you’re up for a little bit more of a walk I know this good place on the boardwalk. We are getting closer and closer to the beach.’‘

‘‘ Is this you asking me on a date Park Jimin?’‘ You giggle, covering your mouth with your hand. ‘‘ It can be considered our first friendly date. I would love to take you out some other time where it’s not last minute my love.’‘

‘‘ Stop saying that.’‘

‘‘ Saying what?’‘

You roll your eyes playfully, ‘’ My love. Stop saying it.’’

Jimin raises his eyebrows at you in amusement, ‘’ Did you just roll your eye at me.. my love?’’ Your cheeks have never hurt this much before from constantly smiling, but tonight you just cant stop them. ‘’ And if I did?’’

‘‘ I suggest you don’t do that again.’‘

The walk wasn’t as far as you thought. Jimin had linked his hand in yours on the way there. It surprised you for a minute but you let it happen. He hasn’t let go since. The two of you are sat down at a table outside by a waitress who cannot keep her eyes away from Jimin. Only if she knew how much of a sex god he was. Then she really wouldn’t be able to keep her eyes away.

‘‘ The moon looks beautiful tonight.’‘ He nods his head over towards the sky. Your eyes gaze over the sandy beach and waves that crash onto the shore. The moon lit sky peering over it looks beautiful.

Jimin brings both of your hands onto the table and intertwines them with his. A smile appears on his face when he sees you shyly try to hide your smile from him. Jimin’s most favorite feature of you is your smile, and moans of course, but your smile brings him happiness. It’s something about the way your lips curl up into a smile and your eyes narrow a little bit with it. Or when you laugh at one of his comments or jokes. It makes him happy inside and out.

‘‘ So, what were you saying earlier my love?’‘

You playfully roll your eyes again at that nickname. Before you can roll them again, Jimin’s smile drops and he let’s go of your right hand. You furrow your eyebrows at him for a second until you’re caught off guard with a tiny slap to the inside of your thigh. You hiss at the pain.

He says, ‘‘ Stop rolling your eyes at me. playful or not my love, I don’t like it.’‘

‘‘ Fine but stop calling me that nickname. You said it to Scarlet. Now I don’t want it anymore.’‘ You say, attitude high with your arms crossed.

Jimin chuckles and lets his tongue swipe across the inside of his jaw, ‘’Someone’s jealous.’’

‘’ I just see the name is useless is all if you’re calling other girls that.’‘

‘‘ Hmm jealous now aren’t we?’‘ He smirks, leaning back in his chair. ‘‘ Says the one who was all over me that night. Practically craving me. Now, what If i let someone else do that hmm? Equivalent to you calling other girls that name.’‘

His smirk never lets up. You know you trying to act all tough isn’t going to last. It’s just not in you. But what you can do is make him jealous and tease him for a while. You consider it a payback for those two weeks of hell you went through.

‘‘ I’m enjoying our night out Jimin. Thank you for taking the time to catch up with me tonight.’‘ Your face is innocent as ever, sipping on your water.

His expression changes when your foot travels up his leg and onto his crotch and slowly grazes over the tip of his dick. Jimin glares and bites his lip at the constant friction between the head and your foot going in agonizingly slow circles. He let’s both of your hands go to try and pry your leg away but you increase pressure making him choke out a small wince.

‘‘ Aww. Cute.’‘

Jimin’s head pops up with a death glare on his face, ‘’ Don’t call me that after you just tried to pull some type of stun-’’

Your foot begins it’s slow circles again. It’s fun watching him stop his sentences. The way he holds in his moans and bites his lip. It turns you on very much.

“Fuck,” He grunts, eye’s closed.

You stop once your food arrives. The same waitress that can’t keep her eyes off of Jimin. She makes eye contact with her, and he winks as she places the food in-front of him. Your face drops into a stone cold expression. Once the waitress leaves his head slowly turns towards you with his famous sly smirk. He knew just how to press your buttons.

You start back up again, going at an even faster pace at this point. He curses at himself and his eyes close again. You smile when he starts to shake his legs and breathe heavily. Only for Jimin’s eyes pop open with a devilish smile that confuses you. He grabs your leg and makes sure that your foot is positioned right ontop of his dick. He rolls his hips to the movement of yours, looking you dead straight in the eyes. You go along with it for now. But your eyes almost buck out of your head when he starts letting out moans and grunts as he throws his head back.

‘‘ Mmm fuck Y/N you do this so well.’‘

You’re at loss for words. The risk of being caught mixed with the sight you’re seeing now has your panties becoming wet.It takes all your might not to just jump over the table and devour him when he sighs in relief. You watch his body convulse of the aftershocks. So fucking sexy.

And as if nothing had just happened, he picks up his fork and begins to eat his pasta. The rest of the night is silent. You both eat in silence but in the inside you want to say something but you know better. The stunt you just pulled has something coming for you. Maybe payback wasn’t such a good thing after all.

After Jimin comes back from the restroom, assuming he cleaned himself up well down there, he sits back down at the table with a warm smile. It confuses you.

‘‘ Do you want to leave now? We can go to my place and just chill for the night. Looks like the two love birds might have already went back to one of their place’s.’‘ He says, grabbing your hand once again.

You nod your head dumbfounded at what you didn’t know that was going to happen at his place. But you agree to go. What can go wrong?

The moment you guys enter his luxurious apartment, he pins you against the wall and raises your hands above you head. He tilts your head and nips at your neck, alternating between kissing and sucking. He hit one of your sweet spots that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

‘‘ Please Jimin.’‘ You cry out. Slowly pulling away, he pulls you from against the wall and bends to dip an arm under your legs to lift you up bridal style.

He deeply chuckles into your ear, ‘‘ You have an eventful night planned out for pulling that stunt at the restaurant sweetheart.’‘ His words sends shivers down your spine.

Jimin closes the door behind him, giving you a taste of comfort before he has his way with you. He places you on his bed and you stare into those dark brown eyes that you love oh so much.

‘‘ Face down, ass up now.’‘ He growls.

You nod your head and do as told. Soon you feel your dress being unzipped and thrown to the floor. You’re in nothing but your bra and baby pink lace thong. His hands run up and down your spine, then to your ass.

‘‘ You ruined my pants today. Made me cum inside them since you wanted to feel like you had control over me.. babygirl.’‘ He says, hands stopping right above your ass.

‘‘ Count for me Y/N.’‘

You don’t even have time to take a breath in when the first hard impact comes. It wells tears in your eyes but you love it. You love every smack and every second of it. And so you count for him, you count all fifteen hits to your sore,red ass.

‘‘ You’ve taken your punishment well.’‘ Jimin says soothing the pain by rubbing over it softly. ‘‘ You looked so pretty doing what you’re told my beautiful girl. You deserve every inch of me. You deserve all of me.’’ His voice is soft and low. It intoxicates you.

Jimin shifts you onto your back, his hands tracing every inch of your body. You prop yourself up with your shoulders and you don’t jerk away, instead you let him lean in and kiss you passionately. The lewd sounds of the two of you sharing a wet, sloppy kiss can be heard throughout the apartment. You whine in his arms wanting more than just the kiss. He growls in return, yanking your head back to mark up that pretty neck some more. His hands swiftly makes their way towards your nipples, you moan out in response.

“mmm so cute and hard for me.” He flicks your hard nipples with his index and middle fingers on both your breasts. The way he speaks is sinful. Your panties grow even more wet as he pinches your nipples to make you whimper. “ Making pretty sounds for me hmm? Got you all wet baby?’’

With his hands dropping to your hips, he pushes you to lay down on the bed. Your breasts look so captivating to him. Your back arches when his lips connect to your right breast and soon to your left.

“Jimin...’’ You whimper, tugging on his hair to get him to look at you. He pauses the swirling of his tongue on your breast and looks up with lust filled eyes.

“ Yes sweetheart?” He coos.

‘’Off... t-take it off.’’ You whine, moving your hands towards his clothing and tugging on it firmly.

Jimin smiles before balancing on his knees to lift off his shirt. You watch him strip his shirt off, revealing his beautifully toned stomach and sharp v-line. You want nothing more than to run your tongue across him, leaving hickies behind.

Once he takes off his shirt, he dips back down to you to kiss your lips once more. ‘’ Your reaction was instantaneous, your back arching as your hands flew to his hair in shock at the pleasure it gave you. You really were sexually frustrated. Just him kissing you was all too much for you to handle.

As if he could tell what you wanted, his hand found its way to the hem of your lace thong. He feels how wet you were with his index finger sliding up and down your entrance. Your breath hitched as he slid them off with his teeth.

Your mouth instantly falls open when one thick finger slides inside you, your wetness pouring out beneath his finger. Once his finger is coated in your juices, he pulls out of you leaving you whimpering at the loss of friction. You watch him slide his wet finger into his mouth, his eyes close as he hums around it.

“You taste so fucking good. Let me have more of you yeah? He says, waiting for some type of consent from you.

You nod, wanting him more than ever.

Jimin props both your legs up onto his shoulder, licking his lips at the sight of your glistening core. You are left exposed to his lustful gaze as he took in the appearance of your swollen lips. Your lips spread apart to expose your clit that desperately seeks attention.

And so he provides it. His head dips down to get to work on your cunt. The pleasure you feel is outrageous, it has you clawing at his back, not even letting up, before letting out your never ending moans. You knew for a fact that Jimin’s tongue was a work of art when put to the test.

“Oh fuck! ” You yell out, arching your back when his lips begin to suck harshly on your clit, that bubbly feeling in your stomach appears.

“Do I make you feel good ? Hmm, use your words.” He encourages, using two fingers to spread your folds apart to lick and suck on your clit.

“It feels so good Jimin, oh my gosh, please don’t stop. Fuck!” You cry out, tossing your head back as you clutch onto the sheets once more, leaving his hair alone. As soon as he hears that, he seemed to lose control. His fingers start abuse your g-spot in sync with his sucking on your clit. That’s all you took for you to explode around his fingers. Your body spasms when you close your eyes. You can practically hear your heartbeat pounding in your head.

That doesn’t stop Jimin though. He continues to abuse your hole but you can’t handle the over-stimulation. You grip his wrists to stop him in which he obliges. He pulls his fingers out of you slowly and shows you them before sucking on them harshly.

“ Such a naughty girl now aren’t we.” He coos, rubbing your thighs that shake endlessly. “Want more princess?”

You nod your head, to busy lost in a trance. His words always get to you. A boy who knows his way with his words. The things that come out his mouth laced with either sweet venom or sugar. Damn him. Damn him for making you feel like this. Damn him for letting you fall under his ways.

You don’t realize all of his clothes were off until the head of his cock is sitting at your entrance. He’s a nice size, as you remember, but it’s the thickness that gets you. He has a lot of girth and it damn sure stretches you out.

“Shit, oh my gosh.” You moan, letting your head fall back as he starts easing into you.

“ Mmm babygirl,” He growls, using one of his hands to spread your lips, giving him the bes view of you taking him all the way. “Fuck just look at that baby. Your little pussy stretching to take my thick cock. Feels good yeah?”

“ Yes Jimin, fuck, it feels so good please. ” You whimper, wanting to feel all stuffed and full. Finally he bottoms out and you definitely feel it in you.

Jimin’s hands grip your hips as he starts to move inside of you. Since your previous orgasm residue was still there, mixing with your fresh juices, every time moved in and out your juices would drip.Lewd, wet slaps filled the room as the pace quickened, wanting to get you to cum again.

Your cries of pleasure filled the room. There was no point in hiding them now. With his hips moving at a fast pace, and his dick murdering your g-spot, it makes you feel that familiar feeling again.

“My good girl, you’re doing so well for me.” Jimin smiles, praising you as you become undone around him. Your hole spasms around his length and it feels like heaven for him. Jimin holds himself up on his elbows, resting his face against yours while he gently eases you through your orgasm.

“You don’t know the things your body does to me Y/N. The faces you make when i’m fucking your brains out. You look like you’re in pure ecstasy because of me and only me, baby.” He whispers, his lips hovering just above yours. You nod and press your lips against his. Smiling into the kiss, his hips begin fucking you again, getting up to his previous pace.

Your body is automatically put into over-stimulation mode. “Are you going to cum again for me?”

“Mhm, oh my god!” You whimper, closing your eyes shut harshly. Jimin pulls out of you, and starts to slide his cock up and down your folds to bring you to another orgasm. You let out a scream as Jimin watch your juices fly and soak everywhere around you both. Your death grip on the sheets havent left and your back is arched so high from the bed that he has to bring you back down.

“Fuck, that’s it. You’re squirting princess.” He praises you, smiling as he doesn’t stop movement, juices everywhere. “You’re squirting so much baby look at you.’’

The feeling is too much for you so you shut your legs around him. Jimin smiles at you when you finally open your eyes. They hardly stay open but long enough for you to see him get himself off using his right hand. You open your mouth to say something, but he interrupts “Shh princess, you’re too sensitive. Maybe next time.”

You nodded with a small pout on your lips. You want him to cum inside you. To feel his hot sperm coat your insides. Your body says otherwise. You are spent, exhausted to the max..

Just as he is about to cum, you sit up and climb over to him. Your mouth quickly finds it’s way to his length and as if a habit, you begin to suck. ‘’You don’t have to princes- fuck.’’ He groans, releasing his load inside your mouth while you deep throat all his length.

Soon you pull away from his cock after he cums. You open your mouth to show him and then swallow it all down. ‘’ Filthy whore.’’ He smirks, pecking your lips.

Jimin kisses your forehead once more, before lifting up and disappearing into the bathroom. He returns with a warm, wet towel to clean up the mess between your legs. Your eyes flutter open and close. You catch a glimpse of his nicely toned back when he turns to disregard the towel. He comes back again with a green t-shirt which makes your heart flutter as he pulls it over your head. Another forehead kiss, then those nose, then the lips.

‘’ Jimin?’‘ You coo.

He climbs in bed beside you, ‘’ Yes?’’

‘’ We never discussed what we are...’’ You say quietly, picking at your fingers.

He laughs softly, ‘’ You know I can’t commit right now. I have too many things going on and-’’

‘’ Excuses Jimin.’’ You pout, turning away from him. ‘’ Aww come on don’t be like that. Listen, if I ever get my life together and the ladies off of me you’ll be the first one I run to, my love.’’

‘’ Promise?’’

‘’ I promise.’’

Oh so you had thought. Another two weeks had passed and the same thing happened. Now you’re stuck in your office again contemplating life, as Scarlet would say. The only difference is, he texts you more often. Usually good morning and goodnight texts. An occasional ‘how was your day.’

You can’t help but to wonder what he’s probably doing with other girls. Feeding them empty promises. Saying sweet nothings in their ears. Letting them hear what they want to. It’s no doubt he knows what he’s doing. No doubt.

Only if he hadn’t wasted your time.

Two weeks and counting since you’ve last seen him. Two weeks since that sinful body was tangled in yours, where you both let out strings of moans and shared sloppy wet kisses. Two weeks.

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sangoundercover · 4 years

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I have about a million wip’s from last year and it currently feels like I can never get back to those but this one is a rather clean sketch and not part of any other photosets so I thought I’d just throw that on here since everything has just been lying around in my folders for months __________________

also up on twitter and pillowfort in case this gets yeeted

#supercorp #my art #citrus #lemon

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cheshiremadd · 4 years

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Uprooting Bindweed

Ao3

I'd had the idea of Rena and Chat talking about Marinette and Adrien in my WIP folder, and then @galahadwilder posted the perfect prompt on discord to go with it: what if Chat Noir fired Rena Rouge.

Thank you SO much to @alexseanchai and @sweetmeatdale for your feedback! 💜

Speaking of Alex, they came up with the title, because they're amazing like that. Bindweeds are used as "food plants by the larvae of some Lepidoptera species, including the convolvulus hawk moth". With that information and the Bindweed tarot card, I knew a more perfect title would not be found.

The Akuma of the Week was searching for Marinette. The fourth time this month, and he was really hoping there was nothing to that. So many targeting the same person not Chloé or Lila seemed strange to him. But that was a worry for another time.

Chat Noir and Rena Rouge had been sent ahead to the bakery (he was very glad that he’d stashed Marinette somewhere else). Rena was to Mirage herself into the designer and play bait, but they had to wait until Ladybug could lure the akuma closer. Five minute timer, and all.

Rena reached her balcony first, and went to the trapdoor without hesitation. Chat figured he’d have to be the one to open it, and had been planning how to go about it without giving away how familiar he was, but Rena had no qualms. His stomach soured at the thought that he wasn’t the only superhero to visit Marinette.

She’d redecorated some since he last was in her room. He wasn’t able to come as often as he wanted, and they typically preferred the open air and view of her balcony when the weather was warm.

Adrien’s modeling photos were still present, but they’d been updated to more recent shoots. On another wall were more candid pictures. Their friends and classmates. People he assumed were Marinette’s family (only some of whom he’d met). Several of Kitty Section. Her and Jagged Stone and Penny Rolling (it still blew his mind that she’s on a first name basis with them). Lots of her and Alya and Nino. Fewer of Adrien.

He knew she had more of Chat than of Adrien. But she kept those on her phone, locked away in a secret folder. Too much chance that someone would see her walls.

One caught his eye, placed directly in the center, the spot of honor. A high res of Chat-him and Ladybug. They’d thrown their arms over each other’s shoulders and snapped half a dozen selfies. It’d been Ladybug’s idea to submit the best of them to the Ladyblog, giving civilian them plausible deniability.

The last wall, above her sewing supplies, held her inspiration boards. One for general inspiration, holding her favorite pieces from her favorite lines (only one of which was a Gabriel piece, he noted with some interest), some fabric squares of different colors and patterns, and scenic pictures from around Paris. The other, he knew, was more specific to whatever she was currently working on. Pinned to it was a handful of dried flowers, a fabric swatch to match each flower, and several sketches.

Chat glanced at Rena, realizing she’d been quiet this whole time. She was staring at Adrien’s modeling photos, the look on her face unreadable. He looked with her. He wondered if there was a specific shoot Marinette favored.

“This must look so strange to you.”

Chat looked back at her, but said nothing. He wasn’t sure what he could say that wouldn’t give away exactly how close he was to Marinette.

“I promise she’s not some weird stalker in love with a celebrity. Well. He is a celebrity and she does have the biggest crush on him.” Um. What? “But they’re actually friends. She didn’t even like him when she first met him. The—the Wall actually started because he wasn’t allowed to hang out very often, and no one could get any candids of him.”

What?!

His shock must have shown on his face. He turned back to ‘the Wall’ in an effort to hide at least some of it.

“You seriously didn’t know?” Rena said. “You’ve got to be, like, one of two people in Paris that doesn’t. I keep flopping on whether Adrien knows or not. One minute it’s like he’s encouraging her feelings, the next he’s going on about how glad he is to have such a good friend.”

Chat tried not to sputter. “How—how does ‘no candids’ turn into—” He gestured at the collage of Adriens.

“None of them were perfect.” Rena said it like she’d heard it a million times. “This photo shows his sincere eyes, but the rest of the face is photoshopped too much to be his real smile. ‘That advertisement had most of his real smile!’ ” She pitched her voice higher in mimicry. “ ‘But they shaved several centimeters off of his waist! Several! He’s skinny but he’s not that skinny can you believe they felt like they needed to change that, Rena?’ Well, she didn’t say Rena, she said my civilian name. I mean—you get it. And, oh, that outfit looks really good on him, it looks like something he’d choose to wear himself, but he looks so tired in that one. I bet that was at the end of that all-day shoot.”

(They didn’t actually shave inches off his waist. They did shave a little, but that wasn’t the point because—) He never realized that Marinette paid so much attention to him. He wanted to deny it. She’d specifically told him that she didn’t have a crush on him. And Marinette hates liars.

But. But she’d been embarrassed, that day. And she was embarrassed around him a lot. Especially when Alya was involved. It’d taken him a long time to notice that, but once he had, he saw it everywhere. And with this new piece of information…it shone a whole different light on many of their interactions.

Chat swallowed. He wasn’t sure what to do with this knowledge. He’d been in love with Ladybug for…for a long time. And Marinette. Marinette was special. Rejecting her was hard enough the first time, but at least he’d known that it’d never work between a superhero and a civilian.

Oh, Kwamis. She had a crush on Chat, too! Adding that event with this new understanding, he realized she never meant to confess to him. She’d probably been about to backtrack, but then her parents interrupted, and it was out of control from there.

What better evidence that someone truly liked you for who you were than falling for you twice and not realizing it?

Rena shuffled a bit, finding other things to poke her nose in, and Chat realized that he’d never responded.

“So, you don’t think it’s creepy that this girl has like twenty pictures of her crush on her walls?” He didn’t think it was creepy. He thought it was endearing. But he was curious what she would say. She’d been interestingly defensive of Marinette.

She snorted. “Hey, if it’s crazy, Adrien’s her same kind of crazy. He’s got more photos of Ladybug on his phone than I do, and that’s saying something.”

His brain came to a complete stop. And then worked overdrive. How the fuck did Rena Rouge know that.

She sighed, picked at her flute, and continued. “I’ve been wondering if she shouldn’t give him up, though. It’s starting to get unhealthy. Ruining her friendships in class.”

His chest tightened and it became hard to breath. Loving him was bad for her. The thought rattled around, but what she said next wiped it all away.

“There’s this girl in class, Lila. She’s an amazing person, done all these things, and has a real chance with Adrien. Marinette can’t let it go. She swore that Lila was lying, then dropped it and now just gives her the cold shoulder. Won’t go to group outings if Lila’s involved. Keeps flaking out. Avoids her completely. Lila’s trying, so hard, to keep the peace, mend bridges, and Marinette just refuses to listen.”

Rena dropped her hands, hitting her thighs, and paced. Agitated.

“It’s jealousy, pure and simple. And if she’s going to be like that, then I just don’t know if I can approve her being in a relationship. Especially with him.”

Chat felt something inside him harden. Gritted his teeth. Considered biting his tongue. He knew who this was. It’s plain as day now, and he’s mildly surprised he didn’t see it before. She’s supposed to be Marinette’s best. friend. And this was how she thought of her?

To be fair, Rena looked torn over this. Chat could see the hurt in her eyes, the worry in her bitten lower lip. The frustration in the creases of her brow. And she was telling all this to Chat, whom she only passingly knew.

But he couldn’t keep the distaste from his face. “Marinette’s right. Lila Rossi is a fucking liar. You think she’s got a real chance with Adrien Agreste? He wouldn’t touch her with my extendable baton. He only does photoshoots with her because clearly no one at Françoise Dupont knows what proper procedures for expulsion are, and that stunt Rossi pulled almost turned into Heroes Day 2.0.” He tugged down one of Adrien’s glamour shots. Marinette’s handwritten and detailed critiques ran along the edges. “From what it sounds like, Agreste would be lucky to date a girl like Marinette.”

Rena stared at Chat, stunned. “What do you know about Lila?”

He let out a short and hard laugh. “Enough. That little interview on the Ladyblog? I doubt there’s a true word in it. I mean, Ladybug’s best friend? I’m Ladybug’s best friend!”

Some of the tension released from her shoulders and she rolled her eyes. “Right. I forgot how jealous you can be, too.”

Chat growled at her. His ears flicked back, low on his head, and his tail whipped through the air agitatedly. “If you’re going to sit here and defend that manipulative bitch then you might as well take that miraculous off right now.”

Rena stepped back into a defensive stance. She was a decent fighter, but he was better. If she refused to give it over peaceably—

Something thumped on the roof. Ladybug. There was still an akuma, and that took priority. They needed to be where Ladybug expected them.

“Mirage, now.” His words were short and clipped. He pounced past her and opened up the window opposite of where the akuma would be coming from. “Follow the plan. We can talk about this later.”

The plan worked out like most of Ladybug’s plans do: perfectly. Chat’d tied the villain up in Marinette’s tarp-roof, presented with a string-of-lights bow and a flourished bow to his Lady to his Lady. She did her thing, tossed the spotted paperclip into the air, and Marinette’s balcony and room put themselves back together. The glamour shot even taped itself back on the wall.

Chat sent Ladybug a look. She gestured in a direction and he nodded. He was pretty sure he knew the roof she meant.

Rena passed by him with wariness, but he paid her no visible attention. She took off with Ladybug in the agreed direction while he turned to the akuma victim. He had a princess to protect.

“Here, let me get you down to street level,” he said. The deakumatized girl seemed hesitant to step into his arms, but relented after seeing no other way down. “Do you remember anything?”

Tears shone in her eyes for a moment, but she swiped at them and tried a smile. It didn’t work. “I—I think I’ll be okay. It’s stupid, I just…let my stress get the better of me.”

He opened his mouth, but she cut him off with a gasp. “Oh, no, Marinette! I didn’t do anything to hurt her, did I?”

“Mlle Dupain-Cheng is fine,” he hurried to reassure her, “but…do you remember why you were after her? Did she do something wrong?”

“No! No. Marinette is lovely; she’s always helping us out in the Garden Club!” The girl paused, ashamed. “I was just feeling overwhelmed and she always seems so put together, she juggles all these responsibilities…I was jealous. Like I said. Stupid.”

“Hey, hey, your feelings are not stupid. Everyone gets stressed and feels like they’re drowning at times. I bet if you asked Marinette about it, she’d say that she always feels like that.”

He remembered himself and what he had to do, and glanced upwards.

“I’m very sorry. I’d usually stay longer and make sure you’re really okay, but I have an urgent something.” He handed her one of the business cards he’d made up. It had information on a number of Akuma support groups. “I can be back in about 30 minutes if you want to wait?”

Her smile turned a little more real. She took a deep, calming breath and let it out slowly. “I think I’ll be okay,” she said again. “I’ll—that’s good advice. Talking to Marinette. Thank you, Chat Noir. For caring.”

He smiled and saluted her, then bounded off. His baton confirmed that Ladybug and Rena were still active a few rooftops over. But then he watched Rena’s signal go out and put on a burst of speed to get there in time. They weren’t on the roof, it turned out, but in the alleyway adjacent to the building.

Ladybug’s eyebrows raised in silent question when she saw him. “Sorry, Bug. This is something that needs to be done.”

Alya looked between the two. Suspicion bloomed and, with it, fear.

Pernicious cat gods, this was going to be awful.

“Alya Césaire.” Chat held his hand out. “The Miraculous. Please.”

She grasped it so hard her knuckles turned white. She took a big gulp of air and said shakily, “This feels final.”

He stared at one of his closest friends, and didn’t let himself waver.

“Your recklessness has put many in danger, including Ladybug and myself. You gave Lila Rossi a platform to speak, to spread her lies. You, who had held a miraculous before, and likely would again. Whom Ladybug had shown a partiality to in interviews and questions. You had every opportunity to check Rossi’s story.”

And, oh, he sounded exactly like his father. That grated.

“In giving her credibility, you opened several of your classmates up to her manipulations. Your best friend warned you about her lies, and you wrote it off as petty jealousy. You tried to write off what I told you as petty jealousy.”

He could kind of see how she’d come to that conclusion, assuming Marinette never told her about that cringe-worthy ice skating date and knowing that she was in love with him. (Alya said ‘crush’. Having this new option to attribute to Mari’s behavior, he knew it was more than that.)

“Furthermore, I can guarantee that at least one terrorist watches your blog. A civilian claimed to be a superhero’s best friend and you broadcast that to the world. What happens when said terrorist decides to use that?”

It was harsh, and damning. But it had to be said. She needed to understand.

Alya looked from him to Ladybug and back, then repeated the motion. “You—you can’t…” Alya’s voice broke. Her eyes settled on Ladybug, who appeared to have turned to stone, she held herself so rigidly. “He can’t do this. Right? You hand out the Miraculous; it’s your decision. Not his!”

Ladybug’s stormy eyes turned to ice. The Ladyblogger realized her mistake and opened her mouth to salvage something, anything, but Ladybug cut her off. “You, of all people, should know that Chat is my equal. He’s right. I should've…but I didn’t…” She shook her head, once. “I stand by his decisions.”

Chat released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. Alya’s eyes grew bright with tears and she clutched the Fox Miraculous harder. She stared at them, and they stared at her, and she finally dropped it into Chat’s claws.

Ladybug’s hands fluttered in Alya’s direction. She pulled up short, though, unsure if her touch would be welcome.

“This doesn’t make you a bad person, Alya,” she said gently. “You’ve been lied to and manipulated. That’s not your fault. But, as a reporter, it’s important to consider the consequences of distributing information. Just as it is to produce evidence to back your stories.”

Alya’s hand pressed against her mouth, muffled a sob.

Ladybug hesitated, considering, and then spoke again. “You can still be a hero, Alya. Magic, the miraculous, it doesn’t make you into what you aren’t. You make you a hero. And, like I told Chloé, being a hero starts with your everyday life.”

Silence. The only sounds were the girl’s sniffling and the pounding of Chat’s heart. Even the sounds of the city muted. He had to force himself to stay still. Fidgeting felt disrespectful somehow. It was broken by Alya.

“So—so Lila was never your friend?” she asked thickly.

Ladybug’s voice was so gentle, yet cut through what the Ladyblogger had known like a knife. “No.”

Alya nodded. Wiped her eyes and tried to pull herself together. Her short gasps of breath betrayed how upset she was. “I. I think I’ve—” She swallowed. “Got some thinking to do.”

She turned to face the street, straightened her spine, and walked out. Her walk looked a little robotic to Chat, a little too forced to be her normal. She barely made it ten meters before Chat heard Nino call out to her.

Good, he thought, deflating a little. Nino will protect her.

His priority was his Lady.

“Well, it looks like you finally joined me in getting past the time limitation.” His attempt at lightening the mood fell flat even to him.

Ladybug didn’t respond at all. She took a big, shuddering breath.

“Oh, Bug…” Chat was quick to wrap his arms around her, and gently pull her head to rest on his shoulder. He coaxed her into a shuffle-walk until his back met the dirty alley wall, the heel of the hand that still held the Fox necklace rubbing up and down and across her back. “I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head back and forth; his claws tangled further in her hair. He tried not to listen to her quiet tears. He drowned out the sound of Nino and Alya moving on. The cars on the street. Instead he looked for the delicate and distinct sound of an akuma’s wings. She deserved a moment to mourn without worry.

Ladybug took a deep breath.

“You were right.” Her voice sounded wet. “Her blog affects many, and we were probably the only ones she was going to listen to.

“Actions…actions have to have consequences. Alya wasn’t seeing them, and—and maybe we shouldn’t be judge, jury, and executioner, but—the longer this goes on the worse they’ll become.”

Neither of them moved. He continued to find no evil bugs. Or feathers, but they usually went weeks in between Mayura sightings.

A gentle wind blew. They were having a round of good weather. Sunny days that were just warm enough to make the breeze feel perfect. He was hoping it’d hold through the weekend.

Ladybug pulled away to wipe her eyes. He fumbled a folded black handkerchief with green embroidery into her hands and she shot him a grateful, if watery, smile. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Oh, that just warmed him down to his toes. And emboldened him to push a little more. “Hey, I was wondering, would you mind saying that bit about me being right again? Because I could listen to that all day—”

He internally cheered as his partner huffed out a laugh and rolled her eyes. “Careful, kitty. I can see your head getting bigger by the second.”

She returned fire!

Mission accomplished.

That meant it was time to go, he guessed.

Chat stood there a moment longer. Contemplative.

“What are you thinking about, minou?”

He turned to her with a small smile, trying to hold it back and mostly failing. She crinkled a smile in return and raised an eyebrow.

“I’m going to get me a girlfriend.”

He said it so resolutely, so surely, so smugly, that she couldn’t help but laugh. “You are, are you?”

He nodded. His smile spread to full blown glee. “If she’ll have me. Rena said something while we waited, and it just made me think. There’s this girl, LB, and fuck is she amazing. She’s been waiting for me for the better part of two years, and I just realized that I’m crushing on her. Hard. I don’t even know when it started.”

He sighed, happy. “I’m going to ask her out. Tomorrow. And pray to the kwamis that she gives me one last chance.”

(Adrien didn’t ask Marinette out the next day, because Alya looked awful and he figured she needed the support. He’d count himself lucky if she didn’t get akumatized over this, and would attribute the entirety of that luck to his princess. He did invite her to lunch the day after that—he’d thought it’d be more difficult than it was, but Alya was already leading Rose off to a quiet corner—where he managed a stuttered and stilted confession. He honestly had no idea how Marinette managed to understand it, but she must have because she gave an enthusiastic “Yes!” and the next thing he knew they were making plans to explore the city together on Saturday.)

It's the job of the Black Cat to recognize when something’s not working, and to get rid of it. Destruction is necessary for Creation to truly thrive. And, sometimes, that means destroying what Creation loves. But, sometimes, the thing Creation loves is the vine that's choking her.

(Or enables the vine that’s choking her.)

#miraculous ladybug #chat noir #ladybug #rena rouge #alya salt #alya learns a lesson #lila salt #adrienette #ml fanfic

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redcameleon · 4 years

Text

Superstar Series

Chapter 13: Reunion

Summary: The group finally kicks off their tour, and Sakura and Sasuke’s interactions have never been this awkward.

Rating: K.

It is only a few weeks before they kick off their first tour date. Stress levels are building up higher than before. Despite his intention, Sasuke can’t stop thinking back to his little encounter with Sakura the other day. He can still vividly remember her face, the words she said to him.

Shikamaru has just finished a meeting with the creative board and the head stylists as they all exit the conference room. Sasuke just happens to pass by when he notices Ino, Hinata, and Karin murmuring among themselves as they exit.

“Do you think Sakura will agree?” Sasuke’s eyes perk up at the mention of her name.

“I don’t know but she has to.. At this point we could use all the help we can get!” What is this? What is Sakura supposed to agree to? Shikamaru notices how Sasuke stops in his footsteps and moves to greet him.

“Sasuke.” Shikamaru motions him to enter the room. Sasuke gives him a nod before entering and closing the door behind him.

“I want to let you know first. You know how swamped we are right now, right?” He nods. Sasuke notices the bags underneath his eyes that mirror his own. He can’t possibly miss the mess that has been going on around the office. Understaffed is just one word to describe it. To be fair, they never expected their company to skyrocket in the past year alone. Being from a small company, there is only so many you can hire. But now that their scale is getting bigger, that means their performance venues are getting bigger, and they will eventually need to hire more help.

“We’ve decided to rehire Sakura for this tour.” Sasuke’s eyes widen in surprise. Not because of how outrageous the idea sounds, but because of all people, he never would have thought Shikamaru to be the one to propose the idea. After all, based on their last interaction at the office, Shikamaru’s words had pretty much influenced Sakura’s decision to quit. But now here he is, trying to get her back to the company. Honestly, Sasuke is delighted at the news. If Sasuke alone could not convince her to come back, maybe a more formal invitation will.

Sakura sits on the chair across from Shikamaru. The background jazz music fills the space, tuning out the indistinct conversations around them. Sakura fiddles with her straw as she shifts her gaze between the beverage in front of her and the folder lying on the table.

“Please give it another thought. We really need the help. You’re one of the most senior staff members, and we simply don’t have enough time to recruit a lot of new people.” Sakura takes a sip of her drink.

“When do I have to decide?” Shikamaru leans back in his chair.

“I’ll give you two days. Should be more than enough.” Sakura gives it one last glance before sighing and grabbing the folder.

“I’ll contact you with my decision.”

Sakura tucks the folder in her tote bag, bows to Shikamaru and exits the café. She walks back to her apartment, mind heavy with thoughts. To some this might be a straightforward answer, but to her, this concerns too many things that she can’t carelessly decide on the spot. Heck this will only make her resignation look like a joke. The reason she resigned in the first place was to draw the line between her and Sasuke’s relationship. Coming back to work for them, to work for him, would mean that all of that effort to stay away from Sasuke will be in vain. It is a different story if they both no longer have feelings for each other. But just from their little encounter at the park the other day, they both know that is far from the reality that they both still care about each other. Perhaps too much to maintain a professional relationship. If she were to come back, there is no guarantee that they can keep their relationship under wraps. The risk of being exposed and ruining each other’s lives are still up on the table.

Sakura comes to a stop at the red light.

But then, she can’t be so selfish as to turn her back on them. Like what Shikamaru said, they need the help. And being one of the senior staff members for their group, it’ll take years for someone to be able to replace her, and they both know time is not a luxury they have right now. She cannot stop thinking about her coworkers, Ino, Hinata, and Karin, how they were the ones who must have stepped in her place to fill her void. She cannot imagine the amount of stress that must have given them. She secretly feels guilty for her decision that a tiny part of her is starting to regret it.

Meeting Sasuke the other day was not just a coincidence. It was destiny. She had to see him one last time to be sure. One thing she is sure of is that her feelings for Sasuke will not go away. Not then, not now. No matter how hard she tries to not think about him, her heart cannot lie. She will always love him. Now she has been given the perfect opportunity, or excuse?, to come back. They need her. How can she turn her back on them?

She takes out her phone and dials Shikamaru.

“Hello?”

“Shikamaru-san.”

“Hn. That was faster than I thought.” Sakura smiles.

“Yes. I’ve given it some thought, and-“

Ino sits in her cubicle, chin in her hand as she browses through some pictures and concept ideas. She scribbles down some notes, making a relatively long to do list for her and her make up team. Letting out a tired sigh, she runs her hand over her face, deciding to get up to the vending machine and fetch a nice cold brew. Nothing like a good ol’ cup of coffee to wake her up.

Just as she gets up from her chair, she notices a figure standing a few feet away. She focuses her gaze and immediate recognizes her old coworker, and friend.

“Sakura!”

“Hi there.” Sakura giggles, spreading her arms.

“You-“ Ino runs up towards her, embracing her in a tight hug. “I can’t believe you’re here forehead! It’s been so long!”

“Sorry it took me so long.” Ino pulls back to look at her.

“So, does that mean you’re working here again?” Sakura gives a reassuring nod, and Ino has a sudden urge to hug her again.

“Yes! Oh my god I have so many things to tell you!” Ino swings her arm around her friend’s shoulder.

“Me too. I guess I haven’t been entirely open about myself.” Ino is no idiot. Even though Sakura hasn’t told her about Sasuke, she was able to figure things out rather quickly. She just does not know all the details.

“How about you buy me some coffee and we can catch up?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Huffs and puffs of air fill the room as the music comes to an end. The four men immediate plop to the ground in exhaustion.

“Hey, we did great! Don’t you guys think so? We’ve never been more in sync.” Naruto comments, pride evident in his voice.

“Well yeah, we’ve been busting our butts for months, we better be good!” Kiba comments, making Naruto chuckle.

“Looks like I caught you all in the right time.” A female voice enters the room, prompting them all to sit and turn their heads to the source. Their eyes widen when they see a certain someone peeking through the door with a bag of snacks.

“Sakura-chan!” Naruto gets up, as if all his strength has been replenished and pulls her into an embrace. “You’re back!”

Kiba and Suigetsu join him, giving her side hugs.

“We’ve missed you lots!”

“You mean my snacks?” Sakura eyes Kiba.

“Nonsense! Of course we miss you.” Sasuke stands in the middle of the room, observing their interaction. His heart is beating at two hundred beats per minute, unsure if it is from their dance practice or from her.

Sakura hands the delicacies to the members, happy at how quick they dismantle the packaging and devour their contents. Sasuke slowly walks towards her, eyes never leaving her form as he takes in the sight in front of him. She is here. She is finally back. Is it for good? That is the only question that remains.

Sakura gives him a warm smile as he approaches her, keeping himself at an arm’s length.

“Hey.”

“You’re back.”

“Hm yeah.. Shikamaru did a pretty good job convincing me.” He needs to remember to repay him somehow.

“So you’re staying right?”

“For now.” That’s a good enough answer for him. For once, he can finally be around her again.

“Hey Sasuke, if you’re not having any we’re gonna finish all of this.” Suigetsu chimes in. Sasuke gives her one last smile before heading towards the members.

“Leave some for me, will ya.” He ruffles Suigetsu’s hair before he sticks his hand in the bag, ruffling around a bit and taking out an onigiri.

Compared to their other practices, nothing can top off today’s.

The following days seem more vivid for Sasuke compared to other days. He does not know why but his mood has been greatly lifted, although his members seem to know what caused it, or who. The way his face would light up, the way he walks into the room with his shoulders broad, and his confidence apparent, only a blind man cannot see the effect Sakura’s return has caused him.

Trying to get back into her groove again, Ino informs Sakura on the latest changes. Reading meeting notes after notes, and going over sketches after sketches, Sakura is determined to get back to her professional self again. She is not going to let herself fall behind just because she was absent for a few months.

Occasionally bumping into Sasuke in the office, they only manage to spare a brief hello, how’s it going, and see you later. Still seemingly flustered around each other, they try to avoid any unnecessary physical touch. Of course, it is nearly impossible when Sakura is in charge of dressing up Sasuke.

Both crave for more, yet a tiny voice keeps holding them back. The pent up frustration somehow lingers in the air. All he wants is to just grab her cheeks and pull her into a kiss. All she wants is to run her hands all over him, to finally let herself love him fully. All they want is to just be in each other’s arms, to fully let themselves love. Knowing better that that will not do them any good, especially in the media’s eyes, they bury their urges deep down.

Days quickly turn to weeks, and before they know it, they are leaving for their tour tomorrow. They have one last meeting before they end the day early, giving everyone a good night’s rest to prepare for their departure.

One by one, the rest of the staff leave the building. Sakura is cleaning up her desk when Naruto walks up to her cubicle, leaning over the partition.

“It’s nice to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back.”

“You know, Sasuke seems to be in a much better mood lately.”

“Oh yeah? That’s good to hear.” She does notice how much he’s been smiling lately. Just his overall aura seems more.. cheerful. And her eyes would linger at him for too long, admiring how much happiness suits on him.

“You know it’s probably because of you, right?”

“I’m sure he’s just excited because the tour is nearing.”

“You know that’s not all.”

“I know.” She pauses. “But I’m not here to get back together with him. At least.. Not now.” She can’t seem to stop speaking when it comes to Naruto. He has that effect on people; he just makes people so comfortable.

“But you do want to get back with him?” Naruto eyes her, looking for some sort of confirmation.

“Well.. someday I guess? I don’t know Naruto. You guys don’t get the luxury of dating like normal people once you become famous. And I don’t want to be a burden for Sasuke, or cause his fame to plummet.” All of Sakura’s words have truth in them. All except for one thing.

“Believe me, you’ve never been a burden to him.” Sakura looks up to him, and sees fire burning in his gaze. She seems to wonder how Naruto can be so sure about that.

“How do you know?”

“I just know.” Sakura cannot deny the butterflies that are beginning to fly in her stomach.

The beginning is always the hardest part. Being that this is their first tour, things are bound to go wrong, and they just have to roll past it.

Running frantically across the room, Sakura grabs some tissue to dab Sasuke’s sweat away. The members have just finished their first set and are off to change for the second set. With just a ten minute intervention in between, they are being chased by the clock. She quickly gets Sasuke off his navy blue shirt and into another shirt with beaded accents on the collar and cuffs. Sasuke buttons it up while she dabs some more powder on him, fixing his make up.

“Great, all set!” After muttering a quick “Thanks.”, Sasuke speed walks out of the room and into the stage elevator.

They are all running on autopilot as they let their bodies go through each song just like how they practiced. With a few bumping ins into people, and a few shoutings here in there backstage, they somehow manage to finish their first day cleanly.

The fans’ loud cheering can be heard from outside the venue, and nothing feels more refreshing than knowing how months of preparation, rehearsals, and meetings are starting to pay off.

Days go by as they move from one city to the other, and one country to the other, meeting fans from all over the world. Their energy never dwindles as they keep getting more strength from their fans.

But of course, just as they think the tour is going fine, a disaster happens. Suigetsu limps off the stage, arms swung around his bodyguard and leaning his body on him. During one of their final songs, he seems to have lost his footing and twisted his ankle. Withstanding through the pain and still managing to end the concert beautifully, all the adrenaline finally runs out as he feels a pulsating pain from his ankle.

They quickly summon the doctor to take a look at him. Suigetsu lies on the floor, panting as sweat streams down his face and neck. He winces when the doctor tries to lift his foot. The doctor wraps some ice packs around his ankle, and rests it on a pillow.

“I’m afraid you twisted your ankle. You need to take it easy for the remaining tour. And that means, no dancing. In fact, I don’t think you should perform at all.”

“What?!” Suigetsu abruptly props himself up by his elbows. There is no way he is going to miss out on a performance, not when they are at their final leg of the tour. “There’s no way I’m gonna miss out on a performance!”

“Suigetsu, don’t be ridiculous. You won’t be able to perform at all if you insist on dancing during the rest of the tour.” Shikamaru places his hand on his shoulder, trying to reason with him. Suigetsu looks over to the side, clearly frustrated with the whole situation.

Luckily, they are able to come up with a solution for him to still be on stage, as long as he does not dance. During their performance the following day, they let him sit on a stool in the middle of the stage while the rest of the members dance in front of him. His condition clearly bothers him. Nevertheless, he tries to put on a smile and sings through his parts. The members would sometimes dance around him, making him laugh. All the fans still give their all, cheering throughout the entire show, screaming his and their names.

The drive back to the hotel is quiet. The four members lean back on their car seat, looking over the window. Their minds keep replaying their performance, each taking mental notes of individual things for them to improve. They talk over some parts of their performance where Kiba’s tempo was slightly off beat, where Sasuke kept brushing over Suigetsu, where there was a part where Naruto sang off key.

Letting out a sigh, the members’ mood seems to be defeated as the car ride grows silent.

“But hey we did great too! I mean the fans loved us!” Naruto tries to cheer everyone up. Despite it being their first tour, they have to admit that they’ve been doing great so far, and Naruto is trying to make sure they all know that.

“Come on, we just have to practice harder and do a better job for the rest of the tour.”

“Easy for you to say, I can’t even dance with you guys!” Suigetsu flails his arms around in frustration. The members do not say a word as they all understand the pain of not being able to perform when it is their whole life! Suigetsu is just glad it is only temporary.

“Hey, you’ll still be with us on stage! You just have to focus on getting yourself healed. The faster you heal, the faster you can perform again.” Kiba gives him a reassuring smile, and slowly, Suigetsu’s mood is beginning to be lifted.

“Yeah you’re right. Thanks guys.” If it were not for each other, who knows how quick they would give up.

As they arrive at their hotel, the only thing on their mind is a nice hot shower and a good night’s sleep. Sasuke shuts the door to Suigetsu’s hotel room and begins to head over to his own room when he notices Sakura walking towards him. He can only assume she is walking over to her room, which he believes to be the one next to Suigetsu’s.

“Hi!” Sakura stops to greet him.

“Hey.”

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Aa. We ordered room service earlier.”

“Ah great!” Sakura fiddles with her thumb. She cannot believe how awkward she is with Sasuke. She just wishes she can start being herself around him again, whenever that will be.

“You were really great today!” Sakura glances over to him, a tint of blush painted over her cheeks.

“Thank you.” Sasuke looks at her, and he has to fight off a blush. He curses himself for not being able to say more, but he can only manage to say, “Thanks for helping us today.”

“Of course.” Sakura beams up. When did things go so awkward between them? He wants nothing more than to be around her comfortably. He thinks it must be from the stress. He supposes he can ask her to come over to his room. Some privacy might be better. That way, they can talk freely without being heard by anyone in the hallway. But is it the right thing to do? He still has not talked to her again about this, them. Would it confuse her even more? When he is lost in thought, Sakura speaks.

“I think I’m gonna hit the hay. Good night Sasuke-kun. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Aa. Good night.” Sakura walks pass him and enters her room.

Tch. His heart aches for her, for her presence, for her love. Oh, how much he misses her.

She closes the door behind her and leans on the door, letting out a heavy sigh. Her heart aches every time she sees him. Oh, how much she misses him.

to be continued.

<--Chapter 12 Chapter 14-->

#ssff #ssfanfiction #sasusaku fanfiction #sasusaku #sasuke #sakura #fanfic #otp #redcameleon!writes #superstar!series

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astxlphe-fics · 4 years

Text

Snapshot.

Atsushi likes to draw in the park. He doesn’t realize how many times he’s drawn the handsome photographer until the man comes talking to him.

Kuniatsu / Artist Atsushi, Photographer Kunikida (also ft. bug lover kuni)

Word count : ~3K

Atsushi settles down on the grass, back against the tree, and crosses his legs. He sets his cardboard folder against his knees and opens his sketchbook.

It’s new, and empty, a gift from Kyouka for his birthday, along with the set of pencils he’s brought with him. He puts the metal box on the ground next to him, picks on and looks around.

It’s a sunny day, in April, so the weather is still somewhat cool and the park isn’t as packed as in the summer months. Atsushi takes in the tree line, in the high building behind it, the people walking, the guy sitting on a bench playing a video game, the blond man lying on his stomach, a camera in hand.

He starts to draw.

Broad strokes shape the trees, from gross shapes first until he moves on to smaller details, leaves and patches of grass and the shape of a man with a camera.

It takes over an hour for Atsushi to get to the point of drawing him, deciding last minute to add him to the scenery, and when he looks up to check if he has moved, he finds the man in the exact same position.

Utterly still, and a look of complete concentration on his face.

Atsushi draws him, smiling to himself, taking great care in the placement of his finger on the camera button, in the way his messy ponytail falls on his back, in the angle the sunlight makes his glasses glint.

About another hour later, about ten minutes after he changes page and takes on drawing a spider that crawled up his leg, the photographer sits and stretches, setting his camera around his neck. Then he walks to the man on the bench, who puts his video games in his trench coat.

They exchange a few words, and leave.

Atsushi tries to imagine what this man could possibly have photographed.

Bugs.

What Kunikida absolutely wants to photograph is close-ups of bugs.

It takes longer than he expects, but waiting is something he can do. His roommate is Dazai Osamu, so his patience is forged in fire, iron and exasperation.

The last bug close-up he takes is a caterpillar crawling its way to the nearest leaf, set right in front of his camera, and he has a pretty good shot of it eating.

When he is done, he sits back and stands, joining Dazai, who puts away his video game.

“Are you finished?” he asks, and Kunikida nods.

“I’m done.”

“Show me!” Dazai leans over to see the screen of his camera, almost knocking Kunikida off balance.

“Oi, be careful!” He huffs and turns the camera back on and opens the gallery, flipping through the different pictures he took during the last few hours.

There is, besides the caterpillar, a group of ants carrying bread crumb from where a family had picnicked for lunch. He shows him the ladybug as well, particularly proud of this one, as it's a picture of it as it takes off.

Several grasshoppers, a yellow butterfly and a bee.

Dazai looks over the pictures, and his nose wrinkles as he makes a face. “That’s gross, Kunikida, you could at least try to take pictures of more glamorous subjects.” He grins. “Like me.”

“Bugs are certainly glamorous,” Kunikida shoots back. “Unlike you, they’re an essential part of the ecosystem and are underappreciated. They need to be more recognized for the role they have in preserving our environment!”

Dazai sighs over-dramatically, draping himself on his shoulder. “Am I not an essential part of your ecosystem? Kunikida, you black-hearted man.” When Kunikida rolls his eyes, Dazai pulls himself straight again. “I’m only trying to help you. If the cute boy over there knew you took pictures of bugs—”

“The what now.”

“Don’t turn around,” Dazai orders, and Kunikida almost does as a reflex. Instead, he glances back to where Dazai is looking, to a (admittedly cute) white-haired young man sitting under the tree. “He’s been staring at you for an hour.”

“He’s drawing,” Kunikida hisses, starting to walk away. “This activity usually requires a lot of staring. He just happened to look in my general direction.”

Dazai doesn’t look convinced, but he shrugs. “Suit yourself,” he says. “But you’re wrong. He was looking at your butt.”

“Dazai.”

The park is a good source of inspiration, Atsushi decides on the third day of drawing there. He changes his spot every time, looking for new sceneries and people to draw. There are a lot of critters he ends up doodling, from birds to bugs and a few squirrels.

He brings a hot drink with him today. The temperature has dropped during the night, and it’s pretty much cold, so there is no one in the park besides Atsushi himself — and the photographer.

Today he has a tripod and facing away from him, and it’s an angle Atsushi rarely draws anyone in, so he takes the opportunity to put it down on paper.

His friend is with him today too, and Atsushi plans to draw him as well, but he quickly forgets about him. He puts special attention in the angle of the photographer’s shoulders, well defined by the blue coat he’s wearing. It stops under his knees, mid-calf, and then Atsushi makes sure to draw the folds of the pants just right.

Once, the photographer makes a movement to turn away, seemingly in Atsushi’s direction. Atsushi ducks his head, pretending not to be watching.

Then he tries something new. He looks up, trying to guess what the man is seeing, what he is taking a picture of, and sketches it as well as he can. It’s not perfect, but it’s a fun game that he finds out he likes to play, for now.

Once he is done, he catches sight of a cat playing in the grass and changes his subject.

Maybe, he thinks, he should bring Byakko to the park with him, next time?

Kunikida comes back to the park often.

It’s not necessarily to take pictures of bugs, though he likes it, but he needs practice in taking pictures of larger sceneries and finding a focal point in it.

A subject, noticeable enough to draw the eye, placed in a way that makes it looks part of the larger picture rather that the focus of it.

He turns on his heels, and catches sight of the young man he has seen two days before — the one who, Dazai insisted, was looking at his butt. He’s sitting just on the line between shadows and sunlight, bent down, focused on his drawing, hair overshadowing his face.

His pen scratches at the paper, and he periodically looks up to the calico cat playing a few meters away.

When he does, the light hits his face just right.

Kunikida twists the head of his tripod and turns the camera in his direction, making sure to include the cat. The white-haired artist isn’t paying attention to him at all so, the next time he looks up at the animal, Kunikida snaps a quick picture.

He opens the picture folder and stares at it.

It’s perfect.

It’s not the only picture Kunikida takes of him.

“You’re turning into a stalker~" Dazai teases, poking his side, and Kunikida flushes.

“I’m not a stalker!”

“S—ure. It’s not your fault he is so photogenic, right?”

On the latest one, he is lying on the ground, legs swinging slowly as he draws a different cat. This one is black and white, and Kunikida saw it arrive with him. It’s probably his cat.

Over the next few days, it seems like every time Kunikida tries to take a good picture, this young artist is just there, in a corner, looking a natural part of the place. He zooms in on one of them as much as he possibly can before it turns blurry.

He is smiling here, wide enough to show some of his teeth, to make his eyes crinkle and shine.

Kunikida spends several second looking at it, at every details of his face he can make out, committing them to memory. Then, he duplicates the pictures and crops it.

That’s a smile he wouldn’t mind seeing up close.

God, he’s starting to sound like Dazai.

Next to him, Dazai’s obnoxious laughter only gets louder, and Kunikida would strangle him with his bare hands if not for the attention it would draw.

“I should apologize to him,” he decides suddenly. Because taking secret pictures of a stranger isn’t simply weird, it can come off as downright creepy, and Kunikida is not a creep. Because he’s started to look for this young artist on shots he’s definitely not on, and to zoom in on his face, and this is getting out of hands.

“You can’t!” Dazai can barely contain his glee. “He’s napping!”

Indeed he is, and Kunikida gives up. He huffs and settles on the ground to take more pictures of bugs, stopping all movement to wait for one to approach him.

A few minutes later, he finds himself nose to nose with the young man’s cat, who bops its face on the camera lens.

Resigned, Kunikida adjusts the settings and presses the button. The cat’s nose looks enormous on the resulting picture, it’s curious eyes wide, its face magnified. One it's taken he sits up and shows it too the cat.

“There,” he says. "Are you happy?”

It stares at the picture of itself, rubs its head on Kunikida’s hand until he gives it a good scratch, and leaves.

The cold has passed now, as the end of April nears, and more and more people come to enjoy the sunshine and warmer weather. Atsushi sees families and several dog walkers.

He sets Byakko upon the grass. “Don’t go too far,” he tells the cat, who flicks her black-tipped tail at him before ignoring him.

The photographer is almost facing Atsushi today, so he has to be more discreet while drawing.

He focuses on his face, this time. On the line of his jaw, the curve of his nose, the shape of his eyes, and the way he frowns where he’s focused. He adds in as many details as he finds, and the more he draws the more his eyes are drawn to him.

By the time he is done Atsushi feels like he knows this face by heart.

The photographer’s expression changes as he takes different pictures of crowds while Atsushi records them in his sketchbook as fast as he possibly can, stomach fluttering as he discovers the range of emotions this man expresses.

It’s wonderful practice, especially when his tall friend annoys him until he turns to him.

“Stop it, Dazai,” Atsushi hears him snap when the friend in question purposely waves in front of the camera to wave at him. He supposes the picture is ruined, because the photographer emits a loud noise of frustration. “Dammit, it’s all blurry now! Stop that, you useless waste of bandages!”

The sound attracts Byakko’s attention, and she wanders away from Atsushi. She curiously paws towards the pair until Dazai notices her and bends down to pet her.

She rubs her head against the man’s hand, before messing around, coming close to knock the tripod over. The sight it almost as Atsushi on his feet, but before he can Dazai looks up. His eyes catch Atsushi and he smiles, wide, like a Cheshire cat.

Atsushi’s face burns. He has been caught staring. To make it worse, Dazai tugs on the photographer’s arm and points to the cat, then to Atsushi. The man picks up Byakko and walks over to Atsushi with decisive steps.

He's mad at him, he thinks as he tries to read his face. He’s going to yell at him for staring or for letting his cat mess around his equipment.

The photographer stops right in front of him, and Atsushi realizes his work is in plain sight. He slams his sketchbook close, hoping he hasn’t noticed it — and the handful of drawings of his face all over the page.

“Is this your cat?”

“I’m sorry,” Atsushi says, standing up to take her. “I’ll be more careful with her —”

“Please do,” the man answers, handing her to him. “What is she called?”

“Byakko.” He scratches at her ears and sighs. “I’m really sorry, I figured the park would be safer for her than letting her out in the streets.”

“No harm was done.” His face smooths over as he notices Atsushi’s distress, as if trying to reassure him. “She came over to me yesterday as well, and got her picture taken for her troubles.”

“Really? Thank you for not—you know—” He shrugs. “Uh, I’ve seen you around? Several times. I’m Atsushi.”

“Kunikida, it’s a pleasure.” His eyes fall on the discarded sketchbook. “I’ve seen you here as well, you seem to be a prolific artist.”

“I try!” He sends him a weak smile. “That’s how you progress, right?”

“Of course. Practice makes perfect— you must be skilled.”

“I can show you?” Atsushi offers, cheeks fading to a light pink. “If you want?”

Kunikida nods. “I can show you some of my work as well, if you’d like.” He gestures back at where his camera is still set. “I’m a photographer.”

Atsushi picks his sketchbook up again and flips it to the previous pages, trying to find one he likes enough to show off. He’s never liked showing his drawings to anyone, but Kunikida doesn’t seem the kind of man who would laugh at him, and something like excitation bubbles in Atsushi.

Until he realizes just how many times he has drawn Kunikida in the past few weeks.

“Uh—” The sketchbook snaps shut again, and he lets out a nervous laugh. “Would you look at the time! I should really head home!”

“What—”

It’s obvious, from Kunikida’s face, that he’s seen them. He glances from the sketchbook to Atsushi, who is currently stuffing his things in his bag as fast as he can.

“I can hear my mom calling me!”

It’s only after he offers to show Atsushi his work that Kunikida remembers just how many pictures of him are on his camera roll.

He is almost relieved when Atsushi runs away, because it would have been a lot to explain. He would probably think Kunikida is a creep.

“Or maybe not,” Dazai tells him, thoughtful. “You say you saw that he’s been drawing you? So, I was right, he was looking at your butt.”

“Dazai, I’m sure he didn’t draw my butt.” He sets up his camera and looks around.

“Shame, it's very nice.”

After three days of going back to the usual park, Kunikida finally resigns to the fact that Atsushi isn’t showing up anymore. Since then, all his pictures have been bland — incomplete — so Dazai suggested moving location.

This new park is larger than the previous one and different enough to give him new material. The trees are denser and clear-cut paths run through it. A fountain stands in the center, the water flowing with a soothing noise.

Next to him, Dazai flops down on the grass, staring up at the sky and pulls out his earphones. Kunikida takes a picture, mentally labelling it as “Dazai being a lazy ass, as usual”.

It's only half-hearted, because Dazai doesn’t have to come with him on his photographing endeavors, and some days Kunikida wonders why he comes at all. Besides, saying he doesn’t enjoy Dazai’s company would be a blatant lie, they both know it.

Suddenly, Dazai rolls on his side and takes one of his earbuds out. “Your favourite subject is here,” he points out. “Looks like someone had the same idea!”

Following his fingers, Kunikida finds Atsushi sitting near the fountain, scribbling in his sketchbook. He almost has his back to him, so he can’t see his face.

“You should—”

Kunikida doesn’t hear the end of Dazai’s sentence. He grabs his camera and walks towards him until Byakko, sitting by him, raises her head in his direction.

She stands and meows, attracting Atsushi’s attention, and he turns around. His eyes go wide as he sees Kunikida, and he stammers out something that sounds like “hello”.

“I would like to take a picture of you, please,” Kunikida declares, and Atsushi’s face turns into a deep, concerning red.

“Uh?”

He raises his camera. “You also don’t have to be embarrassed about drawing me. People watching — and drawing — is a strong hobby that can only lead to great progress in your art.” He pauses. “There are also several pictures of you I took without your knowledge and consent, I’m sorry. In my defence, you are often the only person who doesn’t move around.”

Atsushi looks a lot less panicked now that he knows Kunikida doesn’t hold anything against him, and laughs. “I hope you know how weird this sounds.”

“I’m aware.” His strict composure softens, and he pushes his glasses back up his nose. “So, can I take a picture?”

“Sure.” He sets his sketchbook down. “How would you like it to be?”

“Just a portrait.” He crouches to be on the same level as Atsushi, who is still sitting, and smiles as the camera is pointed to him.

It’s the first picture he takes where Atsushi is looking right at the camera, smiling at him, and Kunikida’s heart jumps in his chest. He sits on the bench, right next to Atsushi, to show him.

The young man leans over until their shoulders touch and stares at his own face, not unlike his cat did just a few days ago.

His cheeks are still pink when he pulls on of his uneven strand of hair behind his ear. “Could I see the other ones?” He gulps, and seems to gather the courage to add something else, twisting his hands: “I mean, I could show you mine—” his graphite stained fingers tap his sketchbook as he speaks “—and you can show me yours. Over coffee? Maybe?”

Kunikida blinks in surprise, taken off guard, but he smiles. “I would like that.”

#bsd #kuniatsu #kunikida doppo #nakajima atsushi #bsd kunikida #bsd atsushi #writing

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

malamente part 7 (branjie) - evan

art by @k-i-t-e-98!

AN: oh hello! It’s been a while! I’ll admit I had abandoned this story and dove headfirst into school this past semester, but I can’t move on from this little world and I really want to see this through. There’s no telling how long the next chapter will take, but I have a plan. This might have 11 chapters total, but that’s an estimate. Let’s see what more trouble I can get these two into. Shoutout to Meggie for her constant encouragement!

New to Malamente? Catch up here on AQ or over at AO3. I’m @formercongressman.

–

It’s a slow news day, but every day is a slow news day in this town. So Yvie’s got her sketchpad unabashedly open over her work computer’s keyboard, knowing there’s no easy way she can make it look like she’s actually hard at work were someone to come in and check up on her.

She’s trying to find the line between human and starfish for the five-limbed creature she’s sketching, and it’s proving more of a challenge than she had anticipated. There’s only so many places you can locate a face.

“Knock-knock,” a voice says aloud. Yvie cringes before she turns around, trying with little avail to block her sketch pad with her body.

Her boss is in the doorway. He looks chipper, he’s got his fist raised as if he was going to knock on her cubicle wall but no, that would be too normal and unobtrusive of a thing for him to do. She smiles with as many teeth as she can show. “Hi, Patrick.”

“How’s that school carnival story coming along?”

“Almost done,” Yvie lies. It’s been sitting in her drafts folder completed for two days. It wasn’t a story she could make anything mildly edgy out of, so she banged out a haphazard scene of kids and goldfish and smiling parents that she couldn’t get away from quickly enough. “Just putting in some final touches.”

He must know Yvie hates him; she’s not subtle, and it bugs her even more that he pretends everything is perfectly peachy-keen.

“That’s great! Because I’ve got something new for you.” He hands her a manila folder which she doesn’t open. “Something a little more exciting, a little more up your alley.”

“Great, I’ll take a look at it.” She sets the folder on her desk, turning away in the hope that he’ll leave.

“What are you drawing? Is that a starfish?”

Fucking hell.

She tosses the sketchpad into her desk drawer and slams it shut. “It’s nothing.”

“Well. Get me that carnival story by the end of the day!”

“Yup.”

She waits until she hears his footsteps recede, muffled by the dreary brown carpet, before she finally opens the folder. She’s curious, truly; that much she can’t pretend.

And damn, he wasn’t lying. It’s a big story, technically. Definitely not the kind of thing Yvie usually gets assigned. The first page is a police report of a rich white lady getting carjacked in the middle of the day about a week ago. The woman is important; she’s the wife of the chair of the symphony board. Yvie’s seen her smiling face on a billboard near the bank downtown, and she looks chipper even in the driver’s license photo paperclipped right below the report.

She knows the story she’s supposed to write. Community Rocked by Violence: Your Personal Wealth is Always Under Threat, with a picture of this woman looking stoic and a little hurt. She’ll write a paragraph about maybe why the guy did it, trying to realize and flesh out the narrative, and Patrick will cut it in editing and simultaneously lob off another piece of her willpower and soul. This story is an opportunity, sure, but she already knows where it’ll go, knows how it’s supposed to end.

She flips to the next page and the hairs on her arms stand on end.

It’s Victor fucking Paulson, smiling with his teeth but not with his eyes, in his Best Buy employee photograph. He’s the suspect, rumored missing for about a week, having taken off with this Nina West’s minivan. There’ll be no sympathetic paragraph for her editor to cut on this one, that’s for sure. She thinks of the screen door to his apartment slamming and waking Yvie up at three in the morning, Vanessa’s voice ricocheting off the buildings as she shouts back up at him, his cold and terse words back at her lost in the buzz of the bugs chirping in the night. He’s an asshole, Yvie knows that for sure. But this level of criminality is downright eerie. She whips out her phone to tell Scarlet.

Y: Have you seen Victor at all this week?

S: no, why?

Y: He stole a car, nobody’s heard from him in a while

Y: Just got assigned the story at work

S: sounds about right for him

S: that’s a big story baby!! happy 4 you

Y: Thanks, but it’s weird right?

S: it is

S: but as they say

S: bye bitch

Yvie chuckles and send back the thankful emoji. That explains why the neighborhood has felt different, why she hasn’t seen anyone coming or going from Victor and Vanessa’s apartment in the last couple of days. She wants to roll her eyes a bit at Vanessa for moving in with that older blonde woman the second her boyfriend skipped town, but she’s seen quicker U-Hauls and frankly doesn’t blame her.

She finds a sticky note on the back of Victor’s photograph. It’s in Patrick’s neat handwriting: police dragging their feet, he’s friends with cops, maybe investigate?

“Oh fuck yeah,” Yvie mutters aloud.

The non-starfish in her desk can wait. Yvie’s finally got a real mystery to solve.

–

“Vaaaaaanjie! Your girlfriend’s here with coffee!”

Silky’s voice booms through the dress store, earning them a concerned look from the few people shopping and a narrow glare from Vanessa’s boss behind the register. Brooke flushes red, nearly spills the latte she’s holding on the wall of wedding dresses beside them. Silky cackles as Vanessa pokes her head out from the dressing room.

“Bitch!” Vanessa hisses under her breath, loosely shoving Silky out of the way. Her cold glare melts as she shoulders up next to Brooke.

“Vanjie, huh?”

“You better not start calling me that.” Vanessa takes the coffee from Brooke’s hand with a well-concealed smirk. “Thank you, baby.”

She doesn’t bring up the “girlfriend” thing. They’re not girlfriends. They haven’t discussed it, haven’t thought to put a word on it. It feels risky, trying to cram whatever tenuous but wonderful arrangement they’ve managed to develop over the past couple of weeks into the box of a word. Besides, “girlfriend” feels frivolous. This is something else, not quite documented with language yet.

“You get off at six, right?” Brooke tucks a loose strand of Vanessa’s hair behind her ear.

“Six, yeah.”

“How does stir fry sound for dinner? I got some purple cauliflower at the farmers market and some Thai peppers and I wanna give it a go.”

“They make cauliflower in purple?”

“Vanessa!” A woman pokes her head out from behind the dressing room curtains, and Brooke watches the ice sink back into Vanessa’s eyes. “I think you already took your break?”

“Be right there!” Vanessa affects her voice, a kind of faux-sweetness that makes Brooke laugh while Vanessa’s manager turns away with a stern eye.

“That sounds real good baby,” she continues, voice softer, “but everything you make is good.”

Brooke rolls her eyes, knows it’s not worth it to argue with Vanessa on that. “I’ll have it ready a little after six, then.”

“I’ll be there.” Vanessa pops up on her toes to press a quick kiss to Brooke’s lips. She breaks into a smile that Brooke can’t help but mirror.

So it’s like that, mostly. It’s easy.

Brooke doesn’t really notice when Vanessa stops promising she’ll go back to her apartment eventually. Brooke didn’t really believe her in the first place, especially when the promises always came when Vanessa was splayed out adorably on the couch or picking up a pile of recently discarded clothing next to Brooke’s bed. Eventually Brooke suggested that Vanessa hang her work clothes up in the empty closet that used to be Jason’s, and that’s probably the moment that solidifies it.

Vanessa moves in. Her duffel bags empty out and disappear, and her makeup spreads across Brooke’s bathroom counter. The cabinets fill up with Takis and sour candy and other foods that would scald Brooke’s mouth, the fridge is stocked with leftover Chinese food Vanessa picks up for them both after work some nights.

It’s nothing like when she first moved in with Jason. He liked space, distance, room to think. Even in those early months he would lock himself away in his office after dinner and go to bed without saying goodnight. But Vanessa joins her in the shower, wraps her arms around Brooke’s waist when she’s cooking, falls asleep with her fingers laced against Brooke’s. Brooke thought maybe she just wasn’t cut out for domesticity. But this feels so fresh and good and right.

Whatever the opposite of loneliness is, Brooke thinks this is it.

It’s a week or so later and they’re sitting by the fireplace, wrapped up together underneath a knitted blanket Vanessa’s abuela had made, while Brooke flips through a Chekov play and Vanessa scrolls through her phone. Vanessa curls against Brooke’s side, a closeness and comfort that’s become thrillingly normal.

“This feels so easy,” Vanessa breathes into the collar of Brooke’s shirt. “Should it feel this easy?”

Brooke knows what Vanessa means. She tucks her book between the couch cushions and cards a hand through Vanessa’s hair. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“I just…” Vanessa sighs, straightens up, bites her lip. It’s a serious and vulnerable face, one that reminds Brooke too sharply where they are and how they got there. “I always wanted some fairytale romance, you know I love that sappy shit. Like in a rom-com where everything sorts out nice and happy in the end. And this, you, this feels like the end of the movie.” Her fingers trace around Brooke’s wrist. “But I keep looking over my shoulder. I keep checking under the bed. I keep biting my lip when I drive past cops, and I don’t know if that’s going to get any easier.”

Brooke pulls her close again, feels the emotion welling up in Vanessa’s shoulders and presses a hand against them, wishing she had her own magic to will it away. “I want it all to be easy. But life’s not a movie.”

“I know. I just want it to be.”

It’s quiet except for a few sniffles. Brooke holds her because it’s all she can do.

“Do you think we’ll ever get to be normal?” Vanessa asks after a moment.

Brooke smiles a little. “We were never normal.”

“Can we try it for a while? Cook dinner together, watch trash TV, tell me the shit from your past and I’ll tell you mine?”

That Vanessa’s eyes can glimmer like that after all of it, after everything, is reason enough to agree.

When Jason was still alive, Brooke had given up on a home. Hell, she’d largely abandoned love, or the concept of getting anything she’d expected or hoped for in life. Even someone who seemed like the most brilliant match – wealthy, educated, with famous friends and a divine record collection – could ruin your world, take and take until you were hollow and fragile as a seashell. Vanessa was far from her fairytale fantasy. Vanessa ticked none of the boxes she’d learn to look for. But life is not a movie, and maybe she could throw out that broke-ballerina-to-trophy-wife storyline script along with the coldness and cynicism she’d so far managed to shake.

“I want that,” Brooke breathes. “Yes, please, let’s be normal.”

Vanessa smells like spice today, cinnamon sugar with cloves. She laughs a soft laugh that’s just for Brooke, one that crackles like a fireplace. It’s warm here, Brooke thinks, the kind of place she could make a home.

–

The next morning, normal gets off to a rocky start.

The doorbell rings at eight A.M., and Brooke wraps herself in a robe to answer it. Her shoulders tense when she sees the gardener, who’d dug up her backyard before there was another body to bury. She had forgotten to call him to tell him there was no garden to fix, an oversight that snapped her immediately awake.

“Morning, ma’am. Warmer day today, thought I’d fill in your garden plot out back.” He’s chipper.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary. It’s already filled in.” She mirrors his smile. “Just eager to start planting, that’s all. I’ll still pay you for today, of course.”

The gardener looks at his shoes, and then towards the gate. Brooke holds the silence, an old trick she’d learned at fundraisers with Jason to maintain control of an unpredictable situation, when someone else was thinking. Any awkward silence can be a power grab if you minutely twist it in your favor. Fortunately the man doesn’t need much convincing.

“Alright then, Ms. Hytes. Thank you for your business.” He turns to leave and grabs something at the base of the doorstep. “Oh, and here’s your paper.”

She takes the paper from him, lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding as the door clicks behind her. That hadn’t been suspicious, she’s pretty sure, and her confidence grows by a centimeter.

She’d never cancelled Jason’s Sunday paper subscription, and she barely kept up with local news anyway. She lays it absently on the kitchen island while she fumbles with the french press, still a little too sleepy to remember exactly how strong Vanessa liked her coffee. Very strong, she guesses, and dumps and inordinate scoop of grounds into the glass.

“You bringing me breakfast in bed?” Vanessa appears in the archway, wrapped tightly in the comforter she dragged along with her.

Brooke smiles. She can’t think of a better morning. “Yeah, get back in there.” She pops a few slices of sourdough in the toaster.

“It’s cold without you.” She moves towards Brooke, nestling back into her. For a brief moment she allows herself that indulgent, cliche thought: they fit well together.

“If you were wearing clothes–” Brooke starts to tease, but then she catches sight of the front page of the paper, and her face contorts in shock.

“What? Did I–” But then Vanessa sees it too, and her shoulders tighten. “Shit,” she breathes.

The lower quarter of the front page is Victor’s face in black and white, stern and unfeeling. It’s his Best Buy employee badge photo. There’s a smaller photograph of Nina with Jon and the kids, their Christmas card photo from this year. But she can’t look away from Victor, whose gaze seems to be boring holes right through the newsprint.

Brooke reads over Vanessa’s shoulder. Thankfully, there’s not much there. It’s a scathing indictment of the police working on the case, who refused to tell the reporter nearly any of the details they had, apparently because they weren’t looking into it. It’s a call for answers, ones that the reporter herself wasn’t able to find. That’s good. That’s something.

“They’re still looking for him,” Vanessa says, worried.

“The police aren’t.” Brooke bites her lip, and rubs small circles into the skin of Vanessa’s shoulder with her thumb. “And Nina won’t push them. There’s nothing here to worry about.” And Brooke surprises herself by believing it.

The toast pops up. The kitchen smells like rosemary.

“Let’s forget about it, then.” Vanessa turns away for a moment, shakes her joints loose, and then looks up at Brooke with the trusting beginning of a smile. “We can forget about it.”

Brooke rolls up the newspaper and wedges it underneath folded cardboard in the recycling bin.

–

“The front page!”

Scarlet elatedly drops the newspaper down on the bed where Yvie is still cocooned in the covers. Yvie saw a draft before it went to print, so this is no surprise, but Scarlet’s bright energy this early in the morning hits squarely her like a dropped pallet of bricks.

“Under the fold,” Yvie murmurs, snaking an arm out to peek at it.

“Yeah, but it’s the front page! My girlfriend is on the front page on a Sunday. I’m getting this framed.” Scarlet bounces on and off the bed, then heads for the kitchen. “And I’m popping champagne.”

Scarlet likes champagne, always keeps a bottle or two in the back of the fridge to mark the smallest celebratory occasions, so it’s not that rare of a moment. There’s no orange juice for mimosas, but that doesn’t stop her. Yvie knows it makes her happy to pop a bottle, so she lets Scarlet shoot it off over her bed and the cork smashes directly into the light fixture. Scarlet cackles, Yvie rolls her eyes, and they drink directly out of the bottle.

“I hope this doesn’t lead to them actually finding him,” Yvie says between sips. “It’s been so much quieter next door.”

“He’d end up in jail, right? Or at least if he came back there’s no one left for him to shout at.”

“Lucky Vanessa.”

Yvie missed having her around, and she knew Scarlet missed having someone to snoop on. But even then, she knew that anything would be better for Vanessa than staying in that place. Yvie left home on her eighteenth birthday. She knows the allure of an escape hatch.

Still, there was more that just felt… off about Victor’s disappearance. While she had been researching the story, Yvie had called the toll companies for the highways outside of town, and there was no evidence of any plates matching the ones on the stolen car. D15NEY, a cheesy vanity plate she’d repeated too many times to forget. He could have taken back roads, sure, but stolen cars just usually don’t stay stolen for long. It got under her skin that the police hadn’t called to ask those questions, though they still didn’t have any satisfying answers.

Maybe that wasn’t her job. Maybe that was well above her pay grade. Maybe she shouldn’t be so bothered about a rich white lady who lost her minivan. But she had a feeling that kept itching at the back of her neck, Victor’s gaze glaring vacantly from that Best Buy photo, and the persistent inability to drop it.

“Hey,” Scarlet says, snapping Yvie back to reality. “I’m proud of you. And you should be proud of you too.”

Yvie leans over to kiss Scarlet’s forehead. “I am.” It’s not a lie. It’ll open up more interesting projects at the paper, maybe even a promotion out of working under Patrick down the line. And then a bigger paper, and then something national… She’s getting ahead of herself.

“And hey,” Yvie says instead. “You know I love you, right?”

Scarlet beams and nods and scoots up the bed to kiss her, but her foot gets caught in a blanket and she topples forward. Champagne splashes on the comforter, which has seen much worse, and Yvie laughs as Scarlet rolls into her arms.

“Drinking on an empty stomach at nine in the morning…” Scarlet muses to herself. “Bad idea.”

Yvie finally pulls herself out of bed, and drags Scarlet along with her. “C’mon, put a shirt on. I’ll make you toast.”

–

It still looks a bit like an unmarked grave, so Brooke plants her garden.

It’s winter, but they’re pretty far south and Brooke researches some plants that are hardy enough to still grow. Spinach, kale, rainbow chard; dropping the seeds into the soil feels like she’s sending them on a doomed mission, but she does it anyway. But soon they sprout, soon they flourish, and Brooke can hardly contain her excitement.

“It’s all the extra nutrients they got in there,” Vanessa jokes when Brooke drags her out into the yard to show her the leaves peeking out through the dirt. Brooke isn’t sure whether to grit her teeth or laugh, so she does both.

Maybe Vanessa’s right. A corpse in a garden is something like compost.

Soon they’ve got more greens than they know what to do with. They make salads and stir-frys and smoothies but it’s still more than they can eat. Brooke snags a small stand at a weekly farmer’s market, and gets hooked on this new reason to get out of the house. She quickly learns why it was the last spot available, nestled between a particularly smelly fishery and an apiary that likes to bring along some of their bees, but she learns to live with it and breathe through her mouth and she sells the veggies off at rock bottom prices. Turns out Vanessa’s magic can get rid of bee stings like they’re nothing.

Time passes. The cold air softens, and a weed springs up from a crack in the cement under the carport and weaves itself through the spokes on the wheel of Nina’s van.

Holidays with their respective families come and go. Brooke is grateful her family is too cautious and uptight about grief to ask her if she’s seeing anyone, but when she facetimes with Vanessa that night she finds out there’s a horde of Mateos eager to meet her. They come over in early February, and Brooke and Paula cook side by side while Vanessa’s cousins gleefully raid the liquor cabinet.

She overhears Paula whispering something in Spanish to Vanessa in the hallway – esta suerte, para encontrar alguien tan sincera y cálida e inteligente, es algo que solo ocurre una vez en la vida – too fast and affected for Brooke to understand. A second later she sees Vanessa dabbing at red eyes, careful with her makeup, and Brooke gathers her up in her arms.

“They’re happy tears,” Vanessa explains. “Really happy ones.” Brooke kisses her eyelids anyway.

They manage to get Nina, Silky, and A’keria together in the same room for a dinner party, and the night seems to be off to a rough start when Silky shouts over every carefully planned conversation starter Nina tries to initiate. But there’s very little an entire bottle of tequila can’t fix, and soon Nina and A’keria are dancing to Nicki Minaj while Vanessa and Silky shout out less-than-tasteful alternate lyrics over the music. They all crash in guest rooms, and Brooke is pretty sure she can hear Nina mumble, “Much more comfortable than the back of my car,” before she falls asleep on top of the covers with her clothes on.

Vanessa says it first. Brooke brings her an iced dragonfruit tea with boba home from the farmer’s market on a Tuesday afternoon. Vanessa is wrapped in a tangle of blankets on the couch, nearly finished with the Donna Tartt novel Brooke had gifted her just a few days before. She takes a huge sip from the drink, and with a mouth full of tapioca pearls, it’s a grateful sigh: “Ugh, I love you.”

It’s so casual that Brooke almost doesn’t catch it, and Vanessa is so wrapped up in the book that she doesn’t even look up. But Brooke pauses, waits, hopes.

Vanessa looks up quizzically and Brooke watches the gears in her head turn. The color rushes from Vanessa’s face as she catches up. “Oh fuck, I mean–”

“I love you too.”

“I love you,” Vanessa says it again, and Brooke knows that the dopiest smile is spreading across her face. Bubble tea forgotten, Vanessa climbs into her arms. They say it back and forth until the words almost lose meaning on their tongues.

She’d said it to a few high school boyfriends, said it to Jason, said it to the Icelandic ballerina after a week and scared her away, but this is the first time it’s felt right, and mutually true. Now Brooke says it whenever Vanessa leaves for work for the day; Vanessa says it when she comes against Brooke’s mouth and she could never have imagined I love you sounding both holy and obscene.

It’s like nothing ever happened. Normal works, until the ground thaws.

For a few rainy days in early April, Brooke lets the garden go untended. She’s about to plant her first tomatoes, and she wants to make sure she has the perfect weather to be able to spend all day lining them up in perfect rows. Her shoes squelch in the mud, a feeling she’s almost come to enjoy, along with the dirt that cakes into her knees as she crouches down.

But then she catches it. There’s a corner of a black trash bag peeking up from the dark soil.

She wants to live in the moment where it’s just a piece of trash that’s blown in from another yard, before everything clicks into its horrible place. It’s torn on the edges, tattered like an animal had gnawed at it. Shit. She’s scooping soil on top of it before she can even think, pushing it back down into the ground and far away. She feels something shift, something that is decidedly not soil underneath her hands but she refuses to think about it, refuses to give it a name.

The tomatoes won’t get planted today. She’ll wait for another day of rain to wash away that texture beneath her fingers, and that memory from her skin.

When she stands, she feels a tweak in her back and winces. It doesn’t resolve when she stretches or twists, just pinches back harder with every breath. Of course. Phenomenal.

Brooke pours herself a glass of wine and takes a bath. It’s three in the afternoon, but that doesn’t matter. Warm water doesn’t loosen the tension in her muscles, and the lavender scent of the bubble soap seems oddly tinted with hints of iron. She closes her eyes and resists excavating anything she’s managed to keep buried for months now.

She’s dressed in sweats when Vanessa gets home from work, curled still uncomfortably on the couch.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“I pulled something, I think.” Brooke omits any mention of the trash bag in the garden. It’s gone now, and it will stay gone, no need to bring it back up.

“Here, sit up.” Vanessa’s hands on her shoulders are an instant relief.

Vanessa doesn’t use her magic often, doesn’t need to. She’ll use it to wipe away her own bruises from running into cabinets or when Brooke’s got a pimple in the middle of her forehead, and on the rare and glorious occasion, in bed. Now, Brooke feels the warmth from Vanessa’s hands sparkling under her skin. The knot against her spine comes undone, the stress that she hadn’t noticed before melts from her shoulders.

Vanessa catches it. “You doing okay?

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” It’s a lie, and Brooke hopes Vanessa can’t sense that.

Vanessa hums and Brooke feels her reaching deeper, into the base of her spine. Something opens. “I think I–”

Lightning strikes. It feels the way broken glass sounds, exploding in shards that crackle their way up and down Brooke’s back.

“Fuck,” Vanessa shouts, pulling her hand back sharply and shaking it like she’s been burned.

“What was that?” Brooke tries to reach for Vanessa, tries to comfort her, but she holds her hand close to her chest. The electricity lingers in Brooke’s body, crackling like a blanket loaded with static.

“I don’t know.” Vanessa rubs her palm, pain in her face. Brooke wonders if she can heal that kind of thing herself. “Abuela never… I don’t know. Fuck, I’m sorry, baby.”

“I’m sorry.”

Vanessa gets up and runs her hand under cold water. Brooke sits on the couch, silent and particularly helpless.

Something is catching up with them, but Brooke has no words for it. It’s seeping into their normal, which turns out to be more fragile than she had thought. Ordered rows of tomatoes and the easy comfort of fresh love feel a bit distant. She feels it in every vertebra.

They decide that if nothing else, it’s a safe night for a TV binge. They order pizza and curl up on the couch, as Brooke holds tight to Vanessa and tries to settle into the weird static sensation in her spine. She catches Vanessa flexing her hands, rubbing her fingertips together, still feeling the aftereffects of the shock. They settle into bed like any other evening, huddled in the weight of too much unexplained.

Most nights sleep comes easily, but tonight it’s miles away. She silently counts to ten, fifty, a hundred, and still can’t get the thrumming feeling of worry in her chest to go away. After an hour or so of sleeplessness, she slips her arms from around Vanessa and gets up to find a book in the living room.

She stops suddenly before she can even make it to the living room.

Jason is sitting in a chair by the bar.

There are a few things you expect from a ghost. They’re supposed to be see-through, or pale and ragged like a corpse, or at the very least levitating. Jason is none of those things. He looks solid, human, too comfortable in a spot where he so often used to sit. He’s got a glass of dark liquor in his hand, swirling a large ice cube around, with a rueful smirk carved into his face.

If she hadn’t watched him die, hadn’t felt him go cold, she might think he let himself back in with the key.

“Brooke Lynn.” His voice has a sour edge, and she’s instantly reminded of how much she hates the way her name sounds when he says it. “It’s been too long.”

“This isn’t real,” she says confidently, elbow planted on the back of the other chair.

He cocks an eyebrow. “You wanna test that?”

“Yeah, actually.”

Jason throws his glass at her, and she braces herself, but the glass passes through her, no impact. She glances over her shoulder, looking for glass shards or any sign that this was real.

“I thought so.” Brooke narrows her eyes knowingly, a little self-righteously, and god it feels way too good to be able to look at him like that with no repercussions. A bit callously, she sits in the chair across from him.

“You still flinched,” he notes. There’s another glass in his hand, refilled with scotch and ice that clinks against the sides.

“Why are you here?”

“You drank all my scotch.”

“Well, you weren’t drinking it.”

“And there’s a 26-year-old shop girl sleeping in my bed.”

“My bed, now.”

“You always were a vindictive bitch, weren’t you? Under all of that? She can’t see it now, but give it a year. You know you’re meant to be alone.”

Brooke bites the inside of her cheek until she tastes blood. Jason always knew how to drive a knife.

“Why are you here?” she repeats.

“You’re getting too comfortable, that’s why.” The ice clinks against his glass. “I’m here so you don’t forget.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, you didn’t even know him–”

“I’m talking about me,” he smirks.

“You always are.”

“Would you listen? God. Justify that body in your garden all you like, but can you justify what you did to me? Have you heard of divorces, Brooke Lynn? Police reports? Fighting back?” Brooke feels her jaw tighten, and Jason catches it. His eyes light up, his words drip with sickly-sweet contempt. “No, instead of facing me, you spit on the life I gave you and killed me. You’re cheap, you’re greedy. But there’s quite a few different ways to stab someone in the back, huh?”

“Stop.”

Brooke feels ice prick at the base of her spine. It’s subtle, the first snowflakes just starting to fall.

Jason laughs softly to himself. It’s a face she’s seen too many times on him, that smug self-righteousness, one she never imagined having to see again. It’s engraved in the contours of his face, she notes. There’s no way to know the cruelty behind those laugh lines.

“You said it, honey. None of this is real. What does that say about what’s going on inside your head?”

Brooke stands, turning to leave, to run. She wishes she had a drink to throw in his face, wishes she had some way to hurt him. “You’re burning in hell.”

“Go back to that girl,” he calls after her, and she can hear his cruel smile. “You’re going to destroy her.”

In the hallway outside the bedroom, Brooke presses her face into the sleeve of her sweatshirt and breathes. Each breath is ragged, threatening to turn into a sob, but she packs it up tight, pulls it inwards and downwards. The pinpricks spread. Fuck.

Jason knows right how to get to her, how to wedge into those soft spots and make her wish they were never there. It’s impossible to write off. Ghost or fever dream, she’s haunted.

She presses the heels of her hands into her eye sockets, sets her shoulders, and goes back to bed. She settles in next to Vanessa, who rolls back into her touch.

“Hey, were you up?” she murmurs softly.

“Yeah, couldn’t sleep.”

“You talking to someone?”

“Nina.” Brooke lies. “On the phone.”

“Mmm.” And she’s asleep again.

Two lies in one evening. You’re going to destroy her, he said. Vanessa twists warm against her, settles against her chest. Brooke hopes Vanessa can’t feel her heart racing from where she rests her head.

Sleep comes in fragments, waves of unconsciousness so shallow she’s not even sure if she’s slept. Ice blue shards slice up and down her spine through the night.

–

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #nina west #scarlet envy #yvie oddly #branjie #scyvie #hurt/comfort #magical realism #malamente #evan #tw domestic violence #tw murder #concrit welcome #lesbian au

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kpurereactions · 5 years

Text

Wasted Times — Pjm

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Warnings: A lot of Fluff, Angry Sex, Slight BDSM.

Word count: 5.8k

Admin: Melanin

Two weeks, nine days and counting since you’ve last seen him. Two weeks since that sinful body was tangled in yours, where you both let out strings of moans and shared sloppy wet kisses. Two weeks.