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star-killer-md · 4 years

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Dream a Little Dream of Me Pt. 5

oh MY GOD. I swear this update bent me backwards and fucked me harder than Kylo Ren ever could. Like dear sweet jesus I don’t know why it was so hard for me to get this shit out of my brain and onto my google doc but she really just wasn’t having it. Anyway, here it is. Not entirely certain if I’m all the way happy with it, but it what it is and hopefully the weird symbolism and imagery came across well. I’m an english major so I can’t like not input that shit into my writing even if its a Kylo Ren smut fic. I hope you all enjoy this mess of an update. You’ve all been incredibly sweet and supportive and like you’re just great people. My lovely coworker beta’d this for me and more than one old woman definitely overheard us talking about Kylo’s dick while at work.

As a side note, I am new to the game of writing smut for the most part (and like long form fic) and I want to branch out Into writing more kinks and such, so if there is anything you want to see from me, please send a message! I need the practice 😂

AO3 Mirror

Part 4

Warnings: nsfw, violence against the reader, violence against Kylo, they may or may not have a physical altercation in this, minor blood mentions (like very minor), dirty talking, inappropriate use of the Force, lots of angst, like oh god so much, cockwarming if you squint, some amount of softness cause the author is a little bitch

Ship: Kylo Ren x Negotiator!Reader

Word Count: 7.6K (buckle up babes)

He wasn’t looking at you.

He hadn’t looked at you all morning.

You were looking though, couldn’t stop looking. Ever since you’d woken to find your bed empty and the Commander sat on the couch across from you, scrolling mindlessly through his datapad. There was a plate with crumbs left scattered on its surface and cup on the nightstand beside him.

You thought it might have been coffee. It was odd to think of him eating or drinking, for some reason you’d assumed before he didn’t need too. That seemed foolish now that you knew just how real he was.

How did he take it, you wondered. With cream? Sugar to ease the bitterness? Or did he like the way it burned and tingled without anything to numb its acidic sting.

On the small table in the corner, a silver room service tray sat abandoned. The fresh fruit was growing warm, filling the room with a sickly sweet scent that couldn’t even begin to cover the stench of avoidance that hung in the air.

He hadn’t spoken to you all morning either.

You both had yet to speak.

You might have asked about the coffee, but then you noticed the very clear indent of a head on the pillow beside you. A few black hairs stood out starkly against the cream colored sheets.

And then you remembered.

Someone’s breath washing warm over your face, the glimpse of him bare from the waist up, your favorite mole, the shower water pounding over pink skin, his name in your mouth—

And it became clear why he wasn’t saying anything.

Because he knew what you’d done.

And you knew he knew.

And he knew that you knew he knew.

It felt horribly awkward breaking the stillness of the room, so you didn’t move from the bed. Just sat up, letting the covers pool in your lap as the fruit slowly rotted and neither of you spoke a word. Once you thought he might have glanced at you from the corner of your eye, but when you turned, he quickly looked back down at the glowing screen in his lap.

Eventually, you’d had enough. Throwing the sheets off your bare legs, you climbed out of bed and padded quietly into the refresher. You shut the door with a click and heard the immediate shuffling of fabric from outside. Soft footsteps and the sound of pouring liquid filtered in from the main room, but the extra clink of a spoon stirring or the dripping of cream was decidedly absent.

He drank it black, then.

The thought settled heavily in you.

Your reflection in the mirror was pitiable, puffy, tired eyes staring back at you blankly. You ran the water, splashing some on your face and tried not to think about what you’d ‘seen’ the Commander do in the shower behind you last night.

But one look at the slate gray tiles had images of his hand curling against them, the other wrapped around—

You buried your face in one of the hand towels and groaned into it. Was he staring at your empty bed and thinking the same thing? Were scenes of you writhing on the sheets playing themselves on loop in the Commander’s head? Could he feel the lingering want for him in the air around you?

Outside the door, you heard something that sounded suspiciously like Ren choking on his coffee.

Staring down into the basin, you felt a terrible realization cresting over the horizon. He knew about last night—that was a given. You had heard him, seen him, felt him in some ethereal way you could not explain. He’d been in you too, a presence in your head, an audience to all that you thought of him.

But was that really the first time?

Because—now that you thought about it, really stopped and breathed it all in—the empty, lonely, half-filled and never completed feeling that sat deeply in your bones was only ever gone when he touched you—only ever relieved when he visited you in your sleep.

And you had been blessedly free of it last night, when you lay breathless and trembling with a pleasure that did not belong to you.

In fact, you did not feel it even now.

You thought of his face. Too identical, every mole and freckle right down to your favorite of them in the same place. The same eyes, same angle of his teeth, same ears just a bit too big and hair that fell in his face. The same baby curls by the crown of his head.

It was simply impossible for your mind alone to have crafted such a perfect replica.

There was no denying it.

And it was only now dawning on you—that, in fact, it had always been him.

The Commander Ren who drank black coffee and did everything in his power to enrage you at a moment's notice was one and the same with the Kylo who had plagued your mind for months. Whom you had not so secretly craved like he was ambrosia and you, a starving mortal at his feet.

Your breath shook as it filled your lungs and clawed its way back out like the secret of it was trying to burst free from its prison in your ribcage.

Outside, the Commander was moving again, and you listened, feeling the pull in each step—like he was walking through honey.

The soft swish of his pants was the only sound apart from your shallow breathing. There was something alive in the air and it was waiting.

The shadow of his feet came to a halt outside the door and you heard the soft thump of his hand resting against it. You were compelled by a force—the Force maybe—some unknowable tugging in your veins. Your feet found their way to stand toe to toe, palm to palm with Kylo Ren, nothing but the thin wood of the door between you.

There was a stillness settling in the room, and when you closed your eyes, you could see it.

He was there, clear as the void of space and twice as lovely—standing, staring through the barrier between your bodies. And you felt him see you too. Felt yourself full to the brim and fantastically whole.

You wanted to touch him.

Needed to touch him.

And you knew he would let you.

Because he always had before and you couldn’t stop your hand from pushing against the wood, prying it away to reveal Kylo, your Kylo, your Commander to you and then—

Then it all shattered.

The door between you was flung nearly off its tracks as someone rapped twice loudly from the hall. You barely had time to register the awful sinking sensation, like a knife carving you in two as the Commander met your eyes for the first time that morning and you felt nothing.

The knocking came again and you gazed at him frantically.

“Get in,” you hissed under your breath.

He stared at you with his pretty brown eyes, frowning like he always did. The man before you was simply your uncooperative Commander who could do nothing but cause unnecessary inconvenience. There was no more glimmer in his gaze to tell you the last few minutes hadn’t been just another dream.

Your eye twitched as you stepped out past him and gestured towards the empty space left behind.

“I’m sorry, would you like to be found out?”

The tapping on the door repeated itself and you pointed harshly at the bathroom until he finally slipped inside, knocking his shoulder into you as he went. You shut the door a little harder than strictly necessary.

A familiar voice called to you from outside.

“Miss Negotiator?”

When you’d opened the door, Lem Alba was standing in the hall just outside. In his hand he held a small package.

You apologized politely, “I was just about to get in the shower.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “I won’t keep you too long then, just came to deliver this and to let you know that Representative Gahl has invited you to travel with his personal security team tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, right,” you tried not to sound disappointed that he hadn’t forgotten your conversation, and took the parcel from his hand.

It wasn’t that the gesture was entirely unusual, but Gahl didn’t exactly strike you as someone important enough to warrant a whole team of guards. You thought anxiously of Atreus.

An example.

“Why with his personal team, may I ask?”

“Well, I probably shouldn’t tell you this” Lem looked up and down the hall before leaning in conspiratorially, “but one of the staff was found dead a few hours ago, so we’re increasing protection to some of the more high ranking individuals.”

The shock on your face was mostly genuine, “Shit, that’s horrible.”

Lem nodded and sighed, leaning up against the door frame, “Yes, well that’s what we’ve been dealing with all morning.”

You chuckled, “Don’t you just love doing jobs that aren’t yours?”

That’s why I’m here, you almost said but thought better of it. Something told you your audience wouldn’t appreciate the comment. The hard, invisible pinch on your thigh confirmed your suspicions.

“You got that right,” he mumbled and stood up straight. “And I should get back to it.”

“Of course,” you gave him a thin smile and moved to close the door but Lem’s hand caught it at the last second.

“Let me know,” he cleared his throat, “if that’s not the right fit. I can have another sent up.”

Glancing down at the package in your hand, you felt your face grow hot, “I will.”

You meant to shut the door quietly, Lem still smiling at you from the other side, but the knob was ripped from your hand and it slammed closed with a bang. After a few seconds you heard the bathroom door slide open revealing Kylo Ren, taking up the entire archway.

His size might have intimidated you if you hadn’t been so angry.

“Care to explain yourself, sir?” you’d asked, all mercy and craving for him dying away as he stared at you blankly, jaw set on edge. It really was so amazing how this man could flip your moods like a switch. Night and day. Your hatred of him was forever inevitable.

“I should ask you the same, officer.”

Outwardly he looked unfazed, eyes flicking to the package in your hand, but you’d seen him like this back on the Finalizer. The eerie calm before he snapped like a bowstring and left destruction in his wake. Before the bodies of officers who wronged him littered the floor and you were left to clean up the rubble.

You were walking on thin ice and it was cracking.

You took another step.

“If you’re insinuating that I’m the one jeopardizing our position here, then you are sorely mistaken,” your voice came out in a harsh whisper and grated your throat.

The coffee cup on the nightstand rattled.

“Remind me,” he took a menacing step towards you, “who here was it that agreed to leave the district with a group plotting against the Order?”

You met him head on, “I’m sorry you’re so woefully ignorant of diplomatic proceedings, but it wasn't exactly as if I had a choice.”

Cracks skittered up the porcelain as Kylo’s hands flexed, curling into fists at his sides. A rush of slick warmth flooded you at the sight. You tried to beat down the rising wave of sick arousal, but truly you couldn’t help it. Not when he looked at you with those pretty eyes blown wide and black with some dangerous suggestions. Not when his fingers were biting into his palms and you were imagining the marks they could leave on you.

“Watch your mouth,” he gritted out each word, perfect teeth flashing behind his pink lips.

You didn’t.

“At least I know not to leave a body for them to find!”

The slight twitch of his eye was the only warning you got before the cup across the room splintered. Shards sharp as knives exploded out in an arch catching on your clothes and littering the rug. In the same split second Kylo Ren pounced like a predator on the hunt. His fist connected with the wall next to your head, dusting the side of your face with paint chips as it crumpled under his hand.

You stared, gaze flicking between his shaking arm sticking out of the newly formed hole in your wall and his wild eyes—feral, lovely.

For a minute, neither of you moved, just stood breathing each other's breaths and waiting. Again, he was only inches from you and you wished that you’d gotten to glimpse him before. That you could have slid the barrier between you aside and seen him soft and melting instead of untamed and steel hardened.

But it seemed neither of you could let go of this savage security blanket of rage for each other.

And if this was the closest to him you could get, that would have to be enough.

You felt yourself draining, deflating, shrinking and cast your eyes down in surrender. Kylo pushed off the wall a second later, turning his back to you and burying his hands in his hair. He folded onto the sofa, legs spread and elbows on his knees.

You’d seen him like this in a dream once, held his face in your hands and begged for him to take you.

His eyes flicked to you still standing against the wall.

“You’ve done this before,” he mumbled into his palms.

You gaped.

“Um, could be more specific, sir?”

The look that comment elicited nearly turned you to stone.

“Oh, if you’re talking about the strategic murder of political elites,” you let out an uneasy laugh and moved to perch on the edge of the bed, “then yes, I’ve arranged them.”

You weren’t exactly proud of that, but it came with the job description. Par for the course as they say.

It was a dirty thing to do in the world of politics, and you felt much more satisfied when you had properly manipulated your opponent into submission rather than just killing them off. Your throat began to grow tight at the thought of yourself, shot in the back walking away from the mediation table. Just like the man who had this job before you.

Everything in the First Order came stained with blood and you were being called to pay the piper.

What goes around comes around...as they say.

“And?” his short tone brought you out of your stupor.

You furrowed your brow, “Commander, are you asking me how I’d plot my own kidnapping and murder?”

He waved his hand for you to continue as if it was the most natural thing in the world to be asking. You supposed, in this world it was.

“Alright then,” you sighed and flopped back on the mattress. “I would do it somewhere big, somewhere with an audience so the message gets across. Instill fear and go out with a bang.”

Kylo’s head shot up, “They're planning on broadcasting the campaign announcement and the Order’s endorsement.”

“What?” you lifted your head off the pillows. “Did the dead body tell you that?”

“He wasn’t dead at the time,” Ren clapped back and pushed himself up in one smooth motion.

He reached for his helmet sitting by the arm of the couch and slipped it over his head without a word. You watched him replace his layers, clipping the large belt in place and tugging on his boots.

“Well, if I was going to kill me that’s when I’d do it,” you said, rolling on your side to watch him tighten the laces.

Kylo didn’t say anything to that. Just stood and marched his way past the hole in the wall and stopped by the door.

“Don’t—”

“Leave this room,” you interrupted. “I know.”

The Commander huffed once, nothing more than an exhale of static and let the door click shut behind him.

***

That was almost two days ago, and you hadn’t seen him since.

Well, he’d certainly been there—the warm spot on your bed told you as much—but he was gone by morning and you’d left with the Representative and his team not long after.

Currently, you were lounging in one of the large, soft chairs on your private balcony watching the waves and enjoying your first moments alone since arriving at the villa. Most of the day had been filled with hours upon hours of dull discussions where no one really wanted to hear what you had to say, but expected you to say something anyway. Finally, you’d been able to slip out while the rest of the staff sat down for drinks in the drawing room.

The sound of the sea drifted up from the shore and settled around you, blanketing the small deck in a layer of artificial calm. The sun had begun its descent, and the water glimmered golden in it’s dying light.

Now, there was just you and the ocean and your thoughts.

Which, if you were honest with yourself, wasn’t that much of an improvement.

Because you were thinking of him.

Because that’s all you ever did anymore.

Thinking of how you wished he was here and how you never wanted to face him again. Thinking of how you wished everything was simpler.

And how you didn’t wish that at all.

It was true, at first Kylo Ren had been nothing to you. His existence was more of a myth, a legend that you heard whispered, but was easy to disbelieve. How could a man like that exist, you’d thought. People didn’t live off of blood and waves of rotting bodies, they didn’t feed on power or bend the very fabric of the universe to their will.

But they did drink coffee, and brush their teeth, and sleep beside you when they thought you wouldn’t remember. Real people tied their shoes and put holes in your wall when you talked out of turn.

You thought of your first dreams of him, when Kylo was still soft and kind and not wholly himself—warm and gentle and lacking. You thought of him filling out around the edges, becoming clearer and sharper in words and reality. You thought of him cursing you, of holding his touch hostage and making you come apart cruelly empty of his skin. It was as if you were summoning something old and dark, drawing him more completely to you with each ritual. Everytime you came with his name in your mouth, another hook sunk and dragged him in.

As if whatever had placed him there had taken its time, pulling pieces of him into your head until even when you were conscious, it was impossible to keep him from slipping into the forefront of your mind.

And now that you’d been given a taste of it—of relief from the awful pit that drained you dry and was never satisfied—you were shaking again, ravenous like a starved animal with the loss.

You got the distinct feeling there would always be something standing in between you and the Commander. Always something, always something, always something keeping you just a hair's breadth apart—making sure your palms never quite touched.

It wasn’t enough to just hate him anymore, to feel your bones shake with the need to make him feel the same pain he inflicted on you.

In your desperate attempt to craft something to fill the void in your small existence, Kylo Ren had become the tendons and threads which knitted you together into one, cohesive whole.

You needed all of him, unencumbered, uninterrupted, raw and real with his teeth sunk into you.

And really, how wrong was that?

Well, you knew the answer was most likely very wrong. But there was a reason you were good at your job and it wasn’t because you were in possession of a perfectly functioning code of ethics.

You breathed in the salt spray off the sea and let it coat your lungs. The crashing of the waves rumbled in your chest like a drum beat, steady, sure, and comforting. No matter what, there would always be other worlds, other oceans, other lives that kept going even when yours did not.

You were falling asleep, eyelids heavy and dropping every few seconds.

And soon, you would dream.

***

He was standing at the end of a dark hallway, just barely silhouetted by the strips of moonlight filtering through the windows. His back was to you, so you called his name softly. When he turned, his face was blessedly bare and pale and shocked.

“What are you doing here?” Kylo hissed.

You stared in confusion as he moved swiftly down the hall, grabbing your arm and tugging until you stumbled behind him into a side passage.

The second he stopped you wrenched your hand from his grasp.

“What are you talking about?” you snapped and he whirled on you, massive, gloved hand clamping down over your mouth.

“Keep your voice down,” he said, caging you against the wall.

The tip of his nose brushed against yours as he spoke. Your cries of protest were muffled by the soft leather, its smoke stained taste invading your tongue when you tried to speak. Shaking your head in his grasp, you manueved one of his fingers between your lips and bit down, hard. The fabric caught on your teeth as he ripped his hand away and cursed.

“Fuck, you—!” a small trickle of blood dripped from the hole in his glove where your teeth had torn at the flesh. His eyes were venomous, “I told you not to leave your room.”

“I didn’t—” you were cut off abruptly as voices began to echo down the abandoned corridor.

You both stared wide eyed at each other as the sound of footsteps approaching grew louder. Quickly, he stepped forward, pressing both your bodies flat against the wall. You didn’t dare breathe as two figures passed by your hiding spot in the shadows and entered the door at the end of the hall.

Kylo was so close you could see his throat move as he swallowed, his chest right up against your face, the scent of him washing over you. Something hard was pressing into your thigh. You convinced yourself it was just his saber, despite the warm pulsing you felt every time you twitched against him.

He was looking down at you, lips parted as though he might speak, but the voices filtering out from under the door drowned anything he might have said.

“Representative, we can’t be too hasty.”

Each word dripped down your spine leaving a viscous and greasy trail. You knew that voice.

An example.

But why would you be dreaming about Gahl and his so-called advisor?

“You aren’t dreaming,” Kylo whispered, exasperation clear as he spoke. His eyes bored into you, leaving behind painful trails wherever they darted across your skin. “Now shut your mouth before you get us caught.”

His hand found your mouth again, his fingers prying it open and pressing hard down on your tongue. You gagged around them, the iron of his blood coating your teeth as he pulled harshly down on your jaw. It ached and popped but no sound escaped.

You’d read somewhere before that you can’t feel pain in your dreams, but you certainly felt that.

He was right. Not a dream then.

You swallowed around Kylo’s fingers, hints of metal and smokey leather dripping down your throat. His eyes were fixed on your lips as they stretched around him. The warm, hard presence at your thigh ground into you by an almost imperceptible inch.

“You said if we took the girl, he’d come.”

It was Gahl this time, his voice rougher around the edges with age. You found yourself letting your hips curiously rock up just a hair while you listened for the slight hitch in the Commander’s breath you knew so well.

Your heart nearly stopped at the sound—not his saber.

“Ren will come sir,” Atreus purred. “I’m sure of it.”

“How can you be so sure?” Gahl sounded unconvinced.

You sucked lightly, letting your tongue trace a slow line in the gap between Kylo’s fingers. He growled low into your ear, “Behave.”

Yeah, you thought, it’s really gonna be me who gives us away.

“I saw it sir, when he was here before, the girl was in his head.”

That gave you pause, and you narrowed your eyes searching his face for any reaction. He remained blank but for the slight crease in his brow, and the shaking of his breath. Your mind raced at the implication. You’d certainly been aware that the Commander was constantly in your head, but you were almost entirely sure Kylo Ren hadn’t given you a second thought until very recently.

“I still don’t understand what is so remarkable about that woman,” Gahl grumbled from behind the door.

Well you certainly weren’t going to argue with him on that, although it felt a little unnecessary to keep bringing up just how expendable you were.

“I can’t explain it either sir, but he’ll come for her. And if he doesn’t, her death will prove to be more than motivating enough to draw him in.”

You felt like gagging at every word leaving that man's mouth. Kylo’s fingers in your mouth turned sour the longer you listened.

“You had better not be wrong, Atreus,” Gahl warned, his tone darker and sharper than you’d ever heard from the old man. “I want that masked idiot dead and the First Order at my feet by the end of this election cycle.”

Every muscle in your body was tensed, clenched and pulled taught like a coil, your jaw clicked as you worked against the intrusion in your mouth. Suddenly the scent of him was too much—the air hanging heavy in your lungs and never quite exhaling fully.

Gods, Kylo Ren really was the source of all your turmoil.

Your tongue and teeth and lips pushed and bit against his fingers until he finally pulled them from your mouth.

You were going to die here—you were going to die here and it wouldn’t mean anything. They were right, you were unimportant and your death would be nothing more than a blip in the First Order’s radar. And somehow Kylo Ren had managed to put you right in the middle of the crossfire.

You needed to get away, couldn’t bear to hear whatever came next.

“Get off me,” you hissed, wrestling against his hands trying to keep you in place.

“Stay still—” His voice was sandpaper on your skin and you needed to leave, had to leave, had to get as far away as possible—

“I said,” you managed to position your hands squarely on his chest and shoved with a surprising amount of force, “get off me!”

Kylo Ren stumbled, actually stumbled back and stared at you with an awful, bitter cocktail of shock and anger and something else you didn’t have the time or patience to place. Father down the hall, a door was opening and voices approached from the hall.

Everything faded to black far before you ever heard what they said.

***

You were on your feet before you could even open your eyes.

The sea was calling and you were going to listen, the small stones of the shoreline sinking between your toes as you rushed down the small path from your room. Waves were crashing in pairs when you finally made it to the water's edge, stripping your evening clothes off piece by piece like shedding skin, needing to be free.

Free of nothing.

Free of everything.

The salt spray churned and rolled over your ankles and calves as you waded out into the sea. Something was pulling you, stronger than the currents, tugging you out into deeper water and you let it until your head sank below the surface and the sound of muted thunder waves roiling was a cacophony in your head.

You were drifting, mind and body being tossed about.

Confused—reality doesn’t have a clear border anymore and you couldn’t be sure what had happened and what hadn't, what should have happened but didn’t.

Scared—you didn’t want to die, it wasn’t something you’d thought of before despite the nature of your employment, but you realized now that it was never your strength or wit keeping you alive, just luck.

Angry—boiling inside at the thought of your unshakeable insignificance.

Angry—unwilling to die over the wounded pride of men who constantly underestimated you.

Angry—at yourself for inexplicably wanting one of them anyway.

You let out your breath and screamed. Let the bubbles leave your mouth in a rush of air and pent up frustrations. The rumbling shock of diluted sound waves reverberated in your chest. You shrieked until your ears popped and your lungs were empty and water rushed to fill the vacuum left behind.

And for a few moments, when nothing remained inside you and the world was in a strange, unbalanced limbo, you felt it. Inside that crater within your soul that wept and lamented its lacking, there was a spark. Something bright and firecracker red like a lost ember which had forgotten the fire of its youth.

And you knew what you needed to do to feed it, to let it burn, to fill yourself to the brim and overflow with totality.

Your head broke the surface like an eggshell, water streaming into your eyes as you gasped in lungfuls of wind off the sea. Someone was shouting for you. Far on the shoreline, a massive black silhouette stood bathed in starshine and the moon.

It took a moment for you to realize he was yelling at you.

“What are you doing?!”

His voice barely carried over the rushing water and the sound of your arms splashing to keep you afloat.

“None of your business,” you called, turning to swim farther out into the depths.

You could hear his frustrated shout as the waves kicked up over his boots.

“Get back here,” he snarled.

You weren’t able to make out his face, but you were sure his lips were pulled back, bearing crooked teeth ready to rip your throat out.

He might do just that with a little coaxing. That was fine with you. Your anger was one meant to be shared.

“Make me.”

You could feel him snapping even as you drifted deeper out to sea. He was fraying, about to break and you wanted it. Wanted him drowning in the same turmoil as you.

“You want me to make you?” he was raging now, hands tearing at his clothes, “You want me to fucking make you?”

You watched as he was revealed to you and tumbled into the surf, incoherent fury sapping all the grace from his steps—demise personified parting the waters.

The moon glinted off Kylo’s skin and he practically glowed with it. In spite of yourself, you thought he looked every bit a prince, so painfully handsome in his own, strange way–inimitable and all the more lovely for it. Inky black water swirled and the breakers crashed against the bare expanse of his chest, like the sea itself was desperate to steal a taste of him.

Something within you–scarlet and glimmering–stirred.

Something that ached.

Something that yearned.

Something hungry.

You watched him wade towards where you were floating, felt the current shift and draw you to him like a sinking ship. In his eyes you saw that same spark, red and crackling and alive. There was a beast in his bones and it smiled.

And you knew, you would let it take you.

But not without a fight.

You kicked and struggled against the Force pulling you to him, not certain if he was the one controlling it or if it had its own mind and movement. But it was a futile effort either way. He was on you in seconds, fingers like claws grasping your ankle and ripping you through the water to him.

He growled and grabbed a fistful of your hair, dragging your head underwater without warning. But you flailed and felt your foot connect with the hard plane of his stomach and his grip on you slipped.

“This is your fault,” you screeched when you came up again.

He was heavier than you, larger and sunk faster in the deep water. You maneuvered your hands into his hair as well while he tried to stay above the surface and yanked him down—shouts turned to bubbles—until he raked his nails across your bare chest and the sharp pain made you let go.

Kylo’s head connected with your jaw as he came spluttering to the surface and your mouth flooded with the metallic taste of blood. It dripped from your lips in a stream and you spat out a mess of red stained sea water, watching it splattered over his handsome face in rivulets.

“You brought this on yourself, you arrogant little slut,” he roared, shaking your shoulders in his hands until the back of your hand cracked across his face.

“I’m the slut?!” you shrieked. “You can’t even be in the same room with me without your dick getting hard!”

He was right now too, you could feel the prominent, warm pressure of his cock slotted against your stomach. And whether or not there was a heat building between your thighs at the thought of it was neither here nor there.

Blood still dripped down your chin as you both ripped at each other's hair, slippery with sea salt and plastered to your skulls.

“You think I can’t hear you begging for me,” his face is so close you can see all the hairline scars that ran through it, connecting the dots between his freckles.

Your nose brushed against his, “I’m not the one avoiding the subject!”

His knee slipped hard into the space between your legs and you yelped.

“You have no idea what’s at stake here,” he gritted through his teeth.

“My life, asshole,” you bristled. “I’m gonna die here trying to fix the mess you started!”

Neither of you spoke after the words died on your lips, just floating and gasping with the exertion of staying afloat. In the following silence, with the adrenaline pounding behind your ears, Kylo’s eyes were locked onto yours—black pools like the dark water.

Seconds passed and you let whatever dying flame was inside your chest grow until its heat under your skin was blistering and driving you forward into the only thing that would offer any relief.

Kylo’s lips were plump and soft under yours as they crashed together, your teeth clacking with the impact. It didn’t matter, not when his tongue licking into your mouth was the most soothing sensation you’d ever felt.

His hands were frantic, grabbing fistfuls of your flesh and pulling you as close to him as possible, leaving no inch of skin untouched. Your legs wound around his hips, locking ankles just above the lovely curve of his ass. He groaned into your lips and you felt it in your bones.

Tell me, he spoke in your head, and it felt as though he had always belonged there.

Your ribs were cracking open to let him spill in, to fill in all the holes that riddled you.

Tell me, he repeated again and it sounded like praying.

His teeth caught your lip, sucking blood into his mouth so you could be inside him too. And he was so hot against you, all pale naked and sinful. You’d never realized someone could feel so solid, so painfully real and not just a trick of the light in your mind. Arms of pure, corded muscle locked around your back and crushed you to him as his feet found purchase on the soft sand.

The sea was spitting you back onto the shoreline, waves crashing over your entangled limbs. It was no longer clear where you ended and Kylo began.

It was not close enough.

Kylo, you whimpered hoping the connection went both ways and he would hear you too.

I’m here, you felt the pebbles of the beach kick up as he stood out of the surf and walked you up the beach. I’m here, tell me.

His mouth never ceased to move against yours, biting, sucking, drinking you down to soothe the burn of the salt. Between your bodies, his cock was twitching. And now that you were blessedly free of the water, you could feel yourself dripping with need for him.

You’d been this close once before, but it hadn’t felt anything like this.

Kylo walked you up the beach, kneeling down in front of his pile of discarded clothes and landing in a heap on top of you. He ground his hips down, the tip of his length catching on your clit. The sound you made was inhuman, pure desire.

The rocks of the beach bit into your back through his cloak, but you hardly noticed when his lips wandered down your neck. He growled and sunk his teeth into the flesh between your shoulder and neck, sucking a mark into your skin you would never be able to hide.

You reared up, ready to paint more bruises on his skin when a hand closed around your throat and slammed you back into the earth.

Tell me or you can’t touch, he groaned.

You huffed and whined when he pinned your wrists in one hand above your head. No matter how hard you pulled, you couldn’t break his grip and you knew before he must have been letting you hit and kick and scratch at him. Must have liked it.

You squirmed at the thought.

His lips ghosted over your collarbone, other hand skimming up to palm at your breasts. Kylo’s mouth closed over a nipple, rolling it on his tongue and nipping when you bucked your hips into him.

You watched him lap at your skin, loving the wet streaks he left behind.

I hate you, you shot back.

He smirked against your chest and moved on to torment your other breast, all the while grinding his cock between your soaked lips, coating himself in you.

Lying won’t get you anywhere, he punctuated the statement with a particularly hard thrust over your clit.

The slide of it was delicious and maddening and you needed more.

I’m not lying, you said, although the string of moans leaving your mouth when he circled the tip of his dick over your entrance was not at all convincing.He pushed in just barely, never hard enough to actually grant you any relief.

I know a lie when I hear one, his voice was velvet and it was driving you off the edge.

But you would fight till the very end. It was one of your few redeeming qualities.

Fuck you.

That’s a bit more accurate, yes.

He chuckled darkly resting his head on your sternum so he could watch as you helplessly rolled your hips while his cock remained frustratingly not in your pussy.

Fine, you signed and he flicked his eyes back to your face.

Kylo’s movements stilled and he pulled his hands back, leaning down to rest on his elbows above you. Some of his pretty sea-curled hair tickled your nose.

“II wantwant youyou,” you whispered feeling it echo through whatever presence was allowing you to transfer your thoughts without really speaking.

His breath hitched in that beautiful way that you loved.

And then you were screaming—really truly screaming—his hand clamping down on your mouth to stifle the noise.

But the wave of otherworldly pleasure and searing pain that washed over you when he thrust his hips, cock sinking into your cunt to the hilt in one swift motion was entirely too much bare.

Though, Kylo was not faring much better. His face fell into the crook of your neck and he groaned into the skin. He didn’t move for a few moments, and you felt your walls tighten around him. He was massive, you’d known that, but never had you expected to feel so full.

You cared very little then, about whether or not you were going to die on this godforsaken planet, not if he could fuck you like this. Not if you got to feel Kylo Ren in every conceivable part of your body.

He let out a shaky breath into your neck and pulled himself up.

“I’m going to ruin you,” he gasped, drawing his cock out of you until only the tip remained sheathed in your warmth. “Ruin this pretty little pussy for anyone else.”

Kylo slammed back into you, making your tits bounce as his hips slapped against your ass. You knew he was right. There would be no coming back from this—for him or you.

“No one will ever feel like I do,” you retorted, clenching harder around him as he worked up a steady rhythm.

You watched the muscles in his abdomen twitch as you tightened yourself and he reared back on his knees, grabbing your waist with his massive hands and hoisting your lower body off the ground.

The new angle stretched you even more and every thrust caught that elusive spot inside you that had your thighs trying to snap shut against his hips.

“Fuck, Kylo!” you cried, as shameless as always.

“What?” he grunted. “You want it harder? Want me deeper?”

“Yesyesyesyesyes,” you babbled, needing anything he would give you.

Kylo delivered on your request. You felt him in your stomach, each thrust was quick and sharp and angled just right and you had never felt anything like you did now.

He was in your head still, his presence was warm and glowed a dim, sultry red that made your mind hazy—illuminated parts of yourself you’d thought were forgotten. Passion, that’s what he felt like, deep and forbidden. Delicious truth.

“You keep saying you aren’t a whore, but look how well you’re taking my cock,” Kylo mused.

You knew you were in his head too, could feel yourself leaking in through the cracks. He was thinking about how magnificent your pussy felt swallowing his length, how badly he wanted to cum in you, claim you and make you keep his release inside.

There was fear there too.

Longing and something darker.

You wanted to take it away.

“Only for you,” you muttered between thrusts, crying out when the Force loosed it tendrils over your skin. A shapeless finger rolled and teased your clit while two others kneaded at your chest.

“You’re a whore just for me?” he was coming unhinged, you could sense it in the way his cock was pulsing in you.

You nodded, bringing a hand to rest over his on your waist.

“Good girl.”

He threw his head back, and you admired the lovely angle of his throat against the night sky. The Force on your clit was unrelenting and you wouldn’t last much longer, the tight coil of pleasure was building in your gut and spreading through your veins like quicksilver.

“Kylo, I’m gonna—” you were cut off by his hand grabbing you by the hair and crushing you up into his chest.

He sat your ass on his knees and lifted you up, dragging you back down onto his cock. You were like a rag doll in his hands as he wrapped his arms around your back and slammed you down. There was no space left between your bodies, nothing but the slide of your sweat slicked skin and his breath on your face.

Even surrounded by the scent of sex and the sea you could still smell fresh mint lingering on his tongue.

That might have been what finally sent you toppling over the edge. Or maybe it was the look on his face—brows furrowed and lips parted in a pleasure only you could bring him. Or maybe it was just the finality of it all.

That Kylo Ren was unequivocally and irreparably linked to you now in some way. Be it through the blood in your mouths or his cock painting your insides with cum as you sobbed and clenched around him, circling in a feedback loop of each other’s orgasm. He was panting in your ear, spewing curses you couldn’t comprehend and fucking you through your release and his.

This was something bigger than it seemed, you knew it when you heard him grunt your name while his mouth latched back on to the mark on your neck. Knew it when the glowing red presence in your head didn’t fade and the empty feeling you’d called friend all these years didn’t return.

Knew it when he let you stay wrapped in his arms for a few precious seconds, his softening length still filling you with its pleasant, stinging warmth.

Knew it when you felt the softest press of his lips to your neck when he lifted his head and pressed yours to his chest with a massive hand.

His heart beat steadily under all the bone and sinew.

It wasn’t until then that you became consciously aware he had one.

“You aren’t going to die,” he whispered.

And you wished you could believe him. Almost said so, but the words never came out, got lost somewhere in between your lips and how his skin was so much softer than you ever imagined it would be. Then he was pressing two fingers to your temple, a wave of unwilling sleep falling over you in a lovely, red blanket.

And this time, you didn’t dream.

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

Taglist lovelies:

@thewilddingleberries @contesa-lui-alucard @obsessionprofessional @kit-jpg @findyourdarkness

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagines #kylo ren x female reader #not canon compliant #star wars #reader insert #star wars sequel fic #kylo smut #kylo ren smut #dr. b writes

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marcipancake · 4 years

Text

I hate you! ....but not that much

Summary: Miya Atsumu realises how much he loves his boyfriend when it's too late

Warnings: blood, fight, hospitals, open ending

“I hate you, Miya!” Sakusa panted from the fight, and even the other could feel the tiredness radiating from his form. His eyes were diluted but kept their focus. His voice was cracking all over his shouted sentences, slowly getting hoarse.

"I didn't force you to be in a relationship with me, for fuck's sake! If you hate it that much, why don't you just turn your back on me like you do with all your problems and walk away?" Atsumu asked, seeming much more collected than his boyfriend. He wasn’t short on his breath, nor did he care for what left his mouth.

"Maybe that's what I should have done from the start. I should have rejected your pathetic ass confession you could barely even say and treat you like the person you are" the spiker grabbed a vase from the coffee table—one that was a gift from his mom—and threw it at Atsumu, who didn’t even try to dodge it. He just let it break on his chest and fall to the ground, not taking his rage-filled eyes off of Sakusa.

"What was that? The Almighty Sakusa Kiyoomi feeling sorry for someone? Feeling pity? Or even feeling anything??" Atsumu in return sent a mug flying. It barely missed the targeted head, as Sakusa caught it. And also broke it with a shaky fist.

"Me, the Almighty? I'm not the one going around saying how fucking perfect I am and how everyone who is slightly feeling tired or not always giving their 200% can lick dirt and fuck off!" a pair of mole spotted hands took off, and for a moment Atsumu thought he was going to get hit. But instead, Sakusa only grabbed his collar, shaking him by it with every word he spat out.

"Because you never go around and you never say anything unless it's to make fun of me or hurt me!" the blonde grabbed onto his hands. They felt ice cold against his hot, burning hands. He took a step forward, forcing the other to retreat, barely not stumbling on his own legs.

"Why, how else am I supposed to act? Just stand there and silently endure the way you talk to me?" Sakusa suddenly threw his hands in the air, catching his lover off guard, thus being able to push him to the ground.

"Endure? Endure what exactly?” the setter jumped up at this as if nothing had happened. Sakusa raised his hands, maybe in defence, but the other hit them both away, fuming. “Me accumulating to you and changing myself in a way you would maybe like me? Is it that hard the big Sakusa Kiyoomi can't handle?"

"So this is all it was about?” a cruel grin appeared on Sakusa’s face, making him look like a distorted version of himself. “Shaping yourself so you would be loved by someone? And what made you pick me? I seemed the easiest target? Or you missing your brother and wanting someone else to replace him in your heart?"

"At least I have a heart!!"

Tick.

And tock.

Breathing in.

And breathing out.

Sakusa let the other go slowly and Atsumu did so, too. He was still filled with rage, but the pair of dark eyes didn't match the fire burning. He stepped away and started his way to the door, only grabbing his keys on the way.

"Don't you dare, Kiyoomi! Don't you dare walk out on me like that!" another plate went flying across the room, only to meet its end on the broad back of the spiker, already opening the door. Not even looking back, he walked out.

The heavy panting quickly turned into panic in Atsumu's lungs and ran after him after just a second of hesitation.

"Don't you come after me. Or that will be the last thing you do" the sharp voice of Sakusa cut both Atsumu's actions and heart in half, stopping him by the doorway as he continued his way to the car in the pouring rain.

"You know what? Then don't even come back!" Atsumu shouted back at him, but he didn't seem phased by what he said. He just watched as his boyfriend— was he even still in a relationship with him? —drove away, still panting from all the emotions.

He slowly closed the door after himself and collapsed to the floor. He angrily ran his fingers through his already messy hair.

"Shit."

But he couldn't take back what he said. Even if once he did mean them. And now he had to wait it out until Sakusa calmed himself down and—hopefully—came back.

As he looked around in the house, it was a mess. And not just the usual mess with clothes all over. No, it was as if a tornado went loose inside, destroying everything in its path. But, Atsumu realised, that's exactly what happened. They started as a small and harmless rain with their usual bantering about some leftover crumbs on the counter. His own quickly angered and kind of a hothead nature that collided with the coldness of Sakusa quickly grew into a heavy storm that went havoc spiralling more and more out of control with every word said—or later shouted. Not even the room could escape something like this. Broken mugs, plates and glasses everywhere, the dining table pushed aside and the dinner from it now on the floor, their pictures poking out from under the broken frames, as if reminding the setter of the happy and carefree past they just shattered.

Atsumu tried to stand up to clean up at least a bit, but he slipped on something on the floor. It was a blood wetted piece of cloth. As the setter raised it to take a look at it, he recognised it as being Sakusa's sock. He stepped into a broken plate and took the sock off when the wetness of the blood annoyed him.

The voice of him saying 'I hate you, Miya' haunted him even when he managed to get up from the floor. The utmost confidence and hatred that radiated from his words through the whole fight really made Atsumu wonder if he meant any words he said. He only called him Miya on two occasions. When playfully and harmlessly teasing each other or when he was mad.

He brought the sock to the bathroom, along with the torn apart pillows and blankets, putting them in the laundry basket. It was almost full. He should also put some clothes to wash… but he had more urgent things to take care of now. At least only the living room and the kitchen was destroyed.

Somewhere along the lines, his vision got blurred so much that he couldn't even point out which direction he was facing. As he raised his hands to touch his eyes, fat teardrops met their ends on his shirt, pants and the floor as they raced down on his cheeks. And at this, his vision also cleared. Just enough to be able to make out the broken mug he threw at Sakusa. It had smaller and bigger pieces of it around him. The first-ever really romantic gift he got from the other. The act itself still warmed his heart as he reached down for the biggest part remaining together. On that part was a picture of their hands entangled. The perfectly tended fingers of Atsumu with the long nails he kept short—possibly the only part of him that Sakusa wasn't disgusted by from the get-go—, together with the fragile-looking but firm fingers and bitten down nails of the spiker, dotted by moles he couldn't stop kissing.

It all felt so far away by now. Their lovely-dovey nature in their own unique way that started to drive everyone else up the wall seemed like a distant memory. Or rather, a fairy tale.

After long hours, Atsumu’s tears have finally come to completely dry out, leaving him gasping for air through frequent hiccups and with hurting eyes and lungs. Upon rising from the ground, his eyes scanned through the apartment in search of his partner, only giving a negative answer. Sakusa's been out for hours by now, and though normally Atsumu wasn't worried when the other was by the wheel, his calming down drive hasn't been this long. And he couldn't even ignore the growing pain of anxiety forming into a bigger and bigger ball of cramps in his upper belly, either.

He didn't have time to think about it for long, as soon their landline phone rang, and Atsumu jumped on it as foxes jump headfirst into the snow at the noise of a prey; precisely and deadly.

"Omi-kun! Where are yo-"

But his excited and relieved greeting was cut short, and the setter felt like he received a punch in his guts from a professional boxer. The caller was from a hospital, and Sakusa just got in the emergency room. She called only to inform, but Atsumu didn't need more. He thanked her as fast as he could, and not even bothering to close the door or to dress up, he ran out into the storm, all the way to the hospital. His lungs were burning, his legs on fire, the rapid rain cutting his open skin like knives, but he couldn't care less.

Upon arriving, soaking wet and panting as if he’s run a marathon, a nurse guided him to the room, telling him to wait until the doctors came out. Not really having a choice, he sat down. And tried his best not to think. Especially not remembering the pained and almost broken look of Sakusa had in the last moments before he drove off. Or his own rage-filled shape in the reflection of the darkest green eyes that were almost black. How the spiker's hands shook and then came to a halt as if he had a short circuit. In just a matter of seconds, he went from a fiery volcano that demolished everything in its past to the ice caps that though cold, they're also the ones being demolished. All because of a simple sentence he said. It was all his fault. If he didn't overstep the line, Sakusa wouldn't have gone out to drive in rage and he wouldn't be fighting for his life now and-

The doctors came out. Atsumu stood up alarmed. After a few exchanged words, they informed him of the situation and finally let him inside. He felt weak and unsure to his core, but he went inside.

Sakusa looked like a broken machine, laid upon a table to be repaired. Then cold, lifeless colour the lights painted on him only enhanced the ghost-like appearance as it mixed with the now pale complexion of the spiker. As Atsumu looked at him, his skin wasn't that much different in colour from the gauze they wrapped his injuries in. The huge sack that was hanging on his right, with the dim pee coloured liquid that slowly dropped into the tube that connected into his gauzed-over hand to keep the needle in place and the few more infusions that were here and there forced into him didn't make the setter feel relieved even if he should have been. According to the machine, his boyfriend was pretty much alive. And if he wouldn't have seen the state the other was in, it would have been enough for a celebration. But now, the barely visible breath and the other, more silent machine only reinforced in Atsumu what the doctors have already told him.

A coma. He entered a coma, and Atsumu was the sheer cause of it. No one told him that, of course, but no one needed to. He knew it deep down even if he didn't want to admit it. And now, not even his twin was there to help him snap out of this or to help him deal with it. Not even the ever-energetic team, not his own boyfriend. He was completely alone to carry the guilt and burden.

Atsumu couldn't bear it anymore. He basically collapsed onto the white chair beside the bed. The things he threw at the other, both physical and verbal things, came back to haunt him now. He thought his tears have all dried out, and yet, here he was, burying his face into his hands again.

"Fuck!" the setter sobbed through his hands before attempting to wipe his tears away. "Shit, I'm sorry, Omi" he tried again, still as weakly as before, and reached out for his hand. He couldn't really hold onto it because of the pulse oximeter but feeling his hand was enough. Even if said hands were cold, almost as if he was holding a statue.

Ah, maybe a statue would be more exact than a machine, Atsumu thought. The lifeless and cold grey that Sakusa's skin now had really did remind the setter of classical greek statues, all of which looked like they could start to move any second. But all he wanted now is for this statue to start moving. To hit him, to shout at him, to break up with him, to start crying, or even just to breathe more regularly. He would have even sold his soul for that if it were possible.

“Please, Omi” Atsumu begged again as he carefully brushed on the fragile fingers of his boyfriend, the way he always loved. “I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean all of what I said. You can just be really annoying. Don’t get me wrong, I am, too! It just-” he took a deep breath to calm his cracking up sobs before he would continue. “It’s been a rough week for the both of us.”

“Who am I kidding?!” the setter’s other hand gripped onto his own thigh, shaking in frustration. “I shouldn’t have been such an idiot! I should’ve given you your space and- I threw so many bad things, horrible things at you. Can you even forgive me?” he tried to put on a weak smile as his blurred vision wandered onto Sakusa’s face. “I can’t lose you. Please, I swear I’ll do better. I will do it. Just for you. Just please-” at this point, Atsumu gave up in trying to hold his tears back as he choked on his own words. He looked away from the ghost-like face of his love to wipe those annoying tears away before he rose his head back up.

“Just please, give me a sign” he begged with a stifled voice.

At that moment, the monitor changed.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#miya atsumu #sakusa kiyoomi #sakuatsu #haikyuu angst week #and also for my own heart #my works #my writing #u can also find it on ao3 if ya wanna leave a comment or smth #sorry in advance for the heartbreak qwp

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tickedpiggie · 6 years

Text

Chapter One: Birthday Parties

Jin stared into the mirror. There was something so off about his own reflection. He didn't look any different either. His broad shoulders were still prominent while his thin wrists were still pale. Jin poked at his crooked nose that had been broken many times in his adolescence. His face was still tan and the sun spots scattered along the bridge of his nose were still there and were still a few shades darker than his face. Jin poked at his hair, "It's still just as frizzy as it was yesterday," the young man leaned closer to the mirror that stood tall and proud against his wall. He bit his lower lip as his left eyebrow rose. Jin turned and quickly picked up a dark yellow t-shirt his friends had bought him for Father's Day last year. They were always so thankful to Jin for caring for each of them in their time of need. Jin smiled to himself as he slipped on the worn out shirt. His boxers hung loosely on his hip bones, just below the mole that rested against his left hip. There were small scars littered along his thin legs, gathering around his shins. He pulled thick, expensive brand name socks over his ankles before he struggled to pull on his too tight black skinny jeans.

` As Jin left his room, he grabbed his phone from the charger.

"We're all waiting for you at McDonald's," Jin read out loud from his notifications. A small boyish grin covered his usual emotionless face. As he slipped the cracked phone into his back pocket he checked his reflection once more. Jin twisted his loose curls that he could never tame. He huffed before giving up and quickly turning to open the door that lead to the rest of his empty apartment. Before he could touch the doorknob, Jin had clumsily slammed his toe into the small suitcase that made its home next to his mirror. The picture frame that held his favorite picture fell and broke into pieces as it hit the hardwood floor. "Dammit," his temper flared as he watched the pieces of glass scatter all over the floor. The thin man knelt down in order to clean the mess he made. His lower lip twitched as he grabbed each of the shards of glass. Jin began to rush as his phone vibrated in his pocket. "Jungkook" flashed across the screen multiple times as he continued to spam Jin's phone. As Jin swiftly tapped against the screen, his foot slipped and pressed against a sharper piece of glass. He flinched before lifting his foot only to see blood dripping from the sole of his sock. "I'm already fifteen minutes late, I'm sure they'll be fine for another ten," Jin sighed as he finished cleaning up the glass and placing the broken picture frame back onto the suitcase. He slipped off his bloody sock before wrapping his foot and applying a bit of healing ointment onto it. He opted for a pair of Nike slides instead of his usual pair of sneakers as it would be more comfortable for his injured foot. Grabbing his house keys and a pair of earbuds, Jin ran down the sidewalk and to the local fast food restaurant where his friends had patiently waited for the young man. While nearly sprinting down the dirty sidewalk of New York City, Jin stared down at his phone, desperately trying to reply to Jungkook as quickly as he could. The boy was kind hearted, but impatient. Yet today his continuous jabs at Jin would be the death of him. As Jin slowed down to a jog, he bumped into a woman holding what looked to be a pile of important papers in office-like manila folders. The loose papers slipped from her plump fingers. She let out a small gasp as her documents flew into the middle of the busy street. Jin could only give an apologetic stare before he started to run again. "Sorry! I swear if we run into each other again, I'll do you a favor," Jin shouted over his shoulder. He refused to be any later than twenty-five minutes late for Jungkook's 18th birthday. 'I'm finally turning into an adult so just don't blow me off like you did with everyone else,' Jungkook had begged him over the phone the night earlier. 'I promise I'll be there.' And with that thought in mind, Jin began to sprint once again with a small grin on his face.

"Do you think he's gonna show?" Yoongi mumbled as he nearly inhaled his fries. He gave a quick concerned look at the birthday boy. ‘I need a smoke’ Yoongi thought to himself as he bounced his right leg out of habit. If Jin wasn't known for his cockiness, then it was his amazing ability fall back asleep in less than 5 minutes. “Don’t go putting those idiotic pessimistic thoughts in Kookie’s mind, Yoongi. He already is starting to act like a blunt dickhead since he’s been hanging out with you.” Jimin sharply interrupted. He pulled at his sleeves to cover his fingers before averting his eyes from Yoongi’ gaze. Taehyung rolled his eyes before lightly sucking on his teeth. “Both of you, shut the fuck up. Jin is sprinting across the damn street in those old ass slides he bought his freshman year.” Jungkook, Yoongi, and Jimin turned their heads and stared at the lanky young man roughly take off his shoes and limped is way into the fast food restaurant. Jin slammed open the glass door before wildly searching for his group of misfits. His harsh breathing calmed to something that was somewhat normal when he made eye contact with Jungkook. Jungkook’s smile broke through his once solemn face and a dimple on his right cheek was something that made the rest of the boys smile. “Over here! We’re gonna go to the bridge in a bit,” the boy yelled as he motioned Jin over towards the booth in the corner where the four boys sat at. “Hey, I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner, Kookie,” an apologetic smile rose to Jin’ tanned face as he started to play with the hair that lie on the back of his neck, purposely avoiding the frizzy mess that sat atop his head. Taehyung pulled out his earbuds, giving Jin a thin smile before turning to talk to Jimin. Jin watched Taehyung as he quietly whispered and played with the frayed edges of his sleeves. His lips parted as he began to voice his concern toward Taehyung, but Yoongi cut him off. “So why were you so late?” the dyed redhead asked, his voice sharp and stern.“You knew it was Kookie’s birthday today and you knew he was gonna hurt if someone else were to let him down again.” Yoongi’ fingers tightened around themselves under the table. His dark brows were brought down at an angle, nearly touching the bridge of his nose. His breathing became heavier as anger rose from within him. To others, Yoongi might have been over reacting, but within those five boys it was expected and in reason. Before Jin answered, he gestured to his injured foot.

“I was on my way out and I dropped some glass.” Jin’s reply was sharp, he didn’t want to go any more into what he had dropped before his mental stability drops as well. “I really and sorry I’m late though. I’ll make it up to you later tonight, I promise.” the tan young man smiled at his friend before holding up his right pinky. Jungkook’s inner childishness was brought out and he linked his own finger with Jin’s.

The group of friends sat around a small makeshift bonfire that was just under the noisy bridge. Taehyung pulled out a small purple package from the pocket of his hoodie. As he ripped it open, Yoongi had pulled out a small baggie filled to the brim with a green substance. “Are you guys gonna smoke?” Jin asked while he tossed his empty bottle of some cheap alcohol he had bought the earlier that day out into the woods that were just a few feet from them.

Yoongi hummed quietly before handing the bag of bud to the younger man. Taehyung expertly rolled a blunt in his hand before lighting the tip of the Backwoods blunt on the small bonfire in front of him. “Clearly. I got 3 grams of some AK-47 for five dollars,” Yoongi bragged to Jin. He took the blunt from Taehyung’ boney fingers and placed it between his plump lips. Jimin turned towards Yoongi and watched as the thick cloud of smoke slipped through his lips. “Bitch could’ve just made me pay the full price and let me fuck instead of giving me a whole discount.” Yoongi spoke up once again.

“Why’re you acting like this?” Jin and Yoongi were only one year apart, and had they never dealt with a similar past, they would’ve never been friends. “You’ve haven’t always acted like this much of a dick before.” Jin’ voice was soft, he waited for the blunt to finally reach him before he continued speaking. “I’m serious though, what happened? You know you can tell us,” Jin finished, his tone as soft as it could ever be when he was smoking. Yoongi was quiet, he didn’t know how to react or maybe he was too high to even know what Jin was talking about. Jin stared at his closest friend with sad eyes. He felt the warmth of the smoke in his lungs escape through his parted lips. Yoongi turned away without a response. The rest of the group spoke amongst themselves, complaining about the workload of their classes, oblivious to the sudden drop in the atmosphere.

“Have either of you guys passed that one human anatomy class?” Taehyung said. He might be higher than a kite, but he was still worried about his own grades as he was trying to leave the Big Apple, and in order to do that, he needs to get into a good collegeー granted if he had the money, Taehyung would have moved long ago. Jin looked up at the high school senior, he opened his mouth to respond, but instead he laughed. “You good, Jin?” Yoongi still hadn’t spoken since Jin’ question. Frustrated, he pulled out a cigarette from his back pocket before placing it in between his pink lips. Dammit. Where’s my fucking lighter? A yellow lighter was suddenly shoved into his face. Yoongi’ eyes flashed upward from his cigarette, Jungkook. Since when did he start carrying lighters with him?

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