#ok i know most of my readers are on ao3 rather than here but anyway
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On the roof pt.1 | Niragi Suguru x gender neutral reader.
Word count : 2.4k
Trigger Warning : mention of school abuse, bullying, violence, death, maybe Niragi is ooc idk I did my best...
AO3 link
Author note : ok, I'm sooo nervous to post this...! this is the first time I post something on tumblr, it's no proofread at all and english isn't my first language so be kind please !
A second part will come, I don't know when, but there will be another part with... more action
Hope you'll like it...!
You were on the roof of the Beach. Thanks to Ann - you still don't know how she got there anyway - she managed to get a notebook, a pencil and an eraser, at your request.
Days at the Beach could be long and boring. Thankfully, you spent a lot of your free time in good company; Kuina was a lovely person, and even though Chishiya wasn't the most talkative, you managed to get along and have interesting conversations. Usagi and Tata were also very good companies. As for Arisu, you saw him as a big brother, you had the same centers of interest, the fictional universe as well as video games, you could talk about that for hours.
You were pretty well surrounded. But sometimes you felt the need to isolate yourself, to clear your mind. Living in this country was not easy, and every day was a tough and trying test for the physical, but also the mental.
The only thing that was able to relax you was drawing. Sometimes you isolated yourself on the roof of the beach, and you drew the landscape that offered itself to you, animals, you drew the portrait of your friends, or simply the first thing that crossed your mind. You were just alone with yourself, your thoughts, it wasn’t really healing, but for some hours, your only thoughts were turned to the strokes of pencils on this sheet of paper.
This time, you were drawing the pool beside you. There were a lot of people who were playing, dancing... having the time of their lives, like there's no tomorrow.
Your friends knew you had this habit of isolating yourself from time to time, and they respected that. However, today, someone you never expected came to disturb your moment of tranquility.
« Hey, what are you doing here? »
That male voice startled you, eliciting a laugh from the disruptor.
You had turned around to find yourself facing the right arm of the leader of the activists. The one everyone feared, always accompanied by his sniper taped to his shoulder.
Shoulder-length black hair, face and tongue piercings, a predator, ready to get rid of anyone who got in his way.
Suguru Niragi.
What was he doing here? What did he want from you?
« Saw you from the pool, so what are you doing here? He asked, approaching you, his free hand in his pocket.
- I… hum, just drawing, you answered, showing him your notebook. »
He leaned slightly to take a look at what you were doing, then straightened up.
« Hm. It's not bad, he hummed, nodding his head. »
You looked up at him, surprised. Niragi giving you a compliment? It wasn’t something common. You felt your cheeks heat up at the compliment, a big smile appearing on your face.
« Really? Thank you! It's just a simple sketch I did it in less than an hour, and then I'm not excellent at all with perspective ... It has always been my weak point. I rather prefer to draw characters or animals... Ah, sorry, I have a bad habit of talking too much when it comes to drawing.... I can come down if I disturb here... »
He arched an eyebrow when he saw you get up, you didn't want to upset him or anything.
« You can stay. Just checked you weren't some weirdos who were up to something fishy.
- Oh, thanks! »
You greeted him with a smile and saw him turn on his heels, already leaving. An idea crossed your mind. You knew it wasn’t good. Especially about him. You knew you were going straight into a wall, that he was going to snub you, probably insulting you. But your words went faster than your brain and your reason.
« Wait, Niragi! Can I … Can I draw you? »
He stopped. And you regretted immediately your request. He wasn’t that kind of type to just sit down and pose while someone drew him.
« I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… Forget what I s-
- ‘kay. »
You looked at him, again. You couldn’t hide your surprise, which made him laugh.
« I have nothing to do, my shift is over, and I’m kinda bored. Don’t fail me, though.
- Don’t worry about that, you answered with a smile, showing him the last portrait you did, it was Mira taking her daily cup of tea, I don’t have many skills in life, I’m not beautiful, nor smart or even physically strong, but drawing isn’t a part of it!
- What kind of bullshit are you saying. Seriously. He rolled his eyes, visibly annoyed, well. We’ll see. The result will decide whether you will live or not. »
Seeing your face decompose at his words, he bursts into a nasty laugh.
« Just kidding princess, relax.
- Don’t call me like that. »
You frowned. You knew this request was useless, if he wanted to call you like that, he would, whether you wanted or not.
Minutes passed where none of you spoke. You were too focused on your drawing, he was probably lost in thought, or something like that. Niragi was similar to Chishiya on certain points. It was impossible to know what he was thinking, what his next words or actions would be.
« You were a drawer before landing here, right.
- Hm? You looked up at him, nodding, I assisted a mangaka for the inking, yeah all that. My dream was to publish my own manga, one day, but… »
You let out a laugh, shaking your head.
« But what? Have you been refused? The world of drawing is as cruel as the world of video games, tho.
- You were working for the video game's industry?
- I was a game engineer. »
Wow. You were really impressed. You’d never thought that this man was doing something like that. Well, you never doubted that Niragi was more than that kind of person he was showing to everyone at the Beach.
Borderland was showing the worst side of every human. You weren’t an exception. You had to do things to survive. Things you shouldn’t regret, even if you did.
« Are we amazed, princess? He asked with a grin.
- To be honest, yeah, I didn’t expect that from you, you answered, ignoring his surname, but you were wrong for something, I… you paused for a few seconds, and sighed, I’ve never submitted my project to any magazine or something. I never had the chance. »
You felt a gaze land on you. You looked up to meet Niragi's, but directly broke eye contact, shaking your head.
« It’s nothing, I’ve always been unlucky. »
You sighed.
« I agreed to hang around here with you while you draw me, you owe me few answers. »
He was kinda right. Even if he saw that those answers hurt you. This man didn’t really have any empathy ? Or maybe his need to know was hiding something else ?
Nice. Now you were curious.
« Fine, I’ll tell you. »
You rolled your eyes.
« I wasn’t that popular in High School, you started, focus on your drawing, sometimes, you gave him little glances, but only for your drawing, of course, my classmates loved to play with me. Hiding my class notes, my bag, my shoes, throwing food in my hair you know, like the teacher used to say…
- Just children games, yeah, I know. »
You looked at him. Surprised. Was he… no, it was impossible. Niragi was so confident, so scary, so cool ? Yeah, despite everything about him, you always found Niragi kinda cool. Just like Chishiya, you admired his intelligence and self-confidence. He didn't care how people looked at him, what they thought of him.
So him ? Being bullied ?
« Niragi, you…
- Shut up. Keep talking.
- Fine, fine… So… I had this notebook, a pretty black notebook, which I’d decorated myself, all my ideas for my manga were there. It was a story in a fantasy world, all the ideas, the drawings about the world building, the chara design, the story was there… I had it since I was twelve. »
You took a small break. Those memories weren’t really that far. Maybe one year or two.
You inhaled deeply, without stopping your drawing. You had to stay focused on something. You felt Niragi's gaze on you, but you couldn't face it.
« Don’t know how this happened, but they found my notebook. One thing led to another, they reduced this notebook to ashes, your voice was shaking, like your hands, the pages torn, burned in front of me. All my life, all my dreams, hopes, flown, ruined. »
You made a pause, taking deep breath to not cry. You didn’t want to cry. Not in front of him. In front of anyone. You didn’t want to be that weak person you were in the past ever again.
« It could’ve ended like this. But no. They didn't have enough. I don't even know why they were like that with me, why they hated me so much that they hit me with that belt and broke that glass bottle on my head. I never knew why. But they did. »
Your eyes were burning. You did your best to hold back your tears.
« I spent weeks in the hospital, I had broken ribs and head trauma. After that, I finished my studies at home.
- What did they have, those assholes who did this to you ? He finally asks, his voice seemed calm, but he was angry.
- Nothing, just some few hours of detention, I think. Never saw them again. »
You shrugged, and took a deep breath.
« You wanted to know, happy ? »
Your voice was more aggressive than you thought. It wasn’t against him. You were just angry about those bullies, about your High School who did nothing, against the whole world for having made your life so complicated and shitty.
You didn’t know what he was thinking right now, maybe you suspected that talking about it had probably brought back painful memories for him, and you suddenly felt bad for not thinking about it sooner. But he’d insisted that you talk, and you hadn't connected the dots about his own experience as you told. He would have stopped you if it was too hard for him, right ?
« I’m sorry if I brought back so bad memories… you started, nibbling your lips, ah, there, I’m done, you added, giving him your notebook, sorry for the vent, I know you don’t care about my childish stories.
- Shut up. I care. I’m angry, and I want to kill those bastards for what they did to you. »
You stared at him, meeting his angry eyes. Again, like for you, it wasn’t against you.
« Did you… take revenge on them ? You dared to ask, biting your lip nervously.
- No, I didn’t.
- I’m… sorry. You whispered, you didn’t deserve to endure all of that, Niragi.
- You didn’t deserve it, you too. »
Your tears ran down your cheeks without you controlling it. It was the first time you heard these words.
It wasn’t your fault.
You put down the notebook, and turned your head slightly, lifting your hair and showing him a long scar on the back of your head, and you heard curses, maybe too many curses.
« I have more on my body, that’s why I’m always wearing a jacket, you gave him a sad smile, wiping your tears, ah, and I’m crying now, amazing. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna ask you a hug ! »
You chuckled and got up, tearing off the page containing his portrait, which you signed on the back before handing it to him.
« Take it, it’s a gift for thanking you. For this moment. It’s been a while since I hadn't spoked to someone who understood me… no, in fact, it's the first time ! Thank you very much, Niragi. »
You gave him the paper, and a warm smile appeared on your face.
You understood that he had gone through the same thing, too. The pieces of the puzzle had come together on their own. Why was he acting like this at the beach and with everyone.
He understood you. He was the only one who truly understood you.
Because he's been through all this shit, too.
That's why he made you talk, tell him what you had been through, why he didn't cut you off.
Why he didn't blame you.
Every person who heard this story did, the doctors, your parents, your therapist. In their eyes, it was your fault, you hadn't made enough efforts to socialize, drawing, videos games, dreaming about a fantasy world were weird hobbies.
You've been criticized more than once for not being "normal".
Your eyes had filled with tears that you couldn’t longer contain, your body had begun to shake, and you hated it for abandoning you like this, for being so weak, so vulnerable.
Why couldn't you be strong and brave like Niragi was? Why couldn't you fuck the world off, too?
You felt a hand land on your head. Your eyes looked up to meet his again, while he was patting your head. You knew Niragi wasn't the kind of guy to be good at reassuring, consoling or god knows what else showing affection, but he had done something. You felt your face heat up, but it didn't last long. Something else took place in your mind, a thought you had once had, but always suppressed it because you were ashamed of it.
In this world ? In the Borderlands ? Being ashamed for those kinds of thoughts had no place, because there were very few consequences.
Revenge.
« I… you began, voice shaking, not very sure of what you were about to say, I want them to pay for what they did, they don’t deserve to be happy too…
- Say it, it was an order, you could feel his hand running gently through your hair, which surprised you slightly, what do you want, y/n ?
- I want them to die, Niragi. »
You heard him chuckle before patting your head. As if he was satisfied with your words. As if he’d guessed that you had always wanted him deep inside.
Of course, he knew, he had been through the same thing as you after all.
Maybe this world poisoned you more than you thought.
#alice in borderland#niragi suguru#niragi x reader#niragi fanfiction#niragi alice in borderland#niragi x you#niragi suguru x reader#niragi suguru x you#alice in borderland x reader#alice in borderland fanfiction#aib#aib x reader#aib fanfiction#aib imagines#aib x you#alice in borderland x you#imawa no kuni no arisu#imawa no kuni no arisu fanfiction
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ok so i spent yesterday looking through and collecting data from ao3's rpf (real person fanfiction) collection (for no reason other than 'i was intrigued' lol...)
and i thought i'd go through some of the interesting finds!
(this is probably interesting to nobody but me but hey when has that ever stopped me lol!)
starting with a disclaimer that this is a judgement free zone! i may make a few jokes about things from time to time on here, but i am firmly of the 'ship and let ship' mindset so no hate meant in any of this at all lol <3
first interesting fact is that kpop is the highest rpf tag (with over 650k works!!), bts are obviously the boy group with the most fics, with twice being the highest girl group!
speaking of girls... so for every category i tried to find what the top f/f ship was and for a couple of the tags (most notably actors and music), the top f/f ships were actually male characters (which confused me until i saw the additional tags were genderbend and genderswap lol)... there are also a lot of fandoms where the top characters when you take out m/m ships is actually original female characters (or reader)!
unsurprisingly, taylor swift is the solo artist with the most fics written about her (many shipping her with various celebs, both men and women), but what i found interesting is that there are 140 of her songs and albums that are featured in fics, which is more than any other musician's work (even hozier lol!)
other music tag info is one direction as the non-kpop band with the most fics, with larry stylinson being the top ship (no one is shocked at this) and the highest rating being explicit! which is a bit surprising since most of these fandoms have either general or teen and up ratings as the top one... the only other umbrella rpf fandom that has explicit as the top rating is actors... oh and porn (duh)
my chemical romance deserve a mention as the band with the most fics under the rock music tag (and in the bandom tag), with gerard as the top character (good for them!)! queen also rank pretty highly, with a lot of the fics being specifically linked to the 2018 film bohemian rhapsody rather than specifically the band themselves (so it's like... rpf of rpf lol?)
i think the beatles are the oldest band/musician to have a lot of rpf about them but it's honestly a little hard to tell so don't quote me on this... they are also at the top of the 60's music scene, where the rolling stones take 2nd lol...
the rpf section that i went into the most blind was the sports tag, since my knowledge of sports is .......... yeh that's about all i know lol
men's football and hockey have a similar number of fics each (a little over 30k), though the top character in the sports tag is max verstappen who is actually a racing driver so ??? confused noises lol
anyway idrc about the men (this is a joke ofc @ men i love you), what i DO care about is that women's football (and this is specifically the soccer kind not the american lol) has the highest femslash fics, and i looked up tobin heath (who was the top character in this section) and lemme just say that i Get it lol...
wwe and formula 1 are some other sports that have a significant number of fics in the, filled with people i've never heard of before pfft... i will say that most of the sports have general as their top rating, except for hockey which has explicit (i feel like theirs some kinda joke i could make here about playing with sticks but i'm not gonna lol... especially since most sports already play with balls so?)
anyway enough about sports lol, let's return to something i'm much more comfortable with: youtubers!
youtube is actually the 2nd most written about category (next to kpop, with nearly 280k fics) with minecraft youtubers (the top character being tommyinnit) being the most written about!
what i found most fascinating about this is that 8 out of the 10 top ships in this tag are platonic (and 1 is actually just the 'no romantic relationships' tag lol... the top ship overall is still a slash pairing, but it's still interesting that such a big fandom has mainly platonic pairings!)
also even though the phandom have nowhere near the amount of fics as minecraft youtube, i found it kinda funny that there are (as of writing this) only 95 more fics featuring dan than phil (essentially saying that literally nearly 99% of the fics feature the both of them lol... phandom really said 'co-dependency' and i respect that lol)
moving on to actors, which i expected to have a lot more fics than it does given a lot of rpf involves the actors of characters in popular fictional ships (i mean there are still a lot, over 130k lol...) and supernatural takes the crown of having the most fics of this category! j2 is the top ship, though the 3rd top ship in the actors tag is actually tom hiddleston x original female character! i think because of this british actors are the highest subsection of actors, followed by chinese actors!
i think i did expect the chinese actors to have more fics, but i'm guessing the smaller number is because of the whole xiao zhan ao3 drama from a few years ago... wang yibo x xiao zhan still make up the most popular ship, plus there are plenty of other c-dramas and other chinese shows that have a big number of fics that don't fall under the chinese actor umbrella tag (so the number probably would be a lot larger if i went through and counted them... but i'm not gonna)... similar thing with thai actors, which only has a couple thousand fics in the tag, but there are a whole lot more fics dedicated to rpf of specific actors on specific shows (from a quick glance i think tharntype and kinnporsche are a couple of the highest fandoms? but i didn't go through everything cos i'd already been doing this for a few hours and i was getting sleeeeeby lol...)
one thing that intrigued me was the british comedy category (which is the top comedy category lol! we did it lads we finally came top with something!), where would i lie to you and taskmaster were the top fandoms! david mitchell was the top character and, kinda bizarrely imo, david x charlie brooker was the top ship (i feel like i'm missing some kinda big thing in the british comedy fandom ngl lol... but like really? you ship david with charlie brooker when robert webb, his actual comedy partney, is RIGHT there? or even lee mack i'm ??? ok ok i'm getting off topic pfft...)
oh greg davies and alex horne are also a popular ship in this category ofc (though they have less than 1000 fics lol!)
the final umbrella category of rpf that i could find was historical, which is the tag with the least amount of fics (under 20k), with alexander hamilton and various other american specific historical figures making up the bulk of the popular historical fics (these are mainly tired to the musical hamilton btw)!
the top characters and ship when narrowed down to just the f/f of the historical tag is mostly original female characters btw!
there are also fics of other public figures, like politics, porn, journalists and chefs, and probably the most intriguing facts i found from this section are that hillary clinton is the most popular character in the 21st century us politics section, joe biden and donald trump are the 4th most popular ship (with the reoccurring additional tag of 'crack fic' lol), and though it isn't in the top stats, when i went into the pundit and journalist tag the first few fics to pop up were ben shapiro x matt walsh explicit stuff which was... uh... interesting lol
final thing i'll note is that i stuck mainly to ao3 for this because though i know places like wattpad have a large rpf collection too, but it's so bloody HARD to find data about fics on that site pfft... though i think one thing that would be shown by looking into wattpad's rpf community is that whereas ao3 has a lot of shipping content (obviously), wattpad has a lot more reader x celebrity (but like take this with a pinch of salt since i've not actually done the research for this part pfft...)
anyway i hope you (all 0 of you) enjoyed this rambling take on the data i found on ao3's rpf collection lol!
i know people get really weird around rpf, but i just genuinely find it SO interesting how diverse the range of stuff people write about!
#honestly idk what to tag this pfft...#statistics#rpf statistics#ao3 stats#rpf#rambling#i've not put it into like a proper data list because i just kinda wanted to ramble about it pfft#i think all the stuff around the youtube section was what surprised me the most ngl!#anyway uh yeh i spent way too long on this when i should probably be trying to do some art pfft...
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ok since the entire dash is on about reblogging n stuff i think i'll leave my two cents bc we all know i can never not give my two cents sdjshdgf
anyway i think reblogging has two main purposes—at least to me—and that is either sharing something you enjoyed to the rest of your followers to help spread it, or to leave feedback / comments to express that you enjoyed it.
if you are a blog with a following, as in a blog such as my own, where thousands of people follow you and are likely to see your posts on dash, you should feel inclined to drop a reblog of content you enjoy or content of a mutual that you see to boost it. that doesn't necessarily mean you have to reblog everything you see on dash, but writers tend to have much larger followings in comparison to readers, so if you are a writer who for the most part does not reblog other writing, you are a LARGE part of the problem. and "i don't read as often as i write" is not an excuse bc i don't read that often either, and i do usually prefer ao3 over tumblr if i do read, but i try to reblog what i stumble across on dash to offer a work some more exposure. and while we're on the topic, i think "fic rec blogs" essentially kill the purpose of reblogs because your followers are on your MAIN BLOG not your fic rec side blog. lets all be honest no one ever really follows rec blogs and you are essentially sharing your work to nobody. tbh tagging ur reblogs will organize them just as fine as having them on a separate blog, so kindly consider sharing works to your main blog with ur following and not one that is close to empty.
if you're a reader with a blog with little to no following, i think tbh leaving a comment can be just as good as reblogging. i know there are a lot of readers on here who basically have no followers and don't see the point in sharing a work onto an empty blog, or if they do have followers its friends who they don't want to see the things they read, so i get it, sometimes you'd rather not reblog. but leaving a comment on a post instead of reblogging onto your blog is also a great option—and tbh, i think that serves the same purpose if you don't have people to rly share the posts to. the main point is that if you enjoy a work, leaving a comment here or there—whether thru a reblog or on the post itself—can go a long way for a writer, more than you think !! liking and moving on does little to indicate you've enjoyed something since a lot of ppl just like posts to save something for later, but if you take the time to leave comments on the post or thru the tags, you can really help a writer find the motivation to produce more content. please also kindly kill all mentality that being a writing blog has to tie a blog to being only writing—that is very unfair to a writer's personal interests and passions and ultimately reduces them as someone you only think of as a means of entertainment rather than an individual who shares work out of passion for their hobby.
the moral of the story is reblogging is important, especially if you have a decent following, but at the very least leaving a comment can be nice. being offered a form of feedback is the reason why writers share their writing, not why they write.
#𑁍 — tee talks.#<< this tag is so real bc boy i sure do talk a lot#anyway those r just my thoughts im gonna go write now kadsdjhgf#feel free to rb or dont idrc but do consider interacting with writing outside of likes#not just writing actually all types of work deserve interaction outside of just a like
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Tropetember Day 5 - Accidental Confession / In Vino Veritas (Drunk Confession/Drunk Dial)
Unrequited love? Bite me
Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x GN!Reader
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Rating: Teen and up
TW: Drinking/alcohol, language, vampirism/blood mentions, FWB mention
AN: Day 5 of @tropetember. Not my best work but hope you enjoy. Might rework this slightly at a later point.
A visit to the Salvatores in Mystic Falls should be pretty fun, until Damon decides to drag you to a party the Originals are throwing.
Find this story on Ao3 here.
Word Count: 1.5k
“Damon, you cannot be serious.”
Your best friend just gives you puppy dog eyes. Bright blue and sad as can be. It’s kinda pathetic.
“Pretty please.”
You huff, knowing you won’t win this argument. You’ve known him since you were both children, through him being turned by Katherine and later Stefan turning you (long story), and then on and off in the intervening century and a half. You even had a casual friends with benefits arrangement when you were both lonely/bored. Knowing him so well, you decide to save everyone the time and give in.
“You’re paying for my outfit Damon! I can not believe you’re making me go…”
He scoops you up and spins you, making you squeal as he thanks you. Stefan, who has been observing from the couch being absolutely no help, just laughs.
“You won’t regret it. It’ll be fun and we can learn some things at the same time. We’ll be the most attractive spy duo in history.”
You just roll your eyes and go to grab your keys before stealing Damon’s wallet. If you’re going to have to face the Mikaelsons again, you weren’t doing it in something you’d worn before. And you were going to buy something expensive out of spite.
------------------
The entrance to the Mikaelson’s house was the same as any other house in Mystic Falls: opulent, excessive and with far too much marble. You’d take a cosy cabin over this nonsense any day.
Clinging to Damon's arm, you enter the space and, thankfully, Klaus is the only one of the family greeting guests.
“Darling, it’s been a while.” You can’t help the reactionary smile as you embrace him. He could be bat shit crazy at times, but he’d always been kind to you.
“Klaus! I’ve missed you.” Out of your eye corner, you can see Damon giving you both evil eyes. Had you accidentally on purpose forgotten to mention you knew the original family? Oops, your bad.
Klaus doesn’t let you go far, holding you at arms length to admire your new outfit. You do look stunning in it, if you do say yourself.
“Beautiful.” He leans in to whisper in your ear “My brother really doesn’t realise what he’s missing.”
You laugh him off, ignoring the implication. You knew better.
“Now boys,” you say, glancing between them, “I’ll have no part in whatever this little competition or measuring contest is, and I expect you all to leave me out of it.” They both look a little guilty as they nod. “Marvellous. If you need me, I’ll be somewhere out of the way with a glass of champagne.”
And with that you head further into the party, leaving them to bicker.
-----
"Urgh, I've missed you so much! I can't believe you left us."
You and Rebekah are both waaaay too many glasses of champagne deep at this point. You’d been there a couple of hours by now and it had only taken Rebekah 30mins to realise you were there and take you hostage. You're currently sequestered on a sofa in a corner and are both a bit sloppy.
"What do you want me to say Bekah? It's your arsehole brother's fault."
"Wait, what? What did Klaus do?"
You laugh, just a tad hysterically and fortify yourself with another sip out of your glass.
"Wrong one. Go older"
A look of understanding comes across her face and she wraps an arm around you. You, sadly, don't have enough of your wits about you to realise that this isn't the best place for a drunken heart to heart.
Everything starts to spill out of you. How you and Elijah had spent so much time together. How you thought he liked you back, only for him to turn up with what's her name wrapped around him. How he'd laughed when you'd expressed your surprise that he was dating, and how it made you feel like nothing. It was too much for your heart to handle. So you’d left, had a fun rebound weekend with Damon and tried to move on.
Rebekah pulls back slightly, wiping a tear that had escaped without your permission.
"You're too good for him anyway," she says and you laugh.
"I wish that were true.” You pull yourself together a little and put on your best fake smile. “For now, I'm just going to don an air of indifference and pretend I'm not in love with your oldest brother."
Your mirth leaves you instantly as you hear a refined voice behind you ask, "now why on Earth would you do that?"
It’s amazing how panic can sober you up.
You turn slowly and meet the eyes of the oldest Original. He’s in a suit, as always, and has a confident smirk plastered across his face. That pisses you off.
“Cos he’s an asshole” you coolly reply before turning to Rebekah, pressing a kiss to her cheek and walking swiftly out of the room to find Damon to take you home. You’d embarrassed yourself quite enough for one night.
You’d never admit that you were disappointed that Elijah didn’t try to stop you.
------------
One of the advantages to being a vampire was that you very rarely got a hangover. Instead, you just slept in a little, made a cup of coffee and did some yoga before heading out to treat yourself to lunch. You didn’t need to eat but you enjoyed the taste, there was much more variety in food than blood.
You'd only arrived in Mystic Falls a couple of days ago for your visit to see the Salvatore brothers and as such hadn't had a chance to try out the Mystic Grill. This seemed like a perfect fit opportunity. Something greasy would be perfect right about now.
The grill was a bit dingy but it worked for the place and you were happy to learn that they have a pretty good menu selection. Your excitement was soured though when Elijah decided to join you for lunch.
Dressed in yet another suit, no tie and the top buttons of his shirt undone, he oozes charm and money. Add in the handsome features and knockout smile and you were lost. You're sure back in the day the ladies with delicate constitutions had to keep their smelling salts close. You could easily have fainted over him.
But he wasn't interested in you, as he had made very clear, so you were just annoyed that he was existing in your space.
Elijah watched you eat for a few moments, clearly taking note of your reluctance to acknowledge him.
"For someone who's in love with me, you don't seem particularly happy to see me darling."
You groan quietly and lower your utensils. Wishing him away wasn't working.
"What do you want Elijah?" You sound bitter, even to your own ears. So much for attempting to sound neutral.
"One of my favourite people, who I haven't seen for a long time, has reappeared and I want to spend time with them. Is that too much to ask?"
You start eating again, using it to buy time. You had honestly missed his company. You just weren’t sure if you could bear him breaking your heart again, even accidentally and unintentionally. Luckily, he had more to say.
“Klaus told me off after you left, you know?”
You look at him in surprise.
“Told me that I’d wasted my best opportunity at happiness. Which is especially concerning considering who it was coming from.”
You nod your agreement. Klaus wasn’t exactly known for his sentimentality.
He continues, “would you believe that I really thought you were too good for me? That I really thought you weren’t interested?”
“Elijah, you can not be serious.” You pull a face at him. “I literally spent all of my time with you, hanging on your every word. I would have followed you to the ends of the Earth. How could you not have known?”
“I just thought you were being your usual effervescent self. I started dating again to try and let you go.”
Miscommunication. You shake your head. 30 years of heartbreak all because of miscommunication. God, you could bang the pair of your heads together. It’s basically a crappy romance novel. Ok, this is ok. You can fix this. You have pretty much forever left, after all.
Taking the initiative, you lean forward and grasp Elijah’s hand. His eyes fall to where you wrap your fingers around his. A hopeful look takes over his face as he returns to your eyes.
“Elijah?” You smile. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”
He laughs. It’s a beautiful sound. You’re going to make it your personal mission to make him do it more often.
Lifting your knuckles to his lips, he places a gentle kiss on them.
“I can think of nothing else I’d rather do.”
#tropetember#fanfiction#the vampire diaries#the originals#elijah mikaelson x reader#elijah mikaelson x y/n#elijah mikaelson x you#miscommunication#tw: alcohol#unbeta'd#slightly rushed#in vino veritas
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Waited So Long
Summary: As an actress in her mid 20′s you had been lucky enough to get the roles you pushed yourself for, but one role in particular needs a scene you have no experience with; a sex scene, and you co-star is surprised to discover you are still a virgin even though you are in your mid 20′s. But he’s willing to help with whatever you need.
Trope: Friends to Lovers, Co-stars to Lovers
Pairing: Henry Cavill x Female Reader
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, loss of virginity, oral sex, fingering, vaginal sex, protection/condoms.
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Masterlist got so long all the links broke, so you can now find all my previous stories on my AO3 LINK HERE
Waited So Long
Henry sat at the large table, grinning and laughing as the rest of the cast had finished reading through the latest episode’s script. Everyone was in a good mood and that was down to the fact that tomorrow’s shooting schedule required just you and Henry, meaning that everyone else got a three day weekend. But… but you were just staring at the script. You knew it had been coming, but to see the words in front of you, the stage descriptions, it was overwhelming.
The Netflix special was ten episodes of a sci-fi series, and you played an alien warrior. Henry was the plucky human astronaut that had been aboard the International Space Station when it had been sucked into a black hole and had ended up on the far side of the universe. Eight episodes into the filming schedule and the pivotal sex scene was about to be included, and that’s what was clouding every thought in your mind.
You were far from naive, you had no issue with your costume or even the nudity - you were after all painted purple with patches of ‘scales’ in strategic parts - but it was the fact you had a small secret that was making you so nervous; you hadn’t ever actually had sex.
You were already mid 20’s, you’d been through university and stage school, worked on broadway and the London west end, you’d modelled for artists and had always put your career first. Relationships had just fizzled away after the first couple of dates because of your acting schedule… and that is how you found yourself not only a virgin in her mid 20’s, but one that had never even laid in bed with a partner, been close, felt the weight of a lover on top of them… anything at all.
The producers called it a wrap for the read through, and the sounds of chairs scraping on the floor filled the room. As people shot their empty plastic bottles into the trash you felt your stomach lurch, quickly leaving the room, finding the disabled bathroom and running to the toilet, the contents of your stomach very quickly coming back up.
Finally empty, you sat on the floor and rested your head against the wall, your mind spinning. A quiet knock at the door made you open one eye, watching as the unlocked door swung open and a familiar face peered round;
“Are you ok?” Henry asked, his bulk almost filling the entire doorway; “You’re not coming down with something?”
You shook your head;
“No, just umm… nerves… haha…” you laughed rather awkwardly.
Stepping into the room, he sat against the opposite wall, leaning forwards to hand you his half finished bottle of water;
“... about tomorrow?”
Taking a sip of water you nodded;
“Bit pathetic really, isn’t it?”
“Not at all. Is this your first onscreen love scene?”
“Yeah”
He sat forwards, resting his hands on his knees as he thought pensively for a moment;
“Are you going out with the crew tonight?”
“No. Can’t really face it”
“How about I drive us back to the house and order some chinese and talk things through? This isn’t my first love scene but I remember the nerves. We’ll get everything out in the open so the air is clear ready for tomorrow, yeah?”
Nodding, you watched as he stood, holding out his hand for you and helping you to your feet.
-
The drive back to the shared house that most of the main cast members were staying at was fun, Henry having linked his Spotify to the stereo, firing up a playlist of old school pop with an eclectic mix of metal. By the time he rolled into the large driveway that the rental house had, you were both yelling out the words, laughing and grinning.
Once inside you excused yourselves to go shower, twenty minutes later finding Henry in the kitchen. His hair was wet and he wore a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants as he looked over the chinese menu;
“What do you fancy?” he asked and you tried not to blurt out what you were thinking, because even though you may be a virgin, your thoughts were far from pure.
Looking over the list he had already scribbled down, you pointed to a couple of dishes, watching as he added them to the list before dialling for delivery.
-
Pushing your plate away you stretched out and groaned. Still shovelling egg fried rice into his mouth, Henry pointed his fork at your plate;
“Roo dun?” he asked, his cheeks full like a hamster.
“Help yourself!”
He eagerly dumped the rest of your lemon chicken on top of his rice, jabbing at the pieces;
“Hey, about tomorrow… you really don’t need to worry. It’s just going to be you and me, and three other people”
Taking a sip of your beer you quietly snorted;
“That’s still three more people that would ‘usually’ be there… and four more than i’ve ever experienced”
He paused, setting his fork down and you could see his mind working through what you said;
“So uhh, it's been a while…?”
“To be honest, it's been never”
It was like something short circuited in his brain;
“Never never? Like, never?”
Putting your beer down, you fiddled with the label;
“I’m a virgin. I’ve never had sex. I’ve never even slept with anyone”
There was an awkward silence, the air tense before Henry finally spoke;
“Is it a religious thing?”
You shook your head;
“No. I just have been so wrapped up in studying or working or being on stage… I would get two dates into a relationship and some big opportunity would come up. I would get blinkered and end up ghosting guys without even realising. Ambition got in the way of a love life…”
Henry took a deep breath;
“Ok. So you know i’ll be covered up… down there i mean… and so will you… so there won’t be any slips or anything. I won’t be inside you or anything…”
Cocking an eyebrow you scoffed;
“Henry… I know you won’t be inside me. We studied sex scenes at stage school. They gave us the practical run down of what happens. It's lots of rubbing and grunting. I just need to go watch some porn again to figure out what to grunt…” you took a sip of your beer; “... and you probably wouldn’t fit inside me anyway… it’s not like anything has ever breached that hole”
Henry sat with a wide eyed look on his face, his jaw hanging slack;
“So you… you’ve never even pleasured yourself?”
“Of course i have!” you threw a prawn cracker at him; “I’ve just never…. You know… had internal stimulation…”
“Wow” he muttered quietly, shifting in his seat; “So…” he started again but then stopped, his brain seemingly unable to string a coherent sentence together.
Finally he cleared his throat;
“So there’s never been any on set stuff?”
“Nope. Usually I run through my lines for the next day, check the schedule, the set and makeup call times. I guess the one bonus about all of this is that there aren’t any lines for tomorrow”
You both knew that the scene had been set up without dialogue, mostly from Netflix’s instruction because any erotic scenes can cause havoc with sensors in some countries when it comes to subtitles.
“What did you want to do now? Do you want an early night? Watch a movie? Talk? You want me to lay on top of you?” he asked, picking his now cold plate of food up and dumping the leftovers in the waste disposal.
“Yes” you replied far too quickly.
“Which part?”
“All of it”
-
With the TV in the main living area out of action thanks to a rather rambunctious game of ping pong a few weeks ago, the pair of you had moved to Henry’s room. An hour into the movie and it was far from your thoughts, instead you were in the bizarre situation where Henry was literally laying on top of you as you had a conversation. The feeling of his weight pressing against you was at first a surprise, he was thick with muscles for the role, and with probably 200lbs of human pressing you against the mattress you had found you would have to shift now and again. Finally you found a position that was comfortable, and as you chatted about life you found your legs had naturally parted to allow him to lay between them, his stomach pressing to yours, his face inches from your own;
“This is literally how we’ll be spending our day tomorrow you realise” he quietly pointed out
“But there will be grunting too… plus some thrusting… it’ll probably get your ass in the gossip magazines as best ass in hollywood again” you teased him, knowing that the nudity he’d done in previous shows and movies had earned him a lot of attention thanks to his rather peachy behind.
Henry pushed up a little, poking a finger to your breasts;
“Oh yeah? Well these will earn you a whole legion of fans, you have an awesome pair of tits”
“Pfft, they’re just average”
“They’re good enough to give me a semi” he countered with a crooked grin on his face, using his finger to just tug at your neckline, exposing a tiny bit more skin.
You shifted beneath him without even realising you were doing so and that’s when you felt it, a growing hardness pressing against your abdomen. Your eyes went wide as you stared up at him, the mix of emotions showing on his face;
“I’ll get off…”
“No!” you instinctively wrapped your legs around his, leaning your head up and pressed a kiss to his lips. He let out a grunt of surprise and you felt him tense, before he softened, his lips following yours as you pulled rested your head back on the duvet beneath you.
His lips were soft and plump, and as he rocked his hips against you again this time you felt he was getting harder. Instinctively you gasped, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You may not have had sex before but you had kissed, and your tongue danced with his as hands started to explore each others bodies, fingers seeking out skin as t-shirts were tugged up to expose heated skin.
Pulling your shirt over your head he admired your naked chest, the pattern on your top having hidden the fact you were without a bra;
“Oh yeah, even purple these’ll be popular”
With a smirk on his lips and a wicked grin on his face he lowered his mouth to your naked torso, taking one peaked nipple between his lips to suck on it, his hand cupping your other breast. As he worked his magic your body responded, the wetness between your thighs soaking through your clothing, the subtle movements of your bodies rubbing together making your arousal almost uncontrollable. Winding your hands into his dark locks, the soft hair curled around your fingers as he looked at you, pressing a trail of kisses down your sternum until he reached your leggings;
“Can i continue?” he asked quietly, watching as you nodded your head;
“Yes… please…”
As he pulled your leggings off he pressed kisses to the heated skin that he revealed, never breaking eye contact;
“So here’s what i’m going to do… first i’m going to get you to cum with my tongue, i’ll slip it just a little inside you so you can get used to the feeling, then i’ll gently tease you with my fingers; find that g-spot of yours as i’ve been assured a g-spot orgasm is completely different from a clitoral orgasm…
“Fuck…”
“Yes, that’s the third thing…” he grinned at you; “Once you’re nice and ready, and really really wet i’m going to make love to you… so you can practice your moans for tomorrow…”
He shed you of the rest of your clothing before softly grasping your legs and pulling them apart, revealing your virgin core. Tender fingers parted your petals before his tongue swiped a wide stripe through them, and the sound that emerged from your throat startled even you.
“You like that?”
“Yes… oh my god, please do that again!”
“With pleasure!”
“The pleasure is all mine…”
“Henry?”
“Yes?”
“Please shut up and get on with it” you grinned at him, before he dipped his face back between your legs and went to town. His tongue was seemingly everywhere, grunts and moans as he worked you open, and when he slipped his tongue into the ring of muscle at your entrance your eyes shot open and you giggle-moaned at the unfamiliar but not unpleasant experience. When a finger found your clit you relaxed again, laying back and enjoying the pleasure he was selflessly giving you.
Gripping at the bedcovers you found your hips started to move on their own, only for Henry to press a strong arm across your stomach to hold you in place, pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm. When it finally did hit your body reacted instinctively; your legs wrapping themselves around his head, your back arching and your fingers almost tearing through the fabric of the sheets, before you finally went limp. As your mind was nothing but stars a muffled voice came through the haze of your post orgasmic bliss;
“If i could get some oxygen…”
Not realising your legs were still firmly wrapped around Henry’s head, you quickly released him, his head popping up from beneath your thighs. His cheeks were flushed red and his chin was wet, and it took you a moment to realise you were the cause for the wetness. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand before standing and grabbing a bottle of water to pass to you;
“You’re gonna need to rehydrate after that…”
You went to take the bottle from him but the bulging tent in his sweatpants distracted you, your hand pausing mid air before Henry laughed;
“Drink first, then you can play with it”
“Oh… I… “
“Drink”
Taking the bottle you sipped at the tepid liquid as he lay on the bed beside you. When you’d finished he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to his firm chest before kissing you softly;
“Are you ready for round two?”
“Can i touch you too?”
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth before he nodded, watching as you eased the elastic of his sweats down and his heavy cock sprang free. Your jaw fell as you took in his size, but before you could overthink it he pressed a kiss to your lips as his hands wandered between your thighs.
Reaching out you wrapped your fingers around him as his own slid between your folds, dancing over your clit before he pressed a single digit inside you, your eyes going wide and your hand squeezing him involuntarily.
“Does that feel good?”
You nodded;
“Yes, a little strange that i’m not in control, but i think that’s what makes it even more exciting”
“That’s good… now, how about another finger?”
Nodding again you bit your lip as he slid a second finger in alongside the first, your eager hole stretching around his digits. Instinctively you had started to move your hand up and down his shaft, doing little more than gentle movements, but soon the pair of you got into a rhythm, working together to leave your breaths in time with the others.
“Doing so well for me… so wet. Shall we try a third?”
Nodding you let out a quiet ‘uh-huh’ as he repositioned his hand, carefully sliding three fingers into your soaked velvet channel, and the noise that came from your throat was base and full of sin. When his thumb started to rub against your clit while he continued to work three fingers inside you the spring in your belly snapped and you were coming hard, shaking around his hand.
As you came down from your high Henry carefully withdrew his fingers, salaciously licking them clean before he got off the bed and went to the drawer in the little cabinet, pulling out a condom.
“Oh… i’m on the pill…” you blurted out; “You don’t have to… In fact i’d really like to feel you, you know… bare…”
Tearing the packet open he grinned at you;
“I get that… but you’re gonna be in makeup in less than 12 hours” he knelt on the bed as he started to roll the latex down his angry dick.
“Umm yeah?”
“Well its something you’d only know from experience, but it can take up to 24 hours for a guys cum to fully leak out of you”
“Oh…”
“And your costume and makeup gets pretty intimate, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah…”
“So you want Iris in makeup to be able to smell my cum dripping out of you when she’s painting your snatch purple tomorrow?” he said with a grin on his face, rolling the condom down fully before positioning himself between your legs
“I gotta be honest, the idea that someone realises i’ve had sex is kinda kinky” you craned your neck up to kiss him as you felt his dick notch at the entrance to your cunt; “But you’re the expert here”
“That i am… Let me show you just how much of an expert…”
With a smooth roll of his hips he pushed into you and the feeling was indescribable, in fact it was so overwhelming you screwed your eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall, but Henry simply held still, kissing each one of your tears as they fell down your cheeks until you were ready.
“Breathe babe… just breathe… it’s overwhelming i know… i understand…”
Opening your eyes you gazed up at him, smiling as he leaned down and kissed you softly.
“Are you ok?”
“Y-yeah…”
“You want me to keep going?”
“Please… oh god please”
“Gonna make you feel so good”
He carefully pulled his hips back before pushing into you again, seemingly getting deeper before pulling out again. Soon you were lost in the moment, feelings both physical and emotionally almost overwhelming you again as your body was taken to new heights of pleasure, Henry seemingly knowing exactly how to make the moment special for you.
Your body reacted in the best way, the tight spring inside you curling ever tighter, until with just the right roll of his hips he tipped you over the edge and you were coming hard, your body squeezing him so tight he knew he’d found heaven whilst you saw stars.
Whilst you were in the haze of your orgasm you heard the most beautiful moans, and felt as Henry came deep within you. As soon as he stopped shaking he wrapped his arms around you tightly, pressing his face to your neck as he cradled the back of your head with his massive hand, pressing soft kisses to your heated skin as you both basked in the aftershocks of your intense orgasms.
Finally Henry pushed himself up to bear his weight on one arm, sliding his other hand between your bodies to hold the condom in place as he carefully pulled out of you;
“I’m just gonna get rid of this… stay here”
You watched his peachy ass as he quickly mad his way to the bathroom, hearing water running before he reappeared moments later with a damp washcloth. Sitting delicately beside you he carefully cleaned you up, and when he was finished he pulled the duvet over your naked body as he quickly got rid of the cloth and joined you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you to his chest;
“Are you ok?”
“I think so… Did i make a mess of your bed?”
“No. No blood”
“Really? I thought…”
“If you’re relaxed enough you may not bleed… or you may have simply ruptured your hymen just through every day life. A fall, tampons, strenuous exercise… didn’t you do a horseriding movie a couple of years back?”
“Y-yeah…” you cast your mind back; “Now you mention it, there was one really long day when i’d spent all day shooting a galloping scene with jumps… i just thought my period was coming early, and i had this really dull ache in my lower back… i guess that makes sense now…”
“So… you’re good? Feel ok about filming tomorrow?”
You nodded;
“Yeah, i’m good. Thank you” You looked up at him and saw he was chewing his lip nervously; “What?”
“I was wondering… you know… after we’ve finished filming tomorrow… did you want to go to dinner with me?”
“Like a date?”
“Yeah… hey i understand if you say no… that you want to concentrate on your role and acting…”
“No! I mean yes!” you took a deep breath; “I’d love to go to dinner with you”
He pressed a kiss to your cheek before you settled on his chest, his strong heartbeat beating beneath your ear as you let your eyelids drop and you fell asleep in his arms.
-
Iris tutted as you fidgeted;
“Will you stand still? I need to get these scales on!”
“Sorry Iris… just a little sore…”
The older woman looked up at you as she held the patch of purple scales prosthetic and grinned;
“Well its about time” she nodded to the various bottles and jars that were on the counter; “Make sure you take the coconut oil when you leave tonight, it’ll help get the adhesive off without pulling on any bruises”
You looked down at Iris and smiled;
“Thanks Iris”
“Was it worth it?”
“So worth it”
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Buxom beauty
Oneshot summary; You struggle, as an overweight and taller than average woman, to find the beauty in yourself. However, Loki there to make you understood just how worthy and magnificent you truly are.
Pairing: Loki x reader
Rating: Mature
CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Oneshot
Word; 2.900
Warnings; will say triggering themes ( e.x serious self-doubt) even if it may not be the case, maybe som angst
Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing
A/N: So a little mid-week surprise everyone! This fic is per request from a user on my AO3 account following their lines of: “Could you possibly do one where reader is tall for a woman but also overweight? She struggles with seeing herself as worthy or beautiful but Loki is tryna make her see herself the way he sees her in his own special way?? Please can you do this?” It started out as a drabble and an hour later it was all of a sudden a whole ass fic. Tbh I’m not even gonna apologise this time.
Your eyes were levelled with the upper edge of the mirror. Although you didn't concentrate on how the top of your head didn't really fit into the reflected image unless you took a few steps back. Instead, your eyes followed the soft curves running along the sharp edges of the mirror.
It was soft. No, you were soft in places which the majority of women perhaps not were. Rather than resemble the figure of the mirror before you, which was slim and narrow. Your body was an even curve all the way from your busts to thighs. Though depending on how you shifted your weight, it could also become uneven. Despite how it looked, some places were more generous than others in exceeding the public image of how you should look.
When you turned to the side, your head stayed twisted towards your figure. Your outline wasn't straight. Nor descending into a slender point of which your feet was the tip. It was like a wave, rising in places and lowering in others. And much like that movement of water, your body didn't have any sharp edges. It was simply soft and natural-looking.
You closed your eyes, turning back to fully face the mirror. However, as you started to walk backwards, you didn't re-open them. Purely because you didn't need to look to know there was no gap between your thighs. Neither how no trained illusion of abs existed as an outline under the shirt you wore. Nor how the fabric covering you followed the curve of your chest rather than fell in drapes.
Not until you had shuffled about a foot and a half backwards, enough so that you knew all of you fit in the length of the mirror, did you open your eyes.
You saw the tiredness in the eyes staring back at you. It was a tiredness of trying to make yourself look another way, tiredness to view yourself as enough. Only if you realised and found yourself in the fact that you wouldn't look any other way and that you didn't always need to be enough, maybe that exhaustion would disappear.
A sigh left you while you closed the dresser door to hide the cursed mirror. It was with the same force as you'd done earlier today when you had shut the locker door in the gym without even putting anything in there, choosing to just head back home instead.
You'd wanted to be there at first. But, discouraged by the little mirror in the changing room and the glances received from the already remarkably trained people working out, you suddenly didn't.
You still contemplated the choice. Because you shouldn't have chickened out so quickly. However, home meant that you only were aware of your own intrusive thought, rather than everyone else's judgement too.
Since this morning, your head had felt heavy with thoughts. Throughout the day, though, it had only gotten worse.
It felt like even though you rested, the little voice telling you you should do something was there. Yet, every time you did something, the other voice, the one telling you to stop trying, also whispered in your ear. This was a day you listened to the second, exemplified by your action of fleeing the gym.
So, ever since returning from the short trip outside, you hadn't done much more than lounge around in the apartment you shared with Loki.
The raven god was, for the moment, on yet another mission with the team. Though he'd told you that he wouldn't be gone for more than three days, you hadn't gotten to know much else of the mission. And despite you felt worried every now or then about the lack of information, it was fine. Because early on in your relationship, Loki said he never would hide anything from you if you asked, but he preferred to keep his work and private life as separate as possible.
You respected and understood that. So most times, you settled with the little pieces of information he willingly gave you. Primarily because you could sense his nerves anyway and know how serious the mission was from that. This time around, however, Loki hadn't been worried about the mission, so neither did you feel like you had a reason you should.
Although now, worried or not, you wished he wasn't away on a mission at all. Instead, at home with you.
You would've made the most out of the day, despite how you felt, if Loki was here. Maybe you would've watched some movies, gone out on a walk, or perhaps cook together. It was mundane activities but still things both of you enjoyed. Now though, the only representation of your mischievous partner was his shirt.
You'd nabbed it from Loki's side of the closet in an attempt to calm yourself down from the scent still lingering in the fabric. Only that it resulted in a critical try.
Because not only did it remind you too much of the warmth and presence of him, which made you miss him even more. It had also become the cause of you suddenly staring in the dresser mirror and becoming ever more conscious about yourself.
You hadn't only thought back on the day while standing there, but also the way his shirt fits you. It didn't hang down to your knees, not even the middle of your thighs. It ended halfway over your bottom, like your own shirt with an inch or two added. Thus, if you hadn't worn any tights, you would've walked around just as exposed as if you had worn one of your own shirts.
Even now, when heading from the living room to the kitchen, you looked down at where the shirt ended. The edge brushed along the very top of your thighs. You tried pulling it down a bit, but the fabric simply inched upwards again, making your brows furrow and lips purse.
That was until you heard something.
Your expression changed so that your eyebrows raised and eyes sought out the front-door from which the sound of a lock opening came from. You hadn't made plans with any friends today. Even if you had, they should've knocked, seeing how none of them had a key to your place.
The second you started to worry that it was a break-in, you saw a silhouette you recognised all too well. It was clad in green and gold. The raven hair that touched the tops of his shoulders, nearly blended in with the darker details of the clothing. You started to move before even registering anything more of Loki.
It was with mere moments to spare you noticed the emerald shimmer surround him and remove the armoured parts of his attire before you crashed into his chest.
A little ouf left the god, as he didn't expect the welcoming he got. But that didn't matter, as your arms encircled his neck instinctively. Unable to do anything else than simply stay put a few steps into the foyer, Loki encircled your waist with his arms, face boring into your neck as yours already had done in his.
"You said you wouldn't be home until tomorrow", you mumbled. Knowing he'd heard what you said from the little kiss he gave the side of your neck.
"Well, you know how my brother is, ever as impatient. Sometimes for the better and other times worse, thankfully this time was not the latter", Loki pulled his head out of the crook in your neck to look at you, consequently making you do the same. "Hopefully, you do not mind?"
"Definitely not", you thought you'd said it casually, but the way the raven-haired god tipped his head inclined you hadn't.
"Something wrong, darling?" You gave him a smile and shook your head as you said 'no' while stepping out of his arms. If you would've guessed, you supposed it was the way you retracted from Loki's touch that gave him more than a feeling that you'd lied.
"If there's something wrong, you can tell me", that he even said this made you understand he was aware that you weren't ok. Nevertheless, you saw the exhaustion in his eyes by being away on a mission with the team. He may have been recruited to the Avengers by his brother, rather unwillingly one may add, on the basis that the god of thunder could keep a watchful eye over his brother that way, though he by now had accepted the fact he wouldn't leave.
Yet simply because of this, or that he was a god, didn't mean Loki didn't get tired from the countless missions he was assigned. And it was because of this, you didn't want to burden him with what had weighed you down this whole day.
"I know, Loki", you turned then, starting to head towards your shared bedroom and the bathroom that connected to it to run a bath. However, you weren't even able to suggest that before a hand shot out and wrapped itself around your wrist.
It was enough to make you glance over your shoulder with a raised brow, but not enough to hurt.
"I can see something isn't right and that you feel like you can't tell me", your lip caught between your teeth at the pleading way the raven-haired god looked at you. Still, you didn't say anything, now concerned he would find your worry silly. "Darling, please".
"I-I... why do you want to know? You must be exhausted, go take a shower, or I can tap up a bath for us", you tried smiling to convince him he should think about himself before considering you. Yet, it seemed Loki was as persistent as you at the moment.
"Not until you tell me what's on your mind", he took a step closer, now tugging lightly at where he held your arm so you would turn to him.
"It's n...".
"Do not tell me it is nothing. If not because I am the god of lies, then because I am your lover", he cut off the half-ass excuse you'd tried to use and continued to look at you with the intent of not letting you escape with anything but the truth said. Despite he didn't know you knew you wouldn't have tried anything again, the last part of his sentence striking a nerve that made you sigh.
"This day has just been bad", you finally said. "I-I... it feels like I just need a break from my thoughts. And I know you probably need one too, regarding how messy those missions can get", the god of mischief's lip tugged upwards slightly at this.
"You, my dear, are a break from everything that ever could weigh me down".
"How can I be that", you snapped, hand tearing away from Loki's grip. You didn't know why you reacted like that all of a sudden, probably because what he said rubbed so wrong against everything you thought about yourself today. But it got even worse when you saw the slightly shocked look painting Loki's features. "There's so many more that could fulfil that", you mumbled under your breath, feeling the burn of embarrassment in your chest as you turned to head down the hall and not face him after your little outburst.
Yet you were stopped, once again, by the god when he spun you around to face him. The previous shock had now turned into a furrow between his brows.
"But I do not want more, darling, I simply want you", on good days, you may have smiled and kissed him for those words. Now you just cringed at them while trying to escape the grasp he still had on your hips.
"How could you?" You finally said when realising he wouldn't let go of you, head falling forwards to look down on the floor. "Just...just look at me compared to every other woman you meet. What do I have that they don't?"
There was a silence then, one that made you shut your eyes. You prepared to feel Loki's hands leave you where they still rested on your body, hot and anchoring, though that was not what happened. He did move, but not to take his hands off of you, nor away from you. Instead, his finger hooked under your chin.
Even though you followed his gentle encouragement to tip your head upwards, you didn't open your eyes despite feeling his gaze on you.
"Please darling, open your eyes", he didn't need to coax you any further. "There those pretty gems are", you hadn't even opened them entirely before Loki said this, instantly making you smile. Nevertheless, as if your thoughts today really didn't want you to feel happy, worthy, of his love, the corners of your mouth tipped downwards when remembering he still hadn't answered your question.
As if sensing, if not plainly seeing, the change, Loki's brows furrowed. You tried holding his gaze but felt you were unable to do so, which in the end, made you avert your eyes.
What you couldn't know was that your display had made Loki realise something did really bother you today and that the topic of the conversation held moments earlier, maybe a reflection of that.
Suddenly you felt how the touch at your left hip disappeared, to be sensed once more when it rested against your cheek. You were unable not turn towards the god of mischief with wide eyes at his gesture. However, as you once more looked at him, you saw nothing of the playfulness that often accompanied him, just a seriousness as he looked at you.
"You asked what you have compared to what others don't", he began, thumb stroking the apple of your cheek. "You have the ability to calm me like no other. You have a beauty incomparable to anyone else. You have my hearth", you felt a flutter in your chest as Loki's hand trailed from your face down to your waist, only to there pull you close to him, simply waiting for your answer.
Yet, for the moment, you were at a loss of words. Not only by what the god of mischief said. But what you realised and was constantly reminded of when being pressed against him. You'd never needed to crane your neck, nor did Loki need to bend down for the matter, to look each other in the eye.
"B-but how can I have all that?" Your voice was small as the question nearly trembled from your lips.
"Midgard is so harsh and stale that it does not care about anything more than looks. One needs to find softness and in order to do that, one needs to look further than the surface. If people simply choose to do that, they would find so many more like you", the flutter travelled further and further from your chest. Slowly like molasses, the doubt dripped off of your bones for butterflies to instead settle on them. But the dark and sticky liquid stubbornly didn't want to withdraw completely.
"Earth may be like that, Loki, but you aren't from here", you began, fingers twitching against the Asgardian attire, his signum, that he still wore. "You've told me how beautiful the eternal world is, so I know your standard of beauty, like so many other things, are so much higher than mine and everyone else's".
"Asgard is filled with beauty", the raven-haired god nodded, a smirk tugging the side of his mouth. For some reason, it made those butterflies feel like they drowned in the molasses. Because what else than far greater memories than what he's created with you could accompany such a gesture? Apparently, something entirely else, you realised as he continued. "Yet you, my darling, wouldn't fit there because your beauty out-shines all of what already exists. And do you know why none can see this? Because no-one can watch the sun for too long before getting burned".
"But you still do you", you stated incredulously. Thus why, if using Loki's own words, would he do something that hurt him. However, being ever the observant person he was, he caught your doubt. Which made him shake his head and chuckle.
"You seem to forget I am a god, no mere human or simple Asgardian", directly after he stated thus, Loki did something that made you squeal, in both surprise and worry.
His arms tightened around your waist and lifted you, high enough your feet dangled off the floor and your face was a few inches above his. You almost panicked, imagining you were too heavy for him, but you didn't find anything that displayed such strain in his face. And then any caution disappeared as he twirled you around.
A giggle fell from your lips as you felt the air around you shift with Loki's action. You felt light when nearly all thoughts from earlier seemingly were flung out of your mind and even stayed away when he gently set you down again. His firm chest still pressed into your soft one.
"Just think about it, darling, you need a god to love you for someone to find your true beauty. Does not that show how worthy of love you are if no other person can stand beside you and call you theirs", your smile didn't die down this time as you gazed at him.
"I suppose I must agree with said god", you didn't get more time to witness his smirk turn into a smile before his head tilted forward and his forehead came to rest against yours.
"You never must, but oh how honoured I would be if you did".
#loki x reader#loki x female reader#loki x tall!reader#loki x chubby!reader#loki x overweight!reader#loki x reader fanfic#loki fanfic#loki fanfiction#loki fluff#fluff#might be triggering#triggering themes#angst#loki request#request#loki x reader fluff#marvel#MCU#MCU fic#MCU loki#fanfic#fanfiction
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Half-Priced Chocolate
Words = 2.8k
Summary = You hate Valentine’s Day. Nick tries to change your mind.
Warnings = One swear word
A/N = Reader is described as a similar height to Nick, and taller when she wears heels. Also I didn’t mean to write this, it just sort of happened so sorry if it’s not very well thought out ahaha
Posted to AO3
Masterlist
***
“You know, I’d pegged you as the type of girl who would do anything to ensure she had a Valentine’s date.” This observation comes casual as anything from your boss, Mayor Wasicsko, as the two of you work together to build beds in the town hall.
A combination of a lot of snow, an early thaw, and then rain, had resulted in flooding all around the city, many having to be relocated. And so here you were, on a night that most were celebrating with their loved one across an over-priced bottle of champagne, some heart-shaped chocolate and probably something red themed, in the town hall, setting up extra accommodation with Nick.
Who you should probably call Mayor Wasicsko in your head.
You’d been here for hours, first building the beds with other volunteers, all of whom had melted away as the night had gone on. All, apart from you and Nick.
“Yeah? Well I pegged you as the type of mayor to sit on his ass all day.” You snipe back, not thinking for a moment, before slapping a hand to your mouth in horror. “Sorry, Mayor Wasicsko, that was really unprofessional of me-”
You stopped your rambling, because … was he laughing?
You flip your end of the sheet the two of you are attempting to fit to the bed, successfully causing his end to yank out of his hands, flying up and causing enough of a breeze to dislodge his hair enough for a strand to flop onto his forehead.
Not that you’d noticed.
“I told you, call me Nick. And it’s ok,” he’s still smiling, annoyingly. “I just - you don’t have some annoyed boyfriend who’s sitting at home waiting for you?”
You shake your head. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no.” You finally tuck in the corner of the sheet at the top of the bed and move to the bottom. “And anyway, I hate Valentine’s.”
Nick throws you a pillow and a case when you hold your arms out. “So you hate love? And happiness?”
You roll your eyes at him, busy stuffing the case, leaving him to struggle with the duvet, gathering the new sheets for the next bed as you talk. “No. I just … I hate the commercialisation of it.”
You wait for Nick to finish with the duvet, before attempting the next bed. “It’s like … so what? If my hypothetical boyfriend doesn’t get me flowers, and chocolate and some shitty card on this one specific day of the year, he doesn’t love me?” You scoff. “No thanks.”
Nick tucks in his corner, thinking about his response. “I think it reminds people to be thankful for the people they love.” Oh God he’s one of those. As if he hasn’t managed to drop in the fact that he’s woefully single for the last two hours whenever the opportunity arose.
“Only romantic love,” you remind him. “And,” you continue, remembering more and more reasons. “It’s all over-priced anyway, and it’s just so couples can feel smug while they walk hand in hand down the street, trying to get a table to a restaurant, where the prices have been upped for two people, and so single people, specifically women, can feel shit about themselves?”
You harrumph again, handing Nick the other end of the sheet. “There is good about it though.” He’s looking at you differently, and you’re not sure how, but maybe it’s because you’re having the first real conversation with him tonight, despite having worked for him for the last year.
You’d talked before, of course, but it usually had something to do with politics, Nick ducking out of his office to ask your opinion on something, before returning back to his phone and papers. It had never been a two-way conversation like this, never nothing to do with either of your jobs.
You raise an eyebrow, tucking in your corners as you wait for him to make his point. “What about the half-priced chocolate the next day?” And … he nearly has you. Until you remember a counter-argument.
“So it’s back to its normal price?”
Nick looks at you like he’s never seen you before in your life. But he changes tack, which you take to mean that you’ve won that particular battle.
“And what’s wrong with celebrating love? Even-” He anticipates your response before you do, “-if it is just romantic love?” He grabs the pillow before you can, leaving you to struggle with the duvet this time.
You’re smiling now, unable to help yourself, as you watch the Mayor of Yonkers, of all people, pick up a pile of bedding. He looks good like this, you think, shirt rolled up to his forearms, collar open, tie left behind somewhere with his jacket. Not that he doesn’t normally look good.
You’ve become more relaxed too, you can feel it, as though every bed that the two of you have completed has shod you of another layer, making you feel lighter. Your heels are by the door, and you are a similar height to Nick without them, which you’ve never noticed before, either being taller than him, or sitting in his presence. There’s something weird about it, but also nice, in a domestic sort of way, as your stocking feet pad around the beds, occasionally catching on the wooden floor. You hope you don’t get a hole. Or worse, a ladder.
But you know it’s your mind which has relaxed the most. Allowing you first to smile at his jokes, then joke back, the tension in your shoulders melting away. And now this. A deep conversation. Which you suppose was bound to happen, the two of you alone after the last volunteer had called it a night at 1am and gone home. But love? Really?
“There’s nothing wrong with celebrating love. It’s just forced, somehow. Like you’re a bad person for not doing it, just because of some long-dead guy who’s now in our calendar.” You finish your duvet, and move to help Nick.
“I think you’re wrong.” And maybe it’s the way he says it, like it’s the most simple thing in the world. “I think it makes sure that people take a breath and appreciate what they have.”
He looks so hopeful, you stop the scoff in your throat, instead letting yourself consider his point. “Well it doesn’t matter, it’s …” You pause and check your watch, blinking in surprise. “Fuck. It’s four in the morning. It’s not Valentine’s Day anymore.”
And then you look up. Properly.
There’s one bed left. You turn around, admiring all the made-up beds. Ok they could be neater, but so what?
“Well.” You turn back to look at Nick as he speaks. “Do you want to take advantage of those sales, or not?”
You blink at him, even as he gestures at you to take the other end of the sheet, unsure if you’re dreaming now.
***
When you exit the town hall, the sky is the cool blue of pre-dawn. Grey clouds still hang, heavy and angry over Yonkers, a precursor of the rain to come. It’s been a cold night, a glimmer of frost on the ground, but you can already feel that it won’t last the day.
You yawn, rubbing your eyes with one hand, while your other holds your heels. Nick’s thrown his blazer over one shoulder, the tie hanging out of his trouser pocket. “C’mon.” Is all he says as he walks towards his car.
It takes a second for your brain to engage. “What?” Your voice has become hoarse from a lack of sleep.
“Can I show you something?” And how can you say no, when he leans against the car roof with one arm, opening the door for you, and looking like that?
Inside the car it’s warm, and tiredness sinks down on you until you can hardly keep your eyes open. Nick only asks for your address, which you give him, and then you’re asleep. You wake when he stops the car on the high street, but fall back asleep when he tells you he just needs to pick up some groceries.
You don’t wake up when he comes back, nor do you wake up when he sets off again. You open your eyes when he gently shakes your shoulder. The sky is much brighter now, the sun peeking over the horizon and you blink, looking at your watch. It’s nearly 7. Which means Nick let you sleep for 2 hours. It takes a second for your surroundings to fall into place, green and brown surrounding you.
Nick’s sitting next to you in the driver’s seat. And in the back seat are his groceries.
You blink again. Harder this time.
Praying your makeup isn’t smudged all down your cheek, you move to sit up straighter, where you’d fallen asleep against the window. “What … where are we?”
Nick doesn’t answer until he’s grabbed one of the bags, clambering out and opening your door for you. “We are in one of the city’s finest parks.” He announces, using his Official Mayor Voice.
As far as you can tell, it’s a pretty basic park. The only notable point is the view. You can see the full scrawl of Yonkers below you, as the sun rises to your right, still fighting the storm clouds left over from yesterday. Funny. You’d heard there was going to be more rain.
As you step out of the car, you put your heels back on, and wince a little. Nick hands you a blanket to carry and sets off towards a clear area without too many trees, and you follow him, spreading the blanket for the two of you to sit on. Nick’s put his blazer back on and you try not to be disappointed, reminding yourself that he’s your boss.
He places the bag between you, and … it’s stuffed with half price Valentine themed food. Chocolates, champagne, even a small teddy. You can’t help it. You let out a laugh as the two of you sit next to each other, the bag between you.
“I never knew the Mayor would be a cheapskate.” You’re only half-serious, and you think Nick knows this, catching the glint in his eye as he replies.
“You’d rather I bought you this full price?”
You shake your head, grinning, but confused on the inside. You must be tired. Hearing that the Mayor, your boss, wants to buy you something for Valentine’s? You must be misinterpreting this.
“And I’ll have you know, that everything in this bag came to less than what it would be in a normal month.” He winks and you groan, theatrical and over the top.
So instead you open the chocolate, grabbing the first one you see and popping it in your mouth. “Nice though,” you mumble, without having swallowed your mouthful, savouring the sweetness of it as it coats your tongue, eyes closing as you lean back on the blanket, missing the way Nick looks down at you.
“Yeah? Worth every cent, aren’t they?” You smile, shaking your head.
“Yes, Nick.” You finally sigh, giving in. “Worth every half-price cent.” You squint open an eye, waiting for his reaction, glad when he laughs, propping yourself up onto your elbows so you don't fall asleep again. And then you look down, and your eye catches on a bottle of champagne.
You reach for it, twirling it on the ground. “So Nick, seeing as how you’re the Mayor and my boss,” you start, sure you’re going to get what you ask for, “and we worked all night long, can we have today off?”
You look at Nick to see him watching your face, amused at the long winded way you’re going about this. Finally he nods. “Yeah I think we deserve the day off.”
You grin widely then, sitting up properly with a burst of energy, and pop the cork. You take the first sip straight from the bottle, leaving a small ring of lipstick behind. You use your thumb to wipe it off before passing it over, the bubbles still tingling on your tongue, washing away the chocolate.
Nick takes a healthy swig as soon as his hand is wrapped around the cool bottle, and you can’t help but watch the way his throat bobs when he swallows, wiping at a drop that escapes his mouth.
You turn to the rest of the bag to distract yourself. There’s at least 3 boxes of chocolate, a pack of strawberries, and a small bear. All of them have the tell tale yellow half-price stickers in clear view. You pull out the bear, amused. “He’s cute.”
Nick hands the bottle back to you, running a hand through his hair. “Got a name for him?”
You think about it for a minute, before deciding. “Arthur the Fourth.” And you place Arthur at the bottom of the blanket, so he’s looking at the two of you.
Nick frowns, looking between the two of you. “The Fourth?”
You laugh, biting on another chocolate. “Yeah. Throughout my childhood, I have had three other teddies, all named Arthur. He will be the fourth.”
“And you lost them all?”
“No, I still have Arthur the Third.” You wash the chocolate down with another sip of champagne, and when you go to scrub away your lipstick again, Nick’s hand stops you. He shakes his head, like he’s having a secret conversation within your public one.
“Shame to hear about the first two though.” You let him take the bottle from you, watching as he - his mouth - touches your lipstick. You can feel your heart rate raise, thumping inside your chest like a drum. You can still feel the ghost of his hand, warm where it touched yours.
You look down on Yonkers again, unable to cope. “Yeah, well. It’s how it happens in real life, I guess.”
The two of you fall silent as the sun climbs pathetically further and further, finally disappearing behind angry storm clouds. Conversation is quiet observations, both of you feeling wrapped up in a bubble of tiredness.
You lie back down, ignoring how the cold of the ground is seeping through the blanket now and closing your eyes as you take a chocolate from the box which you intend to be your last, and you can hear Nick’s smirk when he talks. “Chocolate’s not too bad then?”
You just hum, pretending to think about it. “Yeah not bad,” you finally agree, opening your eyes and turning your head to watch Nick as he leans back on his hands, “But it’s not Valentine’s day so you haven’t changed my mind …”
And Nick’s looking at you like that again, and you could never in a million years anticipate his next question. “So you wouldn’t count this as the best Valentine’s Day date you’ve ever been on?”
You freeze, what? You decline in that moment to mention that it’s the only Valentine’s date you’ve ever even been on, and you also choose to ignore that it’s not Valentine’s Day anymore, shaking your head. You can’t quite believe what you’re about to say, heart beating faster than normal, blood thrumming in your ears. “I would count it as the best date I’ve been on.”
And then you’re laughing at the look of shock on his face, quickly stopping when he ducks down to kiss you.
Nick, your boss, the mayor of Yonkers, is kissing you.
It takes you a second to respond, shock freezing you where you lie. But then your hands are on his neck, pulling him back down over you as he deepens the kiss, tongue exploring your mouth. His forearm is resting on the blanket next to your head, supporting his bodyweight, his other hand cupping your cheek. His moustache is tickling you slightly, but you don’t care.
He tastes sweet, from the chocolate. But then, you can taste the bubbles from the champagne, you can taste how cold it was, you can taste the birds chirping in the trees above you, and you can taste how warm the sun’s rays felt five minutes ago.
It’s perfect.
Until the clouds open above you.
It starts gently, and you don’t feel it at first, and when you do, you ignore it, more interested in snogging Nick. Your feet are becoming wet quickly and the rain falls in large drops.
Nick’s the first one to pull away, and you follow him, chasing his lips with your own, not wanting to open your eyes. When you do, you realise your feet are wet from the bottle of champagne falling over, and Arthur’s looking to be in danger of rolling away.
You can feel the rain on your head, and the drops are falling faster. You snatch Arthur and the now-empty bottle up, Nick scrambling to get everything back in the bag. At the last second, you ball up the blanket, ignoring how it brings half the floor with it, and the two of you run towards Nick’s car, laughing as the rain soaks the pair of you.
***
Thanks for reading! Reblog and comments mean the world to me 🥰🥰🥰
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Let No Man Steal Your Thyme - (older Dramione), Part Four
Well, here’s part four for you! It’s really just part three continued, but since I didn’t want the previous part to be 7k words or so long, I split it up. The total wordcount is 12.4k words now!!
Thank you very much to those of you who’ve commented and sent me lovely owls on here to let me know you’re enjoying it! (this is a sideblog for me, so I don’t respond to comments on posts, but I do answer asks as Cashmere).
I know a lot of folks (me included) don’t like starting to read WIPs that are unfinished, so thanks to those of you who have hopped on now. Consider yourselves honoured beta readers! It’ll go up on AO3 when it’s all posted on here and completed.
No real warnings for this one, just some discussion of their past relationships (for both Hermione and Draco) before the plot thickens and things warm up a bit in part five. Not sure when that’ll go up - it kind of depends on how much feedback I get on this one I guess! Comments and reblogs feed an author’s muse after all.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three
___
At her wry smile and tiny shrug, Malfoy laughed, apparently reassured. “A little,” he repeated softly to himself under his breath.
After a heartbeat she shot him a sidelong look and added, “You’ve changed so much, Draco. I can hardly believe it, but it’s clear as day.”
He did a little double take at the sound of his name on her lips, and then he smiled. It was such a tiny, fragile melting of his expression that she nearly missed it.
“I mean it,” she said, tightening her fingers on his steel-cable forearm for a fraction of a second. “I don’t know if it was the war or your marriage, or becoming a father, or something else entirely, but… you’re not the same person you were back at Hogwarts. Not at all.”
“Thank fuck for that,” he hissed. “I had a hell of a lot of growing up to do. I think I did ninety percent of it in the space of sixth year. But Astoria helped steady me after… after Hogwarts and all the bollocks and bullshit of the aftermath of… of… you know.”
“‘Bollocks and bullshit’ is a mighty casual way to say ‘a short stay in Azkaban and three years of house arrest’, Malfoy. That’s got to change a person, for sure.”
He shrugged. “I’m just glad it’s all in the past now. For the most part, anyway.” The silence that followed spoke volumes of the baggage that they were all still hauling around with them, of one kind or another.
They wound their way across the park’s pathways with no particular direction in mind. As the glittering waters of the Serpentine drew into view in the deepening dusk, she murmured, “I’m glad you came tonight.”
“Me too,” he said, voice little more than a low rumble above the sussurating wind in the trees. “Theo seemed on fine form, and it was nice to see Pans again. It’s been a few months. Longbottom looks good too,” he added as an afterthought. “He grew into himself, didn’t he?”
“Mmm,” she nodded. “Never would have called his and Pansy’s relationship though. I thought she went for the bad boys like you and Blaise…”
Malfoy snorted. “I’m a ‘bad boy’ now, am I? That’s an interesting spin on my past.”
“Maybe not so much ‘bad boy’ now as ‘grumpy reclusive Mr. Rochester’. How about that?”
“He one of your Muggle heroes?” he asked without sting.
“Yeah. He’s Jane Eyre’s leading male. A bad-tempered rich man who has a big house in the middle of nowhere and a secret deranged wife in the attic.”
“Well, I hit three out of the four criteria…” he said and Hermione’s heart lurched as she remembered he wasn’t a bachelor but a widower.
“Shit, Draco, I’m sorry,” she said. “That was thoughtless of me.”
He shook his head, the silver hair of his forelock tossing about as he chuckled, an entirely unfamiliar sound which she decided she wanted to hear again almost immediately. “It’s fine, Granger. You haven’t got a malicious bone in your body. Besides, it was a long time ago.”
They came naturally to a halt in front of the man-made lake and stared out at the lapping water for a time before she uncoupled her grip from his arm and shucked her coat back on.
That done, she drew in a deep breath and paused, leaning her forearms on the back of a cast-iron bench overlooking a flock of huddled, plastic pedalo boats moored up offshore. Malfoy remained a pace behind her, back straight as an arrow, his hands tucked into his pockets now that she was no longer hanging onto him.
A fair few Muggles were out and about, some walking lazily as she and Draco had been, others pounding along the pavement on their evening run, and a good number were walking dogs. The sheer mundanity of it all struck her deeply for a moment and her breath caught in her throat.
“Granger?” he asked in a soft voice.
She straightened and turned to look back at him over her shoulder. “I was just thinking how close we came to losing all of this… Sometimes it seems like a million years ago, and others…”
“Like yesterday,” he finished a beat later. His eyes glittered in the half-light, pale lashes ghostly and ethereal, and in the dark, his pupils were wide and black and inviting.
“Let’s keep going, hmm?” she chirped.
In fact, he walked her all the way back to her rather modest apartment in Muggle London. “You didn’t want to live closer to work at the bookshop?” he asked as she fumbled for her very ordinary, Muggle keys with half-frozen fingers.
Giving up, she murmured a quick ‘alohomora’ and pressed her hand to the extra ward she had placed on it. “I’ve lived here since I moved out of the house with Ron. Never seen any point in looking for something bigger or whatever. It’s cosy, and it’s just me anyway. You want to come in? I’ll have to tweak the wards if you do.”
“I… I don’t want to be a bother,” he said, his expression pinching.
“No bother. It’s a three minute job, if that.”
He looked torn, teetering on the edge of a refusal, but as she swept her curls back out of her face and blinked up at him, he seemed to waver, and finally he nodded. “Alright. Yes please.”
“Stay put. I’ll be right back,” she said, and left the door open so that he wouldn’t feel like a stray dog shut out in the cold.
After setting her bag and coat down on a sofa in the main living room, she stood and centred herself, reaching for the wards with her magic. They thrummed reassuringly as she wove a slightly different pattern into them, allowing Draco Malfoy to come and go, and then she released the magic once again.
“Ok!” she called to him and he stepped tentatively inside, shutting the door with a polite click behind him and levering off his fancy dragonhide Oxfords at the doormat.
There was something so intimately sweet about seeing him pad across the fake-wooden lino of her living room floor in his dark socks that she couldn’t help grinning.
“Those are some powerful wards you’ve got up,” he commented as he blinked curiously around the room.
“Hangover from the Ministry days, I suppose. Plus this is technically a Muggle building, so I can’t have anyone noticing anything strange. There’s another witch here, up on the seventh floor, but we don’t see each other often. You want something to drink? I’ve got tea or coffee, and a small selection of wine, though nothing nearly as nice as what Theo has on tap…”
He smiled. “A tea would be lovely.”
She ducked out into the tiny galley kitchen and lost herself in the simple task of filling and boiling the Muggle kettle. She turned to find Malfoy leaning his shoulder against the door frame, hands cupped under opposite elbows, watching her with that owl-like intensity again.
“Muggle kitchen,” she grinned almost sheepishly. “Magic is great for a lot of things, but some routines just can’t be beaten.” Ron had always hated and mistrusted things like electric kettles and refrigerators, not quite fully understanding the way it grounded her in her Muggle upbringing.
“I’m not judging you,” he said, voice low and slightly hoarse. “I’m just interested. Do you mind?”
“No,” she said, fishing in the cupboard for her selection of teabags. She held the cardboard box open for him to select one and her eyebrows rose when he chose a delicate mint and chamomile one, but she offered no comment. “I can give you a masterclass in using Muggle kitchens if you like.”
His lips pulled back into a broad, dazzling smile and he laughed. “Go on then.”
“Fridge,” she said, opening it and showing him. “Keeps things cold; powered by electricity. Freezer, keeps things, well, frozen…” She continued her tour while the tea steeped, and by the time she was done, the tea was ready and they made their way back out into the humble living room, with a second-hand sofa and a battered old coffee table with more ringed coffee-stains on than visible surface.
Her stomach rumbled and he raised an eyebrow at her.
“I didn’t get a chance to eat anything yet, other than nibbles at Theo’s,” she cringed.
“Don’t let me stop you having something for supper then,” he said.
“I’m not going to scoff a freezer dinner on my own while you sit there and watch me,” she blurted, laughing. “Unless you want to join me? I’ve got a couple of pizzas in the freezer. Nothing fancy, but they’ll be ready in twenty minutes or so if I put the oven on now.”
Malfoy looked like he’d missed something somewhere but was too embarrassed to ask, so he just said, “Pizza? Sure. The last time I had pizza was when I took Scorpius to Rome.”
“Well,” she said, setting her mug down on the table and heading into the kitchen. Over her shoulder, she called, “I can guaranteed these won’t be nearly as good as those were, but they’re pretty tasty. I think they’re both chicken and pesto - is that alright?”
“Perfectly.”
Oven on, she returned and folded herself into the squashy armchair which sat at right angles to the sofa, tucking one leg up beneath her and drawing the other foot up beside her. Malfoy, of course, sat like he was about to take tea with the Queen, while she felt like a pretzel on a shelf. A comfy pretzel though, she thought as she reached for her mug.
“I’m glad we walked back,” she said after a moment. “I can’t believe I worked myself up into such a tizzy over Ron like that. It’s so childish…”
Malfoy sipped his tea and then cradled it between his long, pale fingers for a moment. “What happened between you two? I thought you three were —”
“— the ‘Golden Trio’?” she purred, voice laden with sarcasm.
He made a conciliatory gesture with his head but said nothing more.
She sighed. “We were. I mean, Harry and I are still super close - I’m James’ godmother after all. Ginny’s the sister I never had, but something went wrong with Ron somewhere along the line.” She knew exactly what the final blow had been, but there had been a myriad other issues on both sides before that. “I think… I think he felt like he never had a real niche, you know? He was always second fiddle to Harry in the heroics and quidditch departments, and, well, everyone knows I was the brains of the trio,” she said self-effacingly. “That’s not to say that he’s stupid — he’s not.”
Malfoy scoffed at that, and for a moment she saw the petulant, petty little thirteen year old he had once been. A deeply sceptical look filled his eyes, and he looked like he was physically biting his tongue to keep himself from disagreeing with her.
“No, really,” she scowled. “He just makes stupid, split-second decisions without thinking anything through. I’m not defending what he did or how he behaved at the end of our marriage, but…” she sighed heavily and drank a mouthful of too-hot tea that scalded her throat on its way down. “He’s in a pretty good place now with Lavender. We just… rub each other up the wrong way, even now I think.”
“Theo said he was being an arsehole earlier,” Malfoy pushed.
She shrugged. “A bit. I think he carries a lot of bitterness towards…” she gestured vaguely in Malfoy’s direction, “… Slytherins? I’m not really sure. Stupid house prejudices that a lot of witches and wizards clearly never get over. As if one moment in our history defines us for the rest of our lives, or as if we’re limited to the characteristics of the house we were sorted into at the age of eleven… It’s just so fucking dumb, Malfoy!”
He laughed softly at that.
“What? You don’t agree?”
“No, I absolutely agree with you. I was enjoying hearing you swear, that’s all. Forgive me.”
She flushed and looked away, anger leaving her as swiftly as it had come. “Ron has a lot of insecurities, and a few of them centre around me, but… I guess I just wasn’t enough for him in the end.”
“How could you possibly be ‘not enough’ for someone, Granger?” Draco asked in a hoarse whisper. “And you were the bloody Minister for Magic for Merlin’s sake…! What more did he want from his witch? Morgana herself reincarnated?”
She laughed long and loud at that, and Malfoy seemed to relax a little in the wake of his little outburst. “My reign was very short though,” she said as she stood and took the opportunity to put the pizzas in the oven. When she returned, she asked carefully, “What about you and Astoria?”
“What about us?” he asked, voice even and steady, though his eyes swirled softly like Trelawney’s crystal balls, hiding their secrets behind a shifting sheen of silver.
“Were you happy?”
Malfoy’s eyes slid away from her to stare unseeing at a point across the room, and he sat back against the sofa cushions, still nursing his cheap, Tesco mug between his hands.
“Yes,” he said eventually. “For the most part we were. It wasn’t… earth-shattering or anything, but it was pretty good, all things considered. It was arranged by our families, you know?”
She nodded.
“I knew Astoria’s older sister, Daphne, far better than I knew her, but Daph promised to an Austrian count already. He’s actually very nice. I’m glad for her.”
“I vaguely remember Daphne from school, but I didn’t have many classes with her as we got older.”
“I’d met Astoria a few times before it was all formally arranged, but even then, we only met a total of perhaps five or six times before the wedding proper. It wasn’t the huge event my mother had always dreamed of throwing for me, but with my father in Azkaban and me under house arrest, the mood wasn’t really there, you know?”
Hermione did some quick maths and realised he must have been only nineteen or so when he’d been married, and her eyes widened. She’d only been twenty-two when Ron and she had tied the knot, but still, that struck her as very young. Scorpius hadn’t been born straight away though, and there had been vicious gossip about blood-curse-related infertility until the little mandrake had arrived. Hermione been about to make the leap to Minister at the incredibly tender age of twenty five when the attack on the Manor had taken place, and Scorpius had been mere months old at the time.
“Toria and I grew to know each other better,” Draco went on, “And in time, I think we came to love each other, in our own way. She certainly adored Scorpius before the blood curse took her.”
“What was she like?” Hermione asked in a whisper.
Again, Malfoy sighed and closed his eyes with his head tipped back to rest against the sofa cushions. “Quiet, intelligent, articulate, easy-going most of the time, but when she got passionate about something, she could be pretty stubborn. Scorpius inherited a lot of that from her.”
“He looks like you though,” she said. “I mean… almost exactly like you did at that age. It gave me quite the turn when I saw the two of you on Platform 9 3/4 you know?”
He smirked and cracked an eye open. “Tell me about it,” he said. “Mother is always calling him ‘Draco’ instead of ‘Scorpius’. It drives him nuts.”
They shared a laugh at that. “Your mother lives with you at the Manor then?”
“Yes and no,” he said, shuffling a little and getting comfy again, relaxing his torso more casually against the arm of the sofa at last. “She moved out of the main manor when Toria and I married. Now she lives at what we affectionately call the Dower House. Officially it’s called Nightshade Cottage.”
“Ominous name,” she said and he smiled again.
“Apt though. There’s a rambling, stone-walled potion-garden round the back of it, full of all sorts of interesting plants, and a stunning rose garden at the front. It’s really beautiful in spring, and rather potent in summer.”
“You make it sound almost welcoming,” she said without thinking and he huffed a dry laugh.
“Parts of the estate really are lovely, Granger; its sordid past notwithstanding.”
When the beeper went on the timer, Malfoy jumped and looked confused, but she laughed and showed him. She did use her wand to cut up the pizzas though, and by the time they were seated back on the sofas with plates in their lap, they resumed their easy talk as if they’d never been interrupted. Watching Malfoy in his fancy clothes and eating pizza with his hands was almost too much for Hermione to bear, but if she focused on his voice too much instead, she found herself mesmerised on that front too. Who’d have thought that Hermione Granger would have found herself growing more and more attracted to Draco Malfoy all these years later.
Long after they’d finished eating, they spoke a little more of Scorpius, and how Malfoy guessed he was getting on after his first week at school. “Of course, he hasn’t written to me yet, but I’m hoping he might pen something this weekend…”
“You worry about him, don’t you?”
“Constantly,” he snorted. “One of the burdens of being a father, I suppose.”
“Of being a good one,” she amended, and she didn’t miss the way he swallowed thickly and blinked his glassy eyes rapidly a few times.
Then he sighed expansively and then levered himself to his feet. “It’s late, Granger, and I should probably be going. I’ve got a meeting to get to early tomorrow morning in Scotland, and I still have a bit of paperwork to do tonight.”
“But it’s the weekend, Malfoy,” she said as she rose too. “You can’t have to work, surely?”
He nodded and shrugged, but made his way to the door and slid his feet back into his shoes without further comment or explanation.
A little, fluttering, doxy-wing cloud of nerves shimmered to life in her chest as they stood face to face at the door. Malfoy swallowed again and hitched a tiny, lopsided smile. “Thanks for tonight, Granger. And…” he faltered and shook his head. “Yeah,” he said roughly. “Thank you.”
“I feel like I should be thanking you,” she said. “You got me out of my funk and walked me safely home.” She ran her fingers through her mass of curls and didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered to watch the movement before he blinked and turned away to open the door, clearing his throat.
With his fingers still on the handle, he paused and looked back over his shoulder. “My pleasure, Granger. Sincerely.”
Hermione barely managed to offer him a watery smile before he was striding off down the corridor.
She lingered in the doorway long after his footsteps had faded down the stairwell — apparently using the Muggle lift alone had proved too daunting for him. After she locked the door and recharged the wards behind her, she picked up his empty plate and mug to put them in the dishwasher.
As she passed the dresser that had once belonged to her mother, she caught sight of a moving photograph of Crookshanks. The half-kneazel was staring at the flat’s front door with his yellow, lamp-like eyes wide. “What do you think of him now, huh Crooks?” she asked the photo. “Bit different, eh?”
Photo-Crookshanks purred and circled in the bottom corner of the frame a few times, bottle-brush tail twitching, before returning to his fireplace and curling up with a look of contentment on his face. God, she missed that cat.
“Yeah. I think I like him too, Crooks,” she said. “Merlin help me, but I think I like him too.”
.
Part Five
___
I’ve only written all 12,410 words of this because people told me they liked it, otherwise it’d have stayed on whatever the first chapter was, so if you want more, let me know with a reblog! Feel free to send me an anonymous owl too if you’re more comfortable doing that.
Anyway, take care, and more soon, I hope. I’ve got a fair chunk plotted out, and it should take us up to Christmas in the storyline (it’s September now for them).
writing masterlist | Ao3
#dramione#dramione fic#older dramione#draco malfoy x hermione granger#hermione granger x draco malfoy#draco x hermione#draco x hermione fic
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hello again lia! i know i'm particularly early, but i have the time, so i decided why not reply now rather than later? (seize the day, i guess!)
ok, i come bearing more questions, so i'll put them here and reply to your other questions below this section!:
1. what's the story behind your profile picture? is there any story behind it? or is just some randomly chosen photo?
2. what made you decide to write for victor? and why is he your favorite mlqc guy? (wait, is he??)
3. on the topic of fanfic, have you ever worked on a project as big as this before for another fandom? or is mlqc the first fandom you've written for?
4. do you have a favorite singer?
5. what language do you think is the most romantic?
6. what's your favorite season and why?
7. do you like cheesecake? (it's my favorite dessert! 😋)
1 & 2. speaking of desserts, i hope (i know, actually) that your cake turned out well and your daughter enjoyed it! i don't know if i've ever had that kind of cake before, but i'm down for any kind of dessert honestly. also, walking in the rain without an umbrella sounds so amazing??? like i've never considered it before, but now that you mention it...it does certainly sound appealing. i definitely added that to "the list of things i need to do before i die" list.
3. also your pets' names are so adorable!!! 🥺 very unique, but adorable. as someone with five (5) cats, the best advice i could give you is to remember that every cat has its own personality, so they all have different likes and dislikes. rescue cats in my opinion are a bit more sensitive...just give him some time to adjust to his new life!
4. you certainly know your way around good authors! i enjoy paulo coelho too! although i don't read that much fiction anymore myself (because i'm so busy doing other things...and also i've realized i used to use it as an escape from the real world), i read on ao3 in some of my spare time!
5. i didn't know you play guitar! i'm not much of a music person (besides listening to music, i can't play any instrument), but maybe i'll pick up guitar because of you ✨
6. OMGG i love the idea of growing pains being a manga!! even if it's just a few parts! i know my way around drawing a bit, so the best advice i can give you is to just go with it! don't be scared of the page! once you put your pencil on paper, you've already made some headway. it's honestly a lot like writing in a way.
the questions i have about the new chapters (and feel free to avoid answering too much because i've read somewhere that when a reader tries to guess where a writer is going with their story, it interrupts their flow a bit):
1. how on earth did victor get back his evol? i mean i'm glad it came back when it did, but i was just wondering. i figured this is something you'll resolve later.
2. is owen an evolver too? i can't remember if you touched on this before, but when victor stopped time, owen didn't freeze either...
3. how did andrea get better so suddenly?? i feel like this is also something you'll resolve later 🤔
i had no idea this ask would turn out to be this long, i hope that's not a problem 😪 but anyways, i'll try to make time to interact with you more often from now on (sometimes i'm busy, sometimes i get so excited you replied that i jump for joy a good amount of hours), so look out for that! goodbye for now, and have a great day! (❁´◡`❁)
- 🌸 anon
Hello dear 🌸 anon!
You did well to seize the day! I'm going to have a particularly tough day at work today, so this will actually help me relax before it, so thank you!
Ok, now to your questions:
1. what's the story behind your profile picture? is there any story behind it? or is just some randomly chosen photo?
There is a story indeed, this is my profile picture for many many years, and it ties to my struggle to overcome my childhood trauma. The sun that you see is what I strive to be: bright, warm, bringing happiness to everyone, shining upon everyone (no distinction). The opposite of my abuser. That sun represents my decision and my promise that I won't become as bitter as they were or tainted by what they have done to me.
2. what made you decide to write for victor? and why is he your favorite mlqc guy? (wait, is he??)
Victor is definitely my favorite, yes. The only other character that I could find interesting would be Lucien, because of his background, but the other two are not really very appealing to me, although they have their strengths.
I started writing about him specifically because, one, I feel he is very misunderstood and there's a lot more to him than his moodiness or money. Two, because I still don't think MC is a good match for him and I wanted him to have someone who could provide him the support he needs. He has been through a lot and needs someone who can understand his particular needs, and sometimes cute dates and quirky actions just won't cut it. Modesty aside, I like Andrea with him because the guy can totally fall apart, and she will have his back and understand him, no matter what. Plus, she will cut through his bull crap and tell him like it is, and he needs it sometimes. But those are my very biased two cents, of course.
3. on the topic of fanfic, have you ever worked on a project as big as this before for another fandom? or is mlqc the first fandom you've written for?
Yes, MLQC is my very first one. It was supposed to be just Growing Pains, and then it grew on its own, and now I have material for 3 more chapters and a spinoff. I wonder if I'll ever tire of Vic and Andy.
4. do you have a favorite singer?
I have been a Freddy Mercury fan since I knew what music was. His genius is incomparable, and I highly doubt anyone can do what he had done for music. As far as female artists go, I love Sara Bareilles, who featured most of my Growing Pains soundtrack.
5. what language do you think is the most romantic?
I know everybody considers french incredibly romantic, but as someone who speaks it daily for work... nah. I think any language can be romantic if well used, to be honest. It's really not about the language, but the feeling you put behind it. But if I had to choose a language to be the most romantic, I would go with body language, the one that doesn't have a dictionary, but carries the weight of a heart.
6. what's your favorite season and why?
My favourite season is Fall. I live in a place that is filled with trees, and their leaves turn red during the Fall, and when they fall I get to play in them with my kids. I love all the colors, the typical things we eat during the Fall in Portugal (like roasted chestnuts and good wine and coffee soft cookies) and I like the weather getting a tad colder, and all the smells that come with it (wet dirt, spices, fireplaces lit for the first time). A close second is Winter, because Christmas.
7. do you like cheesecake? (it's my favorite dessert! 😋)
Good taste, I love cheesecake! I am picky about it, though, there aren't many people here in Portugal who know how to make it properly (mostly they go heavy on the cream and it doesn't have that characteristic taste anymore), so I usually only have it from places I know it's good or when I make it myself. I like either the cold version or the baked version. My family's absolute favourite is Blueberry cheesecake with chocolate and cinnamon crust.
Ok, now to the questions regarding the story... 3 will definitely be discussed in the next chapters. I will explain better question 1 in the next part (Resistance - Love). As for number 2, I can tell you Owen is not an Evolver, he simply didn't stop with the rest of the people because Victor "took" him with him by mistake (in my AU, Victor can choose who freezes with time and who doesn't, except for people with the same Evol as him).
Your questions were really helpful, and they show me I'm making people ask the right questions. Hopefully, the Katsu and Robin story can also draw a nice parallelism and make things clearer as we go.
Again, I can not thank you enough for the time you devote doing this. It seriously makes me feel less alone in this journey and it encourages me to write more and (hopefully) better. I wish you a great week, and my ask box es su ask box. ;) Huge hug and lots of love!
Lia
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Come home to me...Darling
Jimin x Female Reader (+ Jungkook & Mystery Member)
Ao3 Link
Part 2 of 2 (Part 1)
Genre: Cheating!AU, angst, smut (masturbation and fingering, both female), fluff
Warnings: Masturbation, Fingering, Infidelity, Cursing, Sad, Low self esteem, Mentions of a panic attack, Jimin’s a jerk :(
Word Count: 29,555
Summary: Jimin cheats and you try to make him stay. But whatever you do, it’s never enough.
Tag: @some-random-stranger-007
A/N: it is finally out now I can go yeet myself into the lake of fire never to return. Can you believe i almost lost this? ahahahaha the level of clownery. Anyway I hate it, so let me know what you think of it. Thank you to @meuurtrierr it wouldn’t be possible without her. Edited but I know I missed some shit, also I skimped on the warnings cuz i dont remember what else skskssk do let me know babes mwah Enjoy!
Mondays are the worst.
It’s not enough that you needed to skim through the employee evaluation files in the next 2 hours, but a grueling headache had somehow found a way to attach itself into your brain. Even blinking was painful. You weren’t able to do anything but stare at your desk with little to no energy present in your build. There was a dull lull in the room, and you felt suffocated in your stuffy office. When one of the open file’s papers flutters in front of you is when you manage to snap out of dreamland. Peeking at the desk right outside your office, you let out a sigh of relief at finding the space empty. Finally, you could get up and do something about this headache as well as pour some caffeine into your body.
Usually Yura would gleefully grab it for you, but you felt awkward around her since that day and hadn’t asked anything of her since. It was a bit silly, you don’t know why you were avoiding her exactly. Most likely it was due to not trying out her therapist suggestion yet. But it wasn’t like she was forcing you and it also wasn’t that you didn’t want to go…you were just unsure. You were scared. An unfamiliar person, poking and prodding at you – at your life. Finding and pulling out all the faults in you like weed. Judging you. Your habit of overthinking had already made you fit irrational scenarios inside your head of your ‘sessions’ and how awful they would end up being.
This irrationality also embarrassed you and led you into avoiding Yura.
In a nimble pace, you quickly make your way into the center office filled with cubicles. From there you speedily step your way into the breakroom. Thankfully, it was also empty. It wasn’t like coming here wasn’t unusual for you – you had been in here before you were promoted, albeit just a bit. You weren’t the most extroverted person, and people seemed to always be creating some forms of conversation in here. Which scared you into staying in your cubicle until certain timestamps where you found it vacant. Sighing, you walk to the coffee maker in the corner of the room to find it barren, and you heave a groan as you gather your ingredients for coffee. You didn’t want to stay here in case of running into someone, but life was making everything harder for you as usual. Watching as the coffee hits the pot in the coffee maker, you think back to last night.
Jimin never made it back home throughout that whole day. That had become a usual occurrence, but it really hit you hard this time because you were aching to sort things out after the clash you both faced. There was a restless ache in your stomach, which you’re sure was the cause in you turning sick today. Last night you had caught the exact moment Jimin figured out that you knew about him and her, his aura completely morphing into something between docile and tense. After he left, you couldn’t sleep for hours, tossing and turning and just waiting for him to come home. The scene kept replaying in your mind and you kept analyzing certain aspects, wishing you had said something better or acted in a compromising manner rather than driving him away. But then he never showed up and you were too afraid to call him back to you. If you went to voicemail yet again, you felt you would go insane.
Though you pondered where he was with exhausted efforts, a dreadful thought told you that you already knew, you just didn’t want to accept it. You hoped it wasn’t true. That he wouldn’t be with Tina – not after last night. Maybe…he was crashing at Jin’s place? …Wait, why didn’t you think of him sooner? Jin, his best friend since he moved to the city, would know where he is! Friends are considered confidantes, aren’t they? It wouldn’t hurt to inquire s few things from Jin, he was always a sweet man. But you didn’t want to force Jimin back to you or anything of the sort, you just wanted to know if he was ok. Hopefully he’ll realize how much you need him, hopefully he’ll come back home to you on his own accord. You were going to give him some time to think, then he’ll surely be back by that day, right?
Hopefully.
As you pour the coffee into your mug, the door creeks open and a citrusy cologne fills the air which pulls you out of your thoughts as you stiffen. Great. Carefully, you turn to see the culprit to be a tall man yawning loudly and stretching his arms while walking towards you. It alarms you that he’s moving straight at you without even realizing, but you don’t make an effort to move. Which ends up with him crashing into you slightly-
“Oh, whoa,” He says as his eyes fly open and he holds onto the small of your back with his warm hand, “Sorry about that, didn’t notice anyone was here!”
No kidding.
Now that he wasn’t scrunching up his expression, you could properly take in his appearance. He had such a soft and youthful face, big doe eyes that seemed to be lit with stars. Everything about him was so round, his nose, his cheeks, his small mouth. Jet black hair covered his forehead and compared to his boyish features, the muscles protruding from his white button up were anything but soft. You felt bad for his shirt, which was straining to hold itself together. There was a small scar on his left cheek, yet another mark amplifying his young features. He seemed to be observing you as well, his eyes a tad bit larger and his hand still on your back.
You clear your throat and straighten your back, looking away from him to the floor.
Breaking out of his daze he retracts his hand immediately, “Oh, sorry!”
That’s when he notices the mug in your hand, then turning to the coffee maker he beams,
“Hey, did you make a fresh brew? That’s awesome, Thanks!”
“It’s no problem.” You say in a small voice
At the moment you desired no conversation with anyone. It felt as if once the tiniest amount of sympathy is thrown in your direction, you become a puddle of pudding into the persons hand. Instead, what you really wanted to do was to stop feeling so weak. Stop relying on them to hold you together, because people leave. Jimin left. Left you to melt into the ground without looking back.
Right now, you just wanted to be left alone.
But the boy in front of you did not seem to be good at detecting facial cues.
“Umm…do you work here?” He asks you, and you give him a confused look, “I-I mean, I’ve never seen you around…but it must be because I just started here last week, I’m a new recruit.”
Yura mentioned something about that, but you never actually got a chance to look through the profiles since the Jimin fiasco.
“Is that it?” He asks again, “Are you a new recruit as well?”
“Um...” You wondered how to properly tell the boy that you were his boss. The reason he hasn’t seen you before is because you rarely come out of your office. Unless there’s a big meeting.
“Then you must’ve started today, huh?” He says, a smile on his face displaying his teeth…his bunny teeth. Adorable. “We’re in the same boat then! If you ever need anything, just let me know!”
The expression on him was so pleased, you didn’t have the heart to decline. Didn’t have the heart to walk away or disregard him. So, you just stood there as he introduced himself.
“My name’s Jungkook by the way.”
“_-___.” You respond shyly
“___,” He repeats to himself, scratching the back of his head, “That’s a beautiful name.” He gives you a look that has you blushing as you mumble out a ‘thank you.’
It was so natural then.
You don’t know how it happened, but you were suddenly thrown into a conversation with your company’s most enthusiastic employee, Jeon Jungkook. At first, you were worried a bit by how young he looks, yet it turned out he was only two years younger than you – and he refused to believe you were older, the brat. He stood there explaining how things work around the office, telling you tall tales about some of the ‘haunted’ conference rooms and scary coworkers to which you were enthralled by, despite being here way longer than him. You found yourself giggling every time he exaggerated a story with his words or eyes.
“So ___, how do you like it here so far?”
“It’s nice,” You respond vaguely, taking another sip of your coffee, “How about you?”
“They really work you to the bone! But I like it, they’re fair with the salary and the donuts here are always so good.” Jungkook beams widely while reaching over to grab one of the chocolate glazed donuts off from the small white box next to the coffee maker.
“Heard the CEO’s batshit though” He says with a mouthful
At that you let out a snort – almost spilling some of your coffee from your mouth, which leads you into covering it with your hand and coughing. It was true, she was a little strange.
“Oops.” Jungkook responds with a mischievous glint in his eye. In return you squint your eyes at him in mock anger as you let out your last cough. He reaches over again and grabs another donut from the box. You wish he would stop doing that, his arm radiated a lot of heat and you were going crazy trying to ignore his scent. Pulling out a second donut, this one with pink frosting and dark red glaze decorated in a zig-zag pattern, he hands it out to you.
“Here,” He says with his bunny teeth displayed.
You give it a long stare before taking it, “Thank you.”
“It’s a peace offering.”
“I see.” You eye the sugary dough and the colorful star sprinkles sticking into the frosting, “Interesting choice.”
“It’s cause that one was pretty.” He pouts
“You gave me a donut because you found it pretty?” You raise an eyebrow at him
Scoffing at your tone, he leans into the countertop and fold his arms, displaying his biceps up in your face. Damn those arms. “And what about it.”
“Nothing,” you giggle, “Just that normal people would give pretty flowers or pretty letters and not…fried dough.”
Jungkook turns silent at that, turning his face toward the ceiling as if in thought. He was making an odd expression, one with his eyebrows drawn in and lips pulled straight, you wondered if this was normally how his face was while thinking. It was kind of funny. But also, very cute.
“You’re right.” He suddenly says
“Hmm?”
“I should get you flowers.”
“…And where would you find flowers in an industrial urban structure?”
To this he removes himself off the counter and turns to you, his height and muscles intimidated you a bit. He was definitely taller than Jimin. “Is that a challenge?”
“Maybe it is.” You say in a low voice, maintaining direct eye contact
“Alright then ___, we may be new here (you internally cringe as he says this) but I bet you I can find you some pretty flowers lurking about in this stale glass cube of a building.”
You laugh at how serious he got – the fiery glint in his eyes, and raise out a hand, “And I bet you won’t!”
Being here three years had taught you quite a lot about this location. The lower floors contained a computer enterprise, and the upper floors remained a basic accounting firm. Grass surrounding the building was patchy and dry thanks to the summer heat. Also, your CEO had a strict pollen allergy, so keeping things like vases to fill with freshly cut daisies in or around the residence was impossible. There was no way he would was going to find any flowers here. It was a bit sad how much you knew about this place, being the only other dwelling you hung out in other than your home. But on the bright side, you were totally gonna win this bet.
“What do I get if I win?” You question as he shakes your hand. Heat immediately shoots down your spine at his touch and you block yourself from shivering by clenching your teeth…he had a very firm grip.
“I’ll be your servant for a week.” He pipes making you raise your brows as you shape your mouth into an ‘o.’ “And what If I win?”
“Hmm…” You hadn’t thought of that because you didn’t think there was any way he could.
“How about if I win, I get your number?”
…
Huh?
Tilting your head, you scrunch your brows. “…Why would you want my number?”
That confused you.
He gave you a wide eye stare. Did you really just say that? Perhaps you were playing hard to get? Yes…that must be it. No need to feel embarrassed. She didn’t reject you he thinks abashed. While you on the other hand were clueless to his fretful appearance.
“…Um.” Jungkook clears his throat looking down at his shoes. Wait…were Timblands allowed in the uniform? “Just cause.” He mumbles
You dwell on it for a second. You’ve never gave your number to a guy before. It can’t hurt, right? Besides he wasn’t going to win anyway.
“Well, alright.”
He grins at your approval, and you giggle in return. Was he the cutest man, or what?
“You know…you’re very pretty when you laugh.” He says abruptly and that makes you completely drop your mouth. His face flushes and that’s when you notice he still had your hand in his. The sudden awareness makes you pull it back at lightning speed. You try to speak again, but somehow the sound was knocked out of you and the room feels very, very, very, very warm for some reason.
“I- I should prob-” You point over your shoulder, slowly backing away from the doe-eyed man. “I have work.”
“A-alright…” He scratches the back of his head again. A habit you suppose. “See you around.”
“Yes.” Was the last thing you said before practically sprinting out of the breakroom.
You don’t know how long you spent chatting with Jungkook, but you came back to your office on sore legs. Sitting down on the revolving chair, you spin around a bit feeling bizarrely giddy inside, headache completely forgotten and newly revitalized. As you remember his red cheeks you pull up your arms in front of you. Chills…you had chills. What. Was. That.
Even though your legs hurt from standing, you don’t regret it one bit.
That was…strange. Never had you been one for conversations, especially not with the other sex. Your husband didn’t seem to like it when you were chatting with another man, so you never tried to. Yet Jungkook…why did you enjoy being around him so much?
It felt like you were back in high school, talking with the class president you had a huge crush on. Or like the guy from 5th grade who gave you a band aid. And even when you first met Jimin. You’re not sure, but you do know this is the first time in years where you became so smitten with someone so quickly. Jungkook was like a breath of fresh air, you really liked him.
Wait, what?
As soon as you process the weight of your thoughts, you immediately sit up in your chair. No, you couldn’t just have thought of such, right?
You…you were a married woman! Holding up your hand, you stare at your wedding ring while guilt crawls up your spine. This wasn’t right, you shouldn’t be doing this your conscious spoke. Not when your married life was in shambles. Is this who you were? Though, when you really think about it, it wasn’t like you did anything, you were just talking. So why did you feel so bad? Bringing your hand to your chest, you hold onto your ring finger with your other hand and close your eyes. Jimin appears before you, a light smile on his handsome face.
Your heart clenches.
“-ght.”
Just then, you register someone’s voice outside your office, breaking you from your daze. You stiffen, recognizing the soft laughter of your beloved secretary. She must have returned from her lunch break.
These days you had begun to pay Yura special attention.
It was due to her confession, knowing that she dealt with so much but still managed to be happy – genuinely happy – made you feel…curious. You wanted to understand how she did it, how she managed to deal with life in a better way. And then maybe, just maybe, you could do it too.
Yes, that should be a rational clarification of why you were creeping up to the entrance like a stalker. Calmly stepping up to the see-through door, you hide behind the solid wall to the right of it, peeping your head out to spot Yura. You honestly don’t know what you were wanting to accomplish, but you had been getting yourself involved in a lot of strange situations recently, so it was better not to question it.
She had her back facing you, thankfully, or this would have been even more embarrassing. You stretch your neck out as much as you could, feet planted firmly on the hidden side of the wall. Watching as she stood beyond her desk casually, her phone to her ear while she conversed gently with someone on the other line.
“I’ll pick up some Chinese tonight- no not that one I hate it!” She laughed. “Seriously babe we’ve had that four nights in a row now…okay, okay we had tempura for a whole month because of me I know that!”
It was easy to tell she was talking to her boyfriend. It was just general, everyday stuff but you couldn’t help but feel envious. Yura sounded so content, her boyfriend sounded like he loved her. That was all you’ve ever wanted. How come you’ve never had that?
A grimace falls upon your face. Just what were you doing trying to spy on your secretary? When did you become so pathetic? There was no secret, and if there was, she has told you of it already. The truth was, you were stubborn, unwilling to change from the old ways as if your conservatism has ever been of any help to you. With a silent sigh, you were about to walk back to your desk when you heard him tell her ‘I love you.’
In return she giggled, “I know~ See you tonight!”
You stood there stagnant for a bit. After a moment, you smiled, although there was no sign of joy on your face. Really…you were really pathetic.
Once you were at your desk, you eye your bag on the side of your chair’s leg before you pick it up, digging through it until you find what you were searching for. The piece of paper with the number was still in the same state as when she first gave it to you. Albeit crumpled. wouldn’t it have been hard for her to gather up the courage to say something you, her boss, could wrongly take offense over? Which you almost did. You respect her courage, her dedication and determination. When she first joined, you thought she was like you.
You were wrong.
She was stronger than you had ever been.
And instead of dwelling in that bitter pool of jealously you’ve drowned in with so many other women, you respected her. You wanted to learn from her and Irene and any woman in your life that had fought their battles with determination. It was like you said before, you had been getting yourself into strange circumstances lately, so why not this too? Who was here to stop you? Who was here to feel pity for you?
All you wanted was to be happy once again. Just once more.
You owed it to yourself
Tick…tock…tick…tock…
You sat at the edge of your red seat with your palms holding onto your knees. Uneasiness found a way to penetrate your bones and you sensed a thin layer of perspiration on your hairline as you watch the clock ticking down until your dreaded deadline.
There was a lady situated underneath the clock, an elder woman by maybe a decade. She had soft wrinkles around her eyes and forehead, a bun high on top her head and bright red lipstick on her thin lips. Clacking away at her key board, she would occasionally furrow her brows in concentration at something she was looking at on her computer screen or smile at you if you made eye contact. Didn’t do much to ease your nerves but it still felt nice. The lady reminded you of yourself, and you speculate if this is how people saw you when you were at work.
It had been a couple of days until you managed to call an appointment for a therapy session. The isolation ate away at you after Jimin had been missing for the third day. You desperately wanted to talk to someone about your problems, but Irene was out of town, your husband absent, and you were too shy to seek out Yoongi. Instead of pushing your complications onto others, you thought it was finally time to call in some professional effort. The lady on the phone had been really nice and you were able to set an appointment up fairly quickly. Now you were just sitting here, in the monotone lounge area waiting for the therapist to arrive.
There was quite a bit of research you did beforehand. Turns out, different therapists professionalize different problems. Cognitive therapist help deal with bad thoughts and unclutter daily habits. Family-oriented systems therapist dealt with family related issues. Personal issues are dealt by people who are experts in narrative, behavioral, or solution-oriented therapies. And psychodynamic therapists, like the one you were visiting, dealt with unconscious motivation.
Actually, many therapists deal with many different fields at once, some work in relationship therapy both romantic and platonic while others work only on you – if you choose to keep the people in your life out of your segments. Because of that, it was up to the person seeking out therapy to decide what’s right for them. For instance, if you are someone who always felt closer and comfortable with your dad, then maybe it’s best that you seek out a male therapist. You also had to be meticulous about their personalities.
During your search, you found a person who said their therapist always read their email during sessions on a blog forum. One even said their therapist ate rounds of cheese during theirs! It was extremely uncomfortable to read that. But now you knew there were many things to make sure of, therefore being prepared. Gender, expertise, field of education, professionalism, reviews, trust and even the vibe you get from certain therapists are all important factors in choosing a therapist.
Researching yours, you found her specialty was in female psychology. Including relationships and intimacy. All reviews on her were positive and you were so glad to read through them. After rounds of self-motivation and days of procrastination, here you were.
It’s quite humorous actually, a month ago you never thought you’d be doing anything like this.
You just weren’t ever capable, especially not with your level of anxiety. What could it be about the past few weeks that you’ve grown so courageous? Was it the meeting with the stranger on the roof, the discovery of a friend, or empathizing with someone you worked with? But what if it wasn’t a person? Perhaps it was the city’s rapid heart at 3 AM, the wild club and heavy beats or the mundane office life encouraging you to take a step forward. Maybe it the tragedy behind that rainy day you hate to recall and hitting rock bottom with such force. Opening the pandora box? As you struggle to find answers within yourself, you realize Jimin wasn’t the only one confused with your behavior.
You don’t get to dwell on the past for too long as a door clicks open and lets a slight breeze pull you from your thoughts. A slender young lady holding a clipboard appears; short brown hair, black kitten heels and thin rimmed glasses sitting on her nose. She looks in your direction and smiles, gesturing for you to come her way.
You get up nervously, wiping your sweaty palms on your pencil skirt. Straightening yourself out, you make your way towards her.
“Hi, you must be ___, correct? I’m Dr. Lin.” She raises her hand and you immediately grab it. Her voice was gentle and steady, you felt actually welcomed.
“Yes, nice to meet you, Doctor.”
“You too.” She smiles, “And please, call me Lin. This way please.”
She leads you in with her arm on your back, making you effortlessly walk into the sanctuary of her office.
Once you were inside the room, you gape at her place in awe. It was wide open, there was no way you’d feel suffocated in here as you originally thought. There were large windows, displaying the greenery located at the back of the building. She had two huge shelves filled with colorful books on both ends of her office. In front of the windows rested a large shaggy carpet with a glass coffee table on top. Behind the table were two grey sofa chairs that complimented the fuzzy blue carpeting. And a small desk on the right side next to an office chair where she probably did most of her work. As you hear the door shut behind you, you turn around to catch her eye and she smiles at you.
“Right this way.” She says, walking past you which leads you into following her. When she reaches a chair, she pauses, waiting for you to take a seat first.
So, you do.
“Well.” She starts, grabbing the pen off her clipboard, “How are you today ___?”
“I-I’m alright.”
Lin raises the corner of her lips “Just alright?”
“Yes…I.” You don’t know what to say. Were you already doing something wrong?
“That’s good,” Lin smiles as she clicks her pen open and jots something down onto her clipboard. “That’s a beautiful ring by the way.”
“O-oh thank you.” You cover your finger with your hand as Lin slightly squints at your action, still writing something.
“So,” She takes a deep breath and put down her pen, “What brings you here today?” Looking back up at you, she beams.
“Um…I needed someone to talk to…”
“Do you not have someone in your life to talk to? Or is it that you don’t feel comfortable confiding in them?”
“Kind of both…I…don’t want to trouble anyone.”
“I see.” She writes something else down
“Now tell me ___...why’re you really here?”
Out of nervousness, you kept messing with your ring and you knew she could tell. So, to distract your hands you needed something else to clutch onto. There was a tall glass of water on the coffee table in front of you. Your doctor notices your staring right away to which she points, “Please, go ahead.”
At her approval you pick up the glass and bring it your lips. After drinking just a bit, you decide to hold it down on your lap. For a second, you just stare as the water softly vibrates inside the clear glass while Lin waits for you to speak up. Is there a right way to tell her? You struggle internally at voicing your problems.
“I-I’ve been married six years…and it’s…I’ve had a hard time.”
“Six years is quite long…most married couples have problems by then.” Lin says, “It’s normal. Going through difficulties ranging from various reasons either with money or fidelity – having ups and downs.”
You take a deep breath trying to keep your heartbeat steady. “I barely remember having an up…”
She stares at you, and you don’t look at her. Instead you stare at the small burgundy table on the side of your sofa. It separated your chair with hers.
“…Can you tell me a bit about your husband, ___? Why don’t start by telling me the last up you do remember?”
At that, you finally look up at her. Was there an up you remember? For a large portion of your life, you had thought that every single moment with Jimin was an up. But when it came down to it, that wasn’t the truth. Jimin spent tremendous amounts of time breaking his promises to you. You actually remember the last promise he kept…how innocent the display of your relationship was back then…
The morning was pure white.
Or at least it felt like so in your cramped dorm room where you spent another day lying next to the only other body you desired. The craving was an ache on par with stories that are never finished or poems with no end. You wonder if this is how it would always be; you longing for him while being so close, as well as lingering on the edges of how long this would last, when he would get up and leave you. Then you can crave him for an eternity.
Oh, how you dreaded that day. You couldn’t imagine it, couldn’t fathom it, you couldn’t even conjure up the courage to acknowledge it. But it was inevitable, wasn’t it? Out of the thousands who want him, the millions who would do anything for him – what could have made you so special?
“What are you staring at?” He asks, softly turning his sleepy eyes to you.
His gaze raises your heartbeat, you feel a blush crawl up your bare spine. He’s been quieter these days, always seeming like he was in a deep stupor. A covered silence behind his beautiful mind. Everything was domestic and wholesome, your mind felt relaxed.
“I’m looking at my world…” You whisper, close to his ear as your lips brush against the outer lobe.
For a moment he just stares before he lets out a breathy laugh. “Cheesy.”
You smile, head molding into his shouldering with ease. Sex with him was always like a gentle wave, slowly covering your whole body in its warmth. His body was warmer than your comforter and his skin more alluring than any sight offered to your eyes.
“Says you.”
“Oh?” He quirks an eyebrow up making you nod
“Remember when you took me to the arcade and kept trying to win me that fat round stuffed whale for 2 hours?”
“Pfft, and I never even won that, did I?” He scrunches his nose in mock anger
“Exactly.” You giggle
“Hmm…but do you remember you stood there and encouraged me on the whole time. Didn’t complain once.”
Of course, you remember that day. The heels you wore were so prickly, your feet were sore for a week. Still you didn’t want to discourage Jimin, who was trying so hard for you. Or maybe he was just to immersed in the game, but it didn’t matter. None of that mattered but the fact that Jimin was with you.
“You didn’t complain when my car broke down in the snow on that abandoned road. Nor when I insisted to go see Candyman instead of whatever romcom movie you had in mind… I’ve always love that about you.”
I love that about you.
“How can I ever complain when you’re having fun…I’m not the complaining type of girl anyway.”
“You’re right, you aren’t like the other girls.” Jimin turns to face you completely, a soft grin on your face, “Maybe that’s why I like you too much.”
“R-really?” You flush as he laughs. It was always so easy for him, wasn’t it? “Cheesy.”
“But you love it.” Jimin bites his lower lip and well, you couldn’t deny that. He leans in just then, catching your fleeting eyes before he tenderly connects your lips. You couldn’t deny him then either. Your mouths move in a languid fashion, tongues tasting the deepest corners slowly.
He tasted of honey. That sweet, addictive pleasure.
After a few seconds you both part, Jimin hums with a lazy smirk. Your stares battle infinity before he looks at the clock. “Shit…I should run, my boss needs me to come in early today.”
“Oh, okay.” You say, masking your dejection when he gets up to put his shirt on. Jimin always hated his bosses. Actually, he seemed to have a problem with any figure who displayed authority over him.
“…Jimin…” You call out to him and he looks at you over his shoulder. “You’ll come back tonight, right?”
“…Right.” He says with a smile.
“Promise?” Your voice is so quiet it disappears with the sounds he makes as he shuffles to get up. So you just watch as he gets ready, the yearning in your heart and mind stirring again as you glare a hole into his muscular back. And suddenly he turns, with that same smile on his face. The one that has entrapped your heart many times before.
“I promise.”
And that was the last promise he actually fulfilled.
“That sounds so sweet.” Lin pulls you out from your thoughts and you take notice of the gentle smile gracing your features.
“It was.”
“How long ago was this?” she questions
“…”
“___?”
“Si-…seven years ago”
She frowns, furrowing her eyebrows “And how long have the two of you been married again?”
“Six years.”
“Then what have the last six years been like for you?” She asks softly
“He’s fucking another girl.” You calmly state as the room goes silent. The only thing you could hear were the morning birds outside the window and your sullen breaths. Thinking about the last six years made you upset…you couldn’t do anything to change that. Your grip on the glass becomes tighter, and you notice you’ve left prints again. So, you quickly begin wiping them. “He’s been…fucking other girls.”
…
“…I see…why don’t you start from the beginning.”
And in a moment, you’re spilling it all. Every single tortuous detail from your spousal life. Jimin’s promises, his lies. Every time he shut you down or off. Whenever he created distance. Jessica. Mina. Tina. All of last month, as if it was a story written in a word document. Every single pain you felt. You were crying by the end of it. Both from the searing lump in your throat and from the dreadful feeling of betraying your husband by not keeping your marriage’s confidentiality.
Why did you always feel so guilty?
You were sobbing into your palm as the doctor offers you a Kleenex. Wiping away at your tears, you take a glimpse at her expression. It had somewhat hardened in what you think is sympathy…but you couldn’t describe it well.
“Is there anyone you’ve spoken to about your husband’s infidelity other than Irene or Yoongi?”
“No.” You sniffle
“What about your mom?”
“I…I barely see her. Last time I t-talked to her was on the phone a year ago…on my birthday. And even if I d-did…I doubt I’d tell her.”
Lin takes a deep breath, “I see.” She commences to write something down once again on her clipboard. “Infidelity can be damaging in all sorts of way to an individual…especially to one’s self confidence.”
She looks at you “Do you feel that you have lost your sense of self-worth?”
“I wouldn’t know…I’m not sure I ever had any.”
This time, she takes off her glasses to hold in her fingers as she rests her knuckles under her jaw.
“While you’ve been here, I noticed you gave vague and short replies as if you didn’t want to talk in the first place when that’s exactly what you said you came to do. And you’re sitting at the edge of your seat.” She points at your hips and you immediately look down, “You’re trying to not leave a mark of your presence in the room, just like in the lobby…even the glass…you’ve marked off your prints around three times now?”
Were you really doing all of that? You felt embarrassed.
Her eyes immediately soften, and she speaks in a slower tone, “I just want you to tell me why you keep trying to make yourself as insignificant as possible. Why do you only become full of life at the mention of your husband?”
You wish you had an answer for her, but you don’t. Huh, how funny is it that this is the one time your perfectionism fails you. The one time you fail to provide an answer. Instead you opt to stare at the small table again. There were books on the table…one particular one stacked on top that caught your eye.
Her Body and Other Parties, the title read.
Lin notices where you were gazing off at.
“…___...can I ask you something private? You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.”
Well she knew so much already. How can yet another intimate fact hurt? So, you nod meekly.
“How is your sex life?”
“Huh?” You make eye contact immediately after processing what she just said
“Can you tell me the last time you made love with Jimin?”
“Uh…um… uh-we haven’t been, I mean I can’t…with him.”
“Why?”
“Because when I tried to…Tina appeared in my head and I just…”
“Alright.” She says, looking ahead as if in thought. “Then when was the last time you were able to?”
You try to think, “Around 3 months ago.”
“Before Tina then. And you’ve been sexually active occasionally before that, yes?”
“Yes.”
“How was it then? Did he make you feel good?”
“Yes…I think?”
She gives you a certain look, “You think? What do you mean by that?”
“I mean it’s Jimin…everything feels good with Jimin.”
“Were you able to reach an orgasm with Jimin?”
Silence puddles the room.
“No.” You whisper in the smallest voice
“…___, can you tell me how long it has been since your husband gave you an orgasm?”
There’s a strumming inside you and you feel your insides pound. She said you didn’t have to answer right?
“Since…Jessica.” You murmur her name so low you don’t think she heard it. But the way she clicks her pen on tells you otherwise.
“…Can you tell me how many years it has been?”
“…”
“If you don’t want to answer it, that’s all right. We can talk about something else.”
“5 years.”
“…I see…and before that?”
“Before that…I always came before Jimin. It was surreal to have him above me…inside me. I felt so…loved.”
Lin glances out a window for a few seconds, seemingly in thought. Then she brings her attention back onto you. “Has Jimin ever noticed?
You snort at that, to which she raises a brow. Clearing your throat, you speak again.
“No, he hasn’t noticed. I fake them.”
“So, you let him have sex with you, never once felt satisfied and didn’t complain?”
You look down at your glass once again, “I…I didn’t want him to not touch me.”
Lin nods, waiting for you to continue.
“I wanted him to love me…to only look at me. Not being able to cum…is all my fault anyway. Something…must be wrong with me.” You wipe the tears loitering your sockets with your crumpled Kleenex.
“No. This isn’t your fault.” Lin states before she sighs, rubbing at her neck. “I’ve heard that before in a lot of my female patients. Yet it still manages to amaze me.”
“___,” She addresses you with full attention, making you straighten your spine, “Recently, I have been reading books on female sexuality and happiness. One of them being this-” She picks up the book you were looking at “-‘Her Body and Other Parties’ by Carmen Maria Machado. And I have come to notice a pattern between a woman’s sensuality and her self-esteem.”
Lin pauses, putting the book back down and looking back at you to make sure you were keeping up with her, making you nod in return.
“If I may ask…have you, by chance, brought yourself to an orgasm in the past 5 years?”
“Huh?”
“Have you ever masturbated?”
“Umm…no…”
“Maybe once when you were a teen? College, perhaps?”
“No.”
Like she had an epiphany she writes down something yet again on her clipboard.
“Then that’s what I want you to do before our next session. Educate yourself on healthy masturbation.”
Your jaw drops open at her statement, a string of questions leaving your lips. What did she just say? There was no way you’d be capable of doing something like that! You almost died just thinking about-
“___, I know it seems crazy, but masturbation is directly linked to a women’s mental health. It helps you gain confidence, release stress, produces endorphins and strengthens your immune system. We will be able to find out a lot about you, such as if you are interested in the idea of sex or not, either which is fine. It can also tell us if Jimin’s infidelity has been causing you subconscious psychological damage.”
Your mouth shuts as she lists her reasons.
“You have spent your life, giving yourself away. To your mom, to Jimin, to your work. You spent your life trying to become someone they’d love, that you forgot about who you are. There’s barely any of the real you left inside.” She points at your chest, “I need you to find out what you want, the things you like. The pleasures YOU seek.”
“I want you to learn about yourself. Learn how to properly care for yourself…how to love yourself.”
As her words register in your brain, you think back to a couple days ago. About how you sat with Irene, outside that small café. Not understanding that you genuinely liked cooking, just thought you did it to make your mom or Jimin happy. And about how good it felt, how amazing it was to realize there was a part of your personality not molded from the people who took advantage of you. It was…liberating.
“O…okay, but how do I…I mean my sessions with Jimin were all soft…I’ve never done anything myself before.”
“It’s up to you really…why don’t you start out by using a toy? You’ve missed out for a long while, so yes. I think a toy would help you.” She smiles at you and you want to stuff your face into the couch.
Could today get any stranger?
Suddenly a timer beeps causing Lin to look back at her desk.
“Oh, that’s all the time we have for now ___,” She says standing up, and you rush to stand with her, placing the glass back on the table. “I hope you can successfully complete this task I’ve assigned you, and I’ll meet you the same time next week, alright?”
She extends her hand, and you take it immediately “Umm, yes definitely.”
With the pleasantries out the way, you carefully make your way towards the door. Once you place your palm on the door handle, Lin calls out to you once again,
“Oh, and no thinking about Jimin while completing my assignment! This is about you and only you after all.”
“BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-”
“Irene, please stop laughing.” You groan into the receiver, pinching the bridge of your nose in embarrassment.
“Sorr-I just ahhahahah, no wait-” She wheezes over the other line. Taking a deep breath, she consoles herself. “Alright, so let me get this straight. I’m out of town for a week and you end up going to a therapist who tells you to jerk yourself off on the first session?”
“Ireeenneee,” You whine, “She’s a smart lady. She’s trying to help me.”
“Oh, she’s definitely trying to help you alright.” Irene snickers and you huff in frustration. Maybe you shouldn’t have called her to tell her about your Saturday night plans.
“Okay, okay, no more jokes. So, are you going to do it?”
“Yes…I mean I don’t know…I’m a bit nervous.”
“You haven’t came in 5 years. As a girl with a healthy libido, that would emotionally damage the hell out of me. Maybe the Doc’s onto something.” Irene states
“You think so?” This is what you wanted as usual. Reassurance.
“I don’t know to be honest…why don’t you try it out and tell me? You sure you bought the right item?”
You stare at the small unwrapped object in front of you. A bullet vibrator. All of that internet searching for a pink oval-shaped ball.
“I…think…” You gulp, becoming slightly intimidated
“Well I think you’re going to have an amazing night my princess.” Irene coos making you blush
“I-I-I am hanging up on you now!” You pout, flustered
“Wait, no I wa-”
With a huff you end the call, throwing your phone off to the side. Again, you were left doing nothing but staring at your toy. It just laid there, staring back at you. The atmosphere of your room felt oddly tense.
“Okay…be gentle.” You whisper to it. It doesn’t respond.
You pick it up carefully, taking off your robe and laying down against your mattress.
…Now what?
You were a grown woman; it was healthy to explore your sexuality. That’s what those internet articles and female magazines told you, all written in a perky tone to somehow connect with the modern working woman. Although you being you, you couldn’t help but point out their spelling mistakes.
That’s not the point, you huff, staring at your ceiling in frustration. What were you supposed to do right now? Your core was exposed to the air, the bullet vibrator stayed stiff in your left palm and you felt kind of ashamed in this position.
No thinking about Jimin, you recall Lin warning you. How were you supposed to do that? Who else would ever make you feel the way Jimin made you feel? Granted, he didn’t actually make you cum in the past few years, making love with him still felt good.
Or at least you think what you had with him felt good. At the times he made love with you, you desperately tried to convince yourself that it was different with you than with Jessica or Mina. That you were special to him and they were just side pieces. It…didn’t really work. Nevertheless, there wasn’t anyone who made you feel as bright as Jimin, no one you made you flustered and left you stuttering.
Well except maybe Irene and her smart mouth.
You giggle as you think of your friend. Before you begin to ponder on the subject a bit too long. Irene did have a pretty mouth. Her lips were always so cherry red and eyes foxy and seductive. It was always difficult to look at her straight in the face, but she made you sure you did no matter what. She was so assertive.
It was then, when you were dreaming about her intense ogling that your hips shifted slightly, your exposed core aching. H…How would Irene feel around your…your…
“Ah-” You moaned, your arm sliding down until your fingers made contact with your folds. Your eyes were closed so you could better picture her jet-black hair, the lax strands perfectly framing her small face. Your mouth was shaped as an O, as your fingers brushed through your folds, sliding them across the lax skin, before stretching them open, becoming wetter by the second.
“Nn-ahh.” You cry out softly as you rub around your clit. Your mind filling with a deep haze. This was so strange, you’ve never thought of women this way. But then again, you haven’t thought of anyone this way except for your husband.
“Nuh uh~” You hear the tender tone of a feminine voice echo, and you strain to look between your thighs to spot your smirking vixen of a best friend, “No thinking of him here.”
She coos before she tips her tongue out, her face dropping into your middle. Whimpering loudly, you arch your back off the bed as you feel her take you into her mouth, wet muscle playing around with your juices. She slid it up, down and across, pinch your nipple as she sucked on your nectar.
“oh my- I-Ire-” You hear her snicker, her laughter shooting straight through your spine. While still in a foggy daze, you squeeze the vibrator in your left palm, before pressing the small power button with your thumb. Your breathing was heavy, the device buzzing slightly in your hand as you brought it down.
For a moment you hesitated, the object’s frequency intimidating you. So, with a deep breath, you shut your lids, connecting the vibrator with your clit. Immediately a wave of pleasure washed over you, your eyes shot open as you groaned. It was as if Irene’s tongue was molded to the shape deep inside of you. Your body raised in temperature.
Although only connected to one part, you could feel the toy course throughout every limb. It left you shivering as you clutched the bedsheet beside your hips with your wet digits. You could feel your thighs, drenched in your sweetness, the air around them cooler, softer. Irene’s tongue increased in speed, sending your mind spiraling.
“O-OH mm-” You don’t know why you were trying to hold back your voice, but you couldn’t help it for some reason.
“Don’t hold back.” You suddenly hear, and you break out of your bewilderment to find another person on top of you. Shadowing over you was straight black hair, lusting doe eyes and soft rabbit features passionately regarding you. “I want to hear you.” He whispers as his large arms enclose around your head.
Why was he here?
Did you somehow want him to be here? You didn’t know. All you did know was that there was a knot forming inside of you, coiling around your insides with a viper like grip as you continued to fall into his stare. It felt so good, so euphoric. The pleasure was addicting.
You felt like you were going crazy, fingers slowly linking to your cunt once again. Rubbing circles as the device vibrated through your bundle of nerves. This wasn’t right, you shouldn’t be thinking about him. But the heat from his body made you feel lightheaded, whimpers escaping you like crazy. It was so wrong, but you felt so good in the moment.
“You’re so pretty like this.” Jungkook murmurs, moving away your hair sticking to your face. In a second Jungkook took the device away from you, winking at you. Confused, you tilted your head at him on the pillow before your eyes suddenly rolled into the back of your head.
He amped the vibration, placing the toy halfway inside of you. Your hips moved off the bed, fingers leaking wet with your nectar as you played with your clit. You wanted him inside of you so bad. It’s not that you wanted to conceive this very image, the sane you would never ever do something like this but fuck you don’t know what the fuck was wrong with you in that moment. And you didn’t care.
You imagine Jungkook drilling inside you, his fat dick ripping through your insides as the bed shook with every thrust. That was all it took to push you over the edge. And soon you were cumming, screaming out his name.
“J-Jungkook, yes! Oh God!”
A heavy wave of pleasure washes over you, stars obstructing your sight. Your mouth hung open as your pussy convulsed. Shuddering through the tremendous sensation, you fall back onto the mattress with a thump, and the toy helps you ride out your orgasm.
“Haah...haa...”
BzzzBzzz
The only noises that were left were of your excessive breathing and the strumming of the bullet vibrator. It felt like all your energy had suddenly left you, you forgot how powerful orgasms were until now. Soon finding it to be painful, you remove the toy from inside you, pressing the power button as you hold it up to your face. It was sticky wet, your juices smothered around the pink device like glaze.
Glazed donuts.
Blushing, you throw it to the side, still trying to process everything that just occurred. Wow. That was…Irene…and then Jungkook. You jump around, squealing into your pillow. What just happened?! Why did you imagine those two out of everyone? How will you ever face them again?
Even after everything was done, you couldn’t help the way your body felt so thrilled and satisfied. For some reason, you felt like you were floating on cloud 9. It felt so out of place, you hadn’t felt this way with Jimin ever. Not even on your best days. Who knew something so taboo could turn you on so much?
Fuck.
You turn so your back rested against the bed again, before slamming your hands onto your face. Were you going to have to explain all of this to your therapist? No way were you going to tell her who you jacked off to. As you were overthinking and worrying about your near future, you suddenly began to feel very drained and numb. You blinked lazily, the familiar weariness akin to sleep.
It took you by surprise, you hadn’t been able to fall asleep without sleeping pills for a long time now. As you bring your arms back down to look at the ceiling, you’re faced with your empty bedroom one again. Jimin had always been gentle with you, hadn’t he? It was another reason you loved him as much as you did. When you both made love, it felt like he could never hurt you.
Reality kicks in and a longing surrounds you. It was inevitable, you were bound to remember him again. You couldn’t help but wish your husband was here with you to share your happiness.
You wish he was here with you to see your growth, to be proud of you. You wish he was here with you and you couldn’t help but feel that yearning for him like you’ve always felt. You really wish he could love you. Looks like you hadn’t exactly passed this task, since you weren’t supposed to think about Jimin but you didn’t care. More than anything, you wanted him home.
Old habits don’t just die after one success.
So, as the thought of your vacant house infected you, before you could dwell on the topic further. Before you took another pill, feeding your insides with your own poison. Become a moping drone, a sickened shell once again, you shut your eyes. Blocked out the evil world before you and relaxed every muscle, every scar in your brain. It was the only thing you could think of doing. Thankfully your spent energy agrees with you.
Before Jimin could take over you once more, without ever lifting a muscle.
You fell asleep, letting yourself feel drained and dreaming of the wedding and the bright shore.
It was inevitable.
Your eyes flutter open to a soft white room. The sunlight was peeking through the curtains, lighting up the canvas across your orbs. You wriggle your toes about, slowly seeping into full conscious.
Once you can make out the ceiling above you, you stretch your muscles before sitting up.
“Ji-”
Turning on your side, you place your palm down on the cotton sheets beside you. A palm you meant to place on a body that was meant to be on the bed. Beside you.
“Right.” You whisper, staring at the cold spring empty of life and bringing your hand back to your lap.
No one’s there.
Sighing, you swing your legs off the bed and onto the floor – the fluffy carpet molding into your feet. You push yourself up, the action causing the sheets to slither off your naked body and expose your nipples to the chill atmosphere. Again, you stretch your tendons, raising your arms above your head and lifting the bottom soles of your feet off the ground. Your back curves and your eyes clenched shut. It’s been a while since you had fell asleep without pills.
Blinking lazily at nothing in particular, you sluggishly turn your body to the direction of the bathroom. You begin to saunter across your room, reveling in the peaceful silence of a sunny Sunday. As you’re a few steps from the door, your gaze catches onto the full-length body mirror set just aside.
It makes you halt in your tracks. A moment passes by before you step closer to your reflection in fascination.
Have you always looked like this?
Is this the way your hair falls over you face? You think as you run your fingers through your soft locks – bringing forward a single strand to the front of your face to focus in on. Slowly your gaze falls back to the mirror and you tilt your head. Sliding your digits onto your face, the tips of your pointer and middle fingers caressing the peak of your nose, gradually underneath your jaw and upon your neck.
Is this how your body was shaped?
You take it all in. Captivated by the glowing expanse of your silky skin, the gentle rhythm of your chest, and the highs of your curves you ran a palm over. Shuddering as a strangely new sensation waltzes within you. The sun’s rays wrap around you like gold, highlighting every mole and freckle settled into your casing. Scars and marks from forgotten memories finding shelter under the spotlight. Every secret exposed in the flare of the replication. It felt like you had just stepped out of a decaying cocoon – stitched together by the molding twined fabric of your uncertainties.
And the you who emerged shone.
There were sparks of glitter all around you. Tiny angels spinning threads of new-found purity onto the secret corners of your soul.
A once caged bird, with virginal wings as large as her innocent heart. Who wears her crown fragile; while her refined mind heals from the battles with the toxicity in amour. Her beauty is an ode to the agile cosmic, lucky enough to hold her able within its seams. Your dimensions were your unique, the line between pleasure and hurt fitted across your stomach.
It was beautifully raw outside that rotten cocoon. You spread your arms out, relishing in the way your body weaves between space and time as your insides melt perfectly into the shape of your skin. Every bone, every ounce of lush, the fruits of your divine frame. The mountains and hills spread amongst your flesh – the caves and burrows layered one on top of the other. It was all beautiful. Raw, real and radiant. Like a pallet with too many colors splattered amongst the wood, splashes from aches and pain and memories and gain.
Your pallet.
As the pearls of your pupils rake through your figure, they suddenly land on your unclothed core. You let out a shaky exhale, eyes glossing and lashes fluttering. Carefully you guide your hand to your lower region until your fingers make contact with your wet folds. A shiver runs through you, goosebumps poking through your soft pores. Awakening the images of last night; of the whimpers and aches. Of the satisfaction and the explosion of your confined stellar.
This was you. Your perfect frame, your flawless physique, your structured identity.
Was it the early morning air? The first good sleep in years? Or the sensual night before?
…Did it matter?
A smile graces your lips as you wrap your arms around yourself. The slick from your nether regions painted amongst your fingers staining the upper part of your left arm.
You were just happy to be awake.
_
“They’re pretty, right?”
He holds up the peonies clutched in his hand at you, tilting his head so you could see him just behind the stunning flowers. He was everything for you; your energy, your medicine, your happiness. You wanted to melt.
“Yes.” You reply, trying to sound happy; less depressed.
He frowns and it goes straight to your heart, “Sorry”
“For?” He asks, throwing the plant on the couch. Not making eye contact.
Suddenly you wanted to cry. You’re too sensitive to all of his emotions and he knows it. Uses it to his pleasure. It was amazing – how some words had so much power over you.
For being sad. For not living up to your expectations.
“I love them Jimin.” You smile, placing your hands on each side of his face and turning him to you. “I love you.”
And he’s happy. The sun is back on his face.
On the other hand, you feel like the unlit side of the moon. Especially when Jimin engulfs you in a smothering hug.
“That’s what I wanted to hear.”
From me or Jessica? You think. It had only been a week since the dire revelation and your insides were crumbling. He had sex with you time and time again, but you felt nothing. Something was wrong with you, but you didn’t want to tell him.
You wanted him to be happy. Even if you hated yourself.
As you fit into his arms, you stare at your reflection in the mirror on the back wall. How ugly…how unworthy. No wonder he cheated on you. No wonder he found someone better.
He loves you too, he says.
But you couldn’t help hate yourself.
Ok. What the hell was a T-front string?
You squint your eyes at the screen, rereading Irene’s text for the tenth time.
Your heels were clacking the floor below you, as you speed walked through the mall with a small giftbag in hand. A while after your little intimate moment with yourself, you had called up your friend to speak to her about the rejuvenation you experienced in excitement. She was very happy for you, giggling through the receiver like a child. It made you smile.
Although, no matter how much she pestered you, you refused to spill the beans about who you ended up jerking off about. Irene was persistent, naming off every actor and model she knew. And you on the other hand had no idea who half of them were. Thankfully, she couldn’t get you to spill the beans. You dreaded her reaction if she ever did find out.
After warding off her interrogation and chatting about something mundane, she had suggested for you to go to the mall so she can help you find some useful ‘items’ for women since you had nothing else planned. Your interest was piqued, thinking it might be items such as the world’s most comfortable bra or scrunchies that never go missing. Yet as you parked your car in the lot, and tentatively made your way inside – you had given up all hope for your superpowered hair ties.
None of the items Irene had been texting you made any sense.
‘Double D Balls Dildo. Make sure the balls are squishy!’
‘Shower Sex Foothold. Very useful for shaving your legs. Other things as well I guess.’
???
In an array of confusion, you had gone up to a random employee to ask him what exactly Doc Johnson’s “The Fist” was. The paling look he gave you in return has you traumatized for life. Never again would you ask anyone to explain anything Irene tells you.
As she continued to text you severe objects to buy, you just shook your head while buying a little something of your own. Letting her think you were following what she said of course. You could just imagine the look on her face, the tiny snicker as she continues to lightheartedly play around with your innocence. There was a small jewelry shop you loved in this mall, one Jimin would bring you to after he got a promotion or when it was your birthday.
You bought a small bracelet for Irene from said shop; to thank her for her friendship and for listening to you mope about Jimin. Satisfied with your purchase, and only this purchase – you decided to head out of the place. Your legs were practically running out of the mall, trying to get back home. It’s actually been like this for the past few days.
Since he disappeared.
Every time you stepped out of your apartment, even for a few minutes, you would rush back at twice the speed. It was as if…you were hoping that once you step inside. Once you’re in the sanctuary of your house, he’d be there too. He’d turn around and you could run into his warm arms again. And he’d promise you – genuinely promise – he’ll never leave again. Ever. It was a fairytale reunion made for a dreamy girl. Ridiculous, but you still wished it to be true.
For some reason, you were especially eager to get home today. Even more than usual. When you made it to the first floor and could see the doors you came in from, your phone abruptly buzzed again. Huffing, you open the device, trying to see what nonsense Irene sent you this time.
You were too busy checking your phone to see where you were going. Your legs were rushing a bit too much to notice the other pairs of legs walking in your direction.
“Whoa-”
“Oww-”
That’s when you ended up bumping into another body with a small thud. The phone in your hand crashing onto the ground, sliding away from your peripheral vision on the floor. Both of you wobbled around a bit but grabbed onto the others arms to seek balance. Once you stood sturdy, you immediately searched around for your missing phone with your head turning about in a frenzy. It didn’t take you long to spot it as it didn’t travel too far, ending up right next to the girl’s leg. In relief you sigh, bending down to pick it up to brush the specks of dust and surveille the damage. The girl on your arm doesn’t move an inch, like she was frozen in place.
After you’ve made sure it’s not broken and everything was working properly, you smiled. Looking up at the girl to apologize.
“Oh, I’m sorr-”
A gasp escapes your throat.
Your eyes instantly widen – in an eerily painful way as your jaw fails you. Your insides plummet with a chaotic mix of anger, confusion, and dread swirling through you – thundering up a storm that has you stagnant. The atmosphere takes a sudden drop in temperature and a chill runs down your spine at the cold air. Subconsciously, you take a step back. Away from the sight before you.
“H-hey ___, long time no see.”
In return, the girl stands there in as much discomfort and anxiousness as you. Shifting on her feet, she sends you an awkward smile. A smile you were used to seeing daily at one point in your life. A smile you grew to reluctantly dislike over the years. Your muscles start to constrict.
“Mina.” A whisper leaks from your lips.
Clink, clank.
You listen in to the busy atmosphere surrounding you while sitting still in your wooden seat. Waitresses passing by, the small chatter, the clinging and clanging of cups and forks. It was all more interesting to you than the predicament at hand right now. There was nothing to really focus in on, except the table in front of you and its stiff glass casing. Which you were eyeing with lasers shooting out of your orbs.
The tension in the air was thick.
And the girl sitting opposite to you was looking at you a bit too anxiously, failing to be subtle with her regard. You could tell she was playing with her fingers underneath the table, a habit you had noticed many times before. Almost four years ago.
“H..how have you been?” She starts, making you look up at her.
As soon as you acknowledge her, her face drops. Like she was afraid of your judgement. She clears her throat.
“I-it’s nice to see you again…” She strains, “After all these years…you look great.”
There’s an awkward silence that goes by as you’re slow to register her words. It was as if your brain doesn’t want to recognize the situation you’re in – trying to run away from you rather than recall any more past memories.
“It’s been quite long.” You manage to make out, “I’ve been well.”
Why did you lie to her? Were you that afraid of her finding out the truth?
“T-that’s good.” Mina replies a bit too fast.
…
Another awkward silence engulfs your vicinity as you both proceed to poke holes through the table.
“All right, here you are!” A shout wakes you both, making your shoulders jump. “One glass of water and one small coffee, one cream and two sugars.”
A lady places down your coffee cup in front of you, and you exhale at the balmy steam warming up your otherwise cold face.
“Anything else?” She chirps with a small tray in hand
“That’ll be all, thank you.” Mina responds to which the lady nods and leaves with a smile
Mina watches you as you stir your coffee mindlessly. You could tell there was a lot running through her mind like you.
She hasn’t changed much. Just a couple of alters you could spot. Like how her hair’s a bit longer now, reaching just above the conjecture between her neck and her shoulder and dyed a darker color. A few more piercings graced the left side of her ear now. There was also a small tattoo on her ring finger – some sort of symbol in a mix of purple and red. On the other hand, her style hadn’t changed at all. She still wore those oversized black hoodies and white sneakers. You hide a smile as her dark top almost drowns her.
Mina was as beautiful as you remember.
Suddenly, she huffs, picking up her water.
Gulp, gulp, gulp
You gape at her with wide eyes as she drinks the whole glass in one go. She sets it down with a clang, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Then her orbs connect with yours, as she continues to stareat you with an unreadable expression. For a second, you catch her regarding the gift bag by your side.
“___, I-” She starts off strong, faced focused and seeming like she knows what she’s going to say.
But as her linger remains, she loses her grip – mouth slacking and concentrated expression failing.
“I…”
“What is it?” You say in a low yet clear tone of voice
“I…God! I don’t know how to say this!” She places her elbows on the table, burrowing her face into her palms. Her outburst turns a few heads to which you shift uncomfortably to.
“Are you alright?” You reach over and place a hand on her wrist, which has her removing her hand covering her face to stare at the place you were touching her. She spots your ring.
“Are you still with Jimin?” She whispers
“…yes.” You say, although it’s not exactly the truth.
You retract your hand and her eyes follow it till they land back on you.
“How is he?” Mina asks, even quieter than before
“He’s well.” You’re not sure how else to answer. Honestly, you didn’t even want to answer.
She scoffs, “Good for him.”
The hate in her tone catches you off guard, your eyebrows furrowing as you stare at the now frowning girl.
“…Wha-”
“Good for him. Park Jimin. Great. Wonderful. Of fucking course he’d be well, he’s the one and only Park Jimin. The nicest guy in the world. Light of everyone’s fucking life. Sweet, kind, charming Park Jimin. Let me go jump off a cliff.”
She spits each word with abhorrence laced in her tongue. Her eyes squint in anger and her fist clenches the ends of her long sleeves. You sit there, shocked and confused.
When she notices the expression on your face, she unwinds. Moving her arms off the table and sitting up.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you…I just…” Taking a deep breath, she closes here eyes to contemplate something. Before looking up at you once again, “I always wanted to apologize for what I did to you.”
…
A third silence passes you both. Your brain was now fully awake and taking in each and every word.
“There’s not a day I don’t think about it…what I did to you…the mistakes I’ve made.” Mina’s voice cracks halfway as her eyes become glossy. For some reason, your chest starts to ache. “I regretted it every single day ever since you left. And I always, always wanted to talk to you one last time. I-if that’s okay with you?”
She halts to study your reaction. You nod, urging her to continue.
“…It’s not a secret – what I did over the course of half a year. What I allowed to happen…” She sniffles, staring at the gift bag as a tear falls down her eye. “It’s just…you meet this guy, right? A polite, charming, extraordinarily handsome guy, and he’s great. And he’s married which is also great but-”
“He sees you, like…he actually sees you for you and he befriends you. And he doesn’t tell you to change unlike other guys. He doesn’t turn his nose up at your quirks and doesn’t hold animosity in his eyes. He tells you his secrets…or what you think are his secrets and he appreciates you.”
She takes a deep breath, her nose running and cheeks rosy. Taking a napkin from the table’s corner, she wipes the tears littering her face as your own eyes well up. So this was how Jimin was in her mind compared to yours. There were a lot of similarities and a lot of differences.
“And so,” Mina strains, “You fall for him. Even though it’s wrong and even though he’s m-married. Even though his wife is a wonderful person, y-you fall so, so hard. And when he kisses you while he’s a drunk, giggling, beautiful mess…you don’t stop him.”
You close your eyes as the first tears makes its way down your cheek. Even though there were a lot of differences, the feelings were the same.
“Y-you don’t stop after the first time. Nor after the second and then the third… and it just keeps going on and on and on. Until it’s too late to stop. Even though the guilt eats you alive. Even though you stop eating and stop sleeping and no one can see the bags under your eyes, when he smiles at you-”
Mina shows you a pained smile, “When he smiles at you, and his eyes crinkle and his nose buttons. You think it’s all – the pain, the secrets – it’s all worth it. Because you just feel so damn special for some reason. So, you throw yourself down the drain, become the woman you never wanted in a relationship that would never go anywhere. You lie until your teeth start rotting and hide until the shame stops consuming your heart.”
You wipe your tears with the back of your hand, trying to calm your senses by pursing your lips.
“Then one day…he tells you he doesn’t need you anymore. That you never meant anything to him and it’s over.” Mina’s stop crying now. She stares at the table once again, this time looking at her reflection in the glass. “And you don’t put up a fight, because you knew this was coming. It was inevitable. A real relationship can never be based on a lie. All you’re left with is the person you’ve become.”
“In the end…all you did was become a liar that hates herself. Someone who hurt a woman who’s been nothing but kind to her. Someone who shut everyone out till the one guy she’s wanted shuts her out… that’s the conclusion.”
You let out a shaky exhale, your body lagging and mind numbing. There’s yet another moment of silence as you process everything you’ve just heard. Your feelings…were just the same.
“I’m sorry.” Your eyes shoot up as Mina speaks up once again, “I’m sorry for what I did to you and for all the things I let happen.”
“I understand if you don’t forgive me. And I understand if you never want to see me again. I…just wanted to tell you that you were great. You were a great wife, and a great friend…a great cook haha...and a great person. You deserved better than all of this. You deserved better than all of us.”
“And...and I know how it feels…I…I dated someone after Jimin… and huh ironically-” Mina lets out a breathless laugh, “He cheated on me… and I know I deserve I-”
“No.” You interrupted her, “No one deserves that.”
Mina pauses as she stares at you, “It really hurts…it’s not just them loving someone else, but them breaking your trust and connection. Completely disregarding your feelings and disrespecting you. And something like that coming from someone you love – someone’s who’s supposed to love you…breaks you apart from the inside. And that’s why I now understand what kind of a person Park Jimin was. A manipulative, lying piece of shit who immediately uses people’s vulnerabilities for his own pleasures.”
…
“I hope one day you’re able to move on from what I’ve done but…I will always carry what I did to you. I’ll continue to fall into toxic relationships and continue to have trust and commitment issues for the rest of my life.”
You frown at the feeble girl in front of you. Was this what you wanted from her? From Jessica? Is this what you want for Tina? Would this satisfy your idea of karma?
“Thank you…for apologizing…for speaking your truth.” You began slowly, Mina’s inflamed face staring at you,
“I always tried to understand why you did it. How you could do that to me when you’ve met me and knew me and…my head was just a mess for the longest time…but now…I just hope you’re able to move on from this as well…I don’t know if I can truly forgive you but I don’t want to hate you any longer. I spent so much energy trying to hate you and the other girls…I compared myself to you, I looked down on you…I ran away from you.
“But what was it that you owed me at that my husband didn’t owe me a hundred times more?”
Trying to piece your thoughts together you sigh, “The you I conjured up in my mind was a lot more characterless and viler. But now it just seems like I was trying to blame anybody but Jimin for his own mistakes. That’s the whole idea behind homewrecker, huh? I blamed you, I blamed my mother, I blamed myself. I blamed every single person except Jimin. And I shouldn’t have. There was no one else at greater fault. Not even you… and I no longer want to do that. I no longer want to put the blame on others.”
Mina looks away once her eyes tear up again. Her body felt sore and her insides twisted painfully. There’s no greater pain than the guilt of a woman.
“In the end we were all trying to find our happiness…anyway we could. I guess…we just searched for it in the wrong places.”
The rest of the sudden meet up was spent in silence. This abrupt hush being the last one before you finished your drink and observed the traffic around you. It felt like you both had said what you wanted, like your chests were finally free of such a huge burden. What was left was a empty feeling, satisfying but still an end.
Soon, it was time for goodbyes.
And then there you were, driving home from the longest trip you’ve ever had at a mall. You sat there, steering your car on the road, thinking just one thing. All this time, you’ve remembered nothing but bad things about her. About Jessica. And now about Tina. But what was the point in accusing them?
What type of satisfaction had you gained from hating other women?
Did it stop your husband from cheating? Did it dissolve his sins?
What sort of people were Jessica and Tina, apart from the characters your imagination had invented?
There were new questions you needed answers to. And there was just one person who could help you answer them all.
Just one.
Jimin was in the balcony, drinking his night away again.
Tina wouldn’t shut up tonight, he didn’t want to deal with her. But right now, he didn’t have anyone he could trust as much as her so his feet were planted in her damn apartment. As he looks up at the bleary sky, his mind wanders back to you. What were you doing at the moment?
Tsk, he scolds himself then. Why did he always think about you in the end? What did you mean to him? NOTHING. You were a toy. A toy he ended up going overboard with almost 6...no 7 years ago from tomorrow.
A toy that was causing him problems...
Jin had called this morning. “Why doesn’t your wife know where you are?”
It infuriated him; how dare he be questioned like this. And that bastard was one to talk, he was with Jimin playing wingman anytime Jimin needed a quick fuck. Telling him he knows men shouldn’t be tied down to one woman, that men were made to pump out their population into mankind. So why was everyone acting different now?
Why were you?
He kept you under his control for so long. How did you even find out about Tina?
Why was he?
Jimin couldn’t eat for the past few days. Nothing tasted like your cooking so he couldn’t swallow it down. His sleep was fucked up and he tried to wear himself out going to the gym or having sex with Tina or someone else but nothing worked. If anything, he just felt worse. He kept remembering the cologne you came in with that one night, just which bastard were you fucking?
His grip on the glass beer is so tight, he could hear it crack. No, you couldn’t have. Jimin was sure you wouldn’t even think about another man as long as you had him. Who would?
As his heart continues to ache and yearn without him knowing why, mind numb and limbs sore, his phone begins to ring.
Speak of the devil.
...
You studied the phone in your hand, as your thumb trembled while hovering over his name.
Why was this so hard? You’ve been upfront with him for a while now. So, what is it about today – this moment particularly – where your insides would rather shut down than hear his voice?
As you once again back out from pressing his name on your phone screen, you huff, sitting up in frustration. It shouldn’t be this hard, it’s really not a big deal. So what if you had no idea where your husband was for the past week? So what if he had his own wife sent to voicemail so many times that she had become too traumatized to call him? And so what if the biggest day of your life was tomorrow and he was still MIA? All you had to do right now, was ask about his location. Drown the wild thoughts and insecurities in your head with confirmation from the love of your life.
He owes you that much.
So, with a loud sigh, you click on his name. Ready to face the truth.
Your gut drops when it rings. Falling deeper and deeper with the first ring.
Second ring.
Third ring.
Fou-
“Hello?”
Gasping at the voice, you immediately put your phone next to your ear.
“Y-yes hello?”
“…___.”
You wanted to cry. He actually picked up, he really answered. “J…Jimin.”
Your whole body shivered, as if it remembered Jimin existed. He wasn’t some fever dream you mind conjured up. There was so much you wanted to tell him, which spiked up the adrenaline in your system. Oh, how you longed to speak to him.
“I heard you called Jin…” Was his immediate response. After being away from home for so long, after leaving you in the dark. He was more concerned about you talking to someone about how he left you.
“Yeah…I-I did.”
“Why?” He sounded annoyed
“Because I didn’t know how else to reach you…”
“You shouldn’t have called Jin.” He spoke again, firmly.
Biting your bottom lip, you hold back your tears. Does he think it was easy for you? Doesn’t he realize how embarrassed you were? Can’t he understand that you wouldn’t have called him if he just picked up his phone? Jin’s seen you before, he’s made you laugh before, you know him. He’s a very charming person, it’s why he’s one of Jimin’s few coworkers that you genuinely liked. Also one of the first friends Jimin made when you moved into this city.
It’s why you were terrified that when you make the call…his high opinion of you would change. That to him you’d look like a pathetic, desperate woman whose husband casted aside. You felt so much shame and if you truly, frantically didn’t need his help, you would have never asked.
Doesn’t he know that? Does he care about you at all?
“I…I’m sorry.” You whisper
He doesn’t respond. No, you didn’t want to blame him.
“Jimin…I’m so sorry for everything…I got ahead of myself. Please Jimin…”
Still, silence.
“Jimin…I don’t know where you are…I don’t know what you’re doing but I know that I love you. I love you and I miss you and I need you so much that it hurts.”
…
“Jimin…would you please…please come home to me? Please.”
“I don’t know, ___.” He responds tiredly, “I just don’t know who you are anymore.”
By now you should have known it was useless for you to hold back tears. “You stood in that altar with me, right? You took my hand and told me you wanted to stay by my side forever. You said forever didn’t you Jimin?”
Again, you shared radio silence and you close your eyes and imagine him. His beautiful self, his past innocence. What should you do to capture his attention?
“I met Mina yesterday.”
At that you hear his breath hitch.
“W-what…where?”
“At the city mall…she’s still as pretty, you know.” You let out a giggle
“You’re prettier.” He jokes. It was so out of place but he said it casually.
You laugh. You laugh and laugh and laugh until you start to sob. Breath heaving and lungs sore, you sob into the receiver. Your face was wet, and your nose was running, you were sure you have never looked more unattractive. Being close to him once again opened up the flood of your insecurities, made you feel hyper aware of your appearance. Shame and embarrassment enfold in you once more and you feel your throat close in on yourself.
Him just casually joking around reminds you of the old days. Where you might have been broken inside but Jimin was here to mend you outside. And that’s what you needed right now, for him to glue your shards back together again. A porcelain doll is always hollow inside anyway.
“…_-___.”
You cry louder at the sound of his voice. Your Jimin…you loved him so much.
“J-Jimin-hic-…pleas-please -hic- some home…I’ll change Jimin, I-I’ll be better, so please.”
He listens to you cry and his chest aches like someone pulled his heart out. This was something he was never good at, dealing with someone’s feelings. That’s why he never let anyone get too close, even if they felt like they were. Everyone…but you. Fuck, he shakes his head. No, you meant nothing.
But he still wanted to console you.
“T…the anniversary dinner is tomorrow, right?” He starts, his voice uncertain, “I…I’ll come then.”
“You will?” You hiccup, your own tone unsure
“I will.” He says, and this time he sounded confident. “I will come back home ___, just wait for me…”
“Promise me…”
What else could you wish for?
“I promise.”
How could a little more waiting hurt you?
Jimin shuts of the phone and sighs. It seems like you were back under him, which is a relief. He smiles then, his heart soaring at the thought of seeing you again. Just imagining the look on your face would be enough to keep him satisfied for a long time.
See? You love her. A voice interrupts. It came from deep inside his chest. Conscious, they call it. He hated it more than anything. The only person Jimin loved was himself and the only person he needed was himself.
He’s not like those pathetic people that lust after him immorally. There were no similarities between him and them, there never would be. His conscious seems to disagree though, telling him once again, how much he loves her, someone like her.
Growling at his brain, he smashes the bottle down onto the balcony’s pavement. The shards scatter, glimmering in the moonlight of the pale city. He could see himself in the reflection.
And for the first time, he didn’t like who stared back.
You were waiting.
On that time of year again.
June 17th, the most special day of your life.
You still remember it quite well; the well-lit Azul sky, the light specks of sand, the calming roar of the clear waves. It was the most beautiful morning in the universe.
Yet you were a wreck of nerves, sweaty palms and jittery teeth. Jimin’s dad placed a hand on your quivering shoulder, your eyes shooting the gentle senior as he smiles at you consolingly. You were never close to Jimin’s parents, nonetheless they were always tremendously kind to you. A part of you felt so undeserving of their love, but Jimin would remind you that you have earned everything good in the world. Jimin…you couldn’t believe in a few moments you were marrying the love of your life. How and when did your life take such a drastic turn for the better?
Snapping from your reverie, you shyly nod your head at your new father and place your hand under his outstretched arm. And soon it starts – the piano melody signaling the curtains withdrawal.
As the fabric was removed from your vision, the picture-esqu sight came into view in front of you, making you hold your breath and faintly tighten your grip on the elder man’s arm. The audience immediately turned their heads, a pleasant expression of awe plastered on their faces. White and pink carnations, complimenting your long lacey dress, decorated the virgin painted benches and their petals littered the bleached soft satin carpet.
And in front of it all – the audience, the flowers, your mother – stood Jimin. You lost control of your senses when you saw him. He stood perfectly still, hands clasped together and slightly taller than usual with his heeled derby’s and straightened posture. His black suit was stitched without a visible flaw, even in this bright daylight. It elongated his limbs and made them seem sturdier – rather well put as he jut his chest out ever so softly. Your eyes couldn’t break away, even as you began advancing towards him. Jimin too, stared right at you unwaveringly, like he could see no one but you at the moment.
His hair was gelled back and brush to the side, letting the sunlight highlight his ethereal features. When you reached the end of the carpet, Jimin’s father took a hold of your hand and handed it to Jimin. As soon as Jimin’s fingers touched your palm, a spark of fire traveled underneath your skin and your arm broke out in goosebumps. He led you up the three-step stairs, into the altar where the priest stood in front of you both.
“You look gorgeous.” He whispers with a cheeky smile
You break out into a shy smile, some of the rashness in your nerves leaving you.
His eyes never leave yours as the priest starts speaking and you could feel your own eyes well up as you hear the quiet sobs of Jimin’s mother.
After the small sermon, it was time for that big question.
“Do you Park Jimin, take ___ to be your lawfully wedded wife? To cherish her in sickness and in health? And never leave her lonely?”
For a moment you thought you saw a pause in Jimin’s smile. That there was a sudden weakness flashing across his orbs. But it was over, very, very quickly.
“I do.” He states proudly, causing all the unease in your lungs to vanish.
As the priest repeats the question to you, you take a deep breath, ready to state your obvious answer.
Suddenly though, you catch the eyes you’ve been avoiding the whole time.
Your mother. Sitting in the front row.
Without a smile.
“Don’t do this to yourself.”
“Mom, please…I’m getting married in a few hours. Why is this the only thing you have to say to me?”
The older lady inhales, her nostrils flaring in exhaustion. “I’m saying this for your own good.”
“No! You’re saying this for your own sick pleasure!”
“How could you think that way about your own mother?”
“…because let’s face it mom…you’ve never cared about me…”
She went silent after that. 10 minutes of arguing and this was what made her silent.
“Alright.” She spit, bitterly. “But when he ends up leaving you, don’t come crying to me.”
…
“I never have.”
“Madam?”
You jump from your daydream.
“Pauillac?”
A well dressed, older waiter stands in front of your table. He held out a bottle of expensive looking wine.
“Oh, thank you.” You say, holding out your glass.
Fast forward to seven years, you set up a reservation at the most popular 5-star restaurant in your city. It’s something you’ve done every year for four years, a month ahead because of the place’s demand and limited seating options. Even though your nerves were eating at you, you kept yourself alive. Today is the day you’ll see Jimin again. He’ll be back home again.
Your body was yearning for his touch again, you felt yourself getting hot and cold at times for no reason. But it was alright, you were happy.
You’ve gotten your hair, makeup and nails done at a salon today, wanting to look beautiful for your husband. It was red in color and light weight, to not seem overbearing, and you wish Jimin would like it on you. Imagining him complimenting you had you unintentionally beaming. Anything and everything he’d say tonight was bound to have you convulsing inward, you were just so excited to see him again.
Having arrived 15 minutes early, you mess with the napkins and cutlery, making sure everything was straight and preppy. Your nerves were on high making you fidget and glance at the door every few seconds. Jimin’s promise rang inside your head as assurance. There was a letter clutched in your hand. Since there were so many – way too many things you wanted to tell him, you decided to write a letter instead.
He’ll be here. I know him.
Time went by a bit too slowly, so you took some sips of your wine. What should you say first to him. Oh, you should thank him for keeping his promise. That would make him happy. Then you should apologize for that night, negotiate carefully to not scare him away. You’d tell him of the progress you made, about how you were learning to stand on your own two feet so you wouldn’t bother him again.
Whatever you did, you could not afford to make him feel upset again.
As you continued to carefully plan out your time with Jimin, a voice resounded in your head.
“You spent your life trying to become someone they’d love, that you forgot about who you are.”
…
You were doing it again. Of course, you didn’t want to apologize to him…but you were more concerned with what pleased him. Sighing, you took another sip of your wine.
Where was he? You were beginning to get angsty. Tapping your foot against the floor, you signaled the waiter for more wine. 20 minutes had passed. 30. 40. Soon you were bombarded with voices echoing your head.
Lin. Irene. Yoongi. Mina. Your mother.
Everything they said over the past month haunting your insides until you shook. Stop it, you wanted to yell. All you wanted was to be in your husband’s arms. You aren’t stupid for yearning for love. Jimin promised.
1 hour.
You had begun to stare at the people around you, dressed so lavishly. They all look so content. How lucky they were. There was a senior couple a couple of tables away from you, the lady feeding something sweet to her husband. It made you smile, and your heart hurt even more. Jimin, please come soon.
2 hours.
Where was he? People were starting to notice you could tell, their shaped became nothing but eyes that beheld you with animosity. Eyes poking you in places that left you sore. You wanted to jump into a cold river. Wash away the restrictive feeling around your throat. No, you aren’t stupid for trusting Jimin again.
With a deep breath, you press his number, holding it to your ear with pursed lips. He doesn’t pick up. But you dial it again. What if something happened to him, you worry. There was a similar feeling inside of you. The one you felt when you visited this office that night. Your heart and mind pleaded with him.
Please, Jimin.
“…Hello?” A groggy voice answers
You smile – you actually fucking smile for the tiniest millisecond. Before realizing that wasn’t his voice. No, that high-pitched feminine voice wasn’t his. Your whole face falls.
“Ms. ___?”
Tina.
“H-hello, Ms-” You overhear some shuffling before you hear him.
“Kitten, who is i-”
No longer concerned, you hang up. You were so stupid.
Your face twitches, mind still frozen before the tears fall like rain. It was raining outside too.
In seconds, your makeup’s all ruined, and the collar of your dress is strangling you. With so many people in the vicinity, you try to stop your tears but it’s no use – you can feel a few stares burning a hole through your head. You don’t even care to acknowledge the waiter who cheerily walks up to you pushing a cart.
“Ma’am here’s your oh-”
He stops dead in his tracks in front of you, who’s silently heaving into the air. He’s at loss of what to do as he gapes at your wrecked state, in his sweaty palms he weakly holds the handle of the cart. On that cart laid a large 2 layer lavishly decorated vanilla-swirl cake. Jimin’s favorite. With two words written at the top in pink strawberry icing.
‘Happy Anniversary’
You had no clue where you were headed.
The hush of the car pushed you forward. Your grip on the handle was deathly, frigid arms barely holding it eerily still and not crashing into one of the pawn shops on the right out of pure fury.
After the tears came the rage. You were so, so angry. And you didn’t give one single fuck.
Fucking Jimin, perfect, lovable, charming Jimin. Fuck him.
How dare he?
How fucking dare he not show up? How fucking dare he embarrass you like that? He lied to you yet again. And you, like the pathetic woman you are, fell for it again. It was like a drug, the wrath and despair within your system. Traveling across every nerve and every stream. Feeling like tiny needles prickling you all at once. You were so fucking angry.
It kept replaying in your mind. Tina’s groggy voice, her confusion…her pity. You couldn’t control anything, not your breathing nor your anger. All you wanted to do was forget about it all. Before you did something you really regret. So, you sped to the only place that made you forget once before.
You push the breaks to a halt, your body lurching forward at the sudden stop. Turning, you look out the car window, breathing fire through your nose. The loud beating of the music silently shakes the whole road. Bright red neon lights flare into your vicinity, reflecting even the puddles of the long dead rain.
Cypher Road.
With a humorless smirk, you open the car door, stomping your way out of the vehicle. Wasting no time, you sprint into the entrance with a slight stumble in your step and are immediately greeted by dancing bodies. It wasn’t any different than that other day – if anything, busier. The noise was so loud you could stop yourself from thinking for once. You brush past the lively bodies without a care, yet there is a small warmth with each touch of flesh that has you inhaling repeatedly.
Trance.
There is a joy of being here. You hadn’t wiped the scars of mascara off your face, your hair was a mess from you pulling on it. And your dress felt even lighter than before as you stepped onto the dance floor. The atmosphere was blinding, and you had come here to be filled with its addictive ignorance. How sweet it is to not taste the bitter reality.
It was slow at first. You weren’t in rhythm with anyone, but then again when had you ever been. Spanning your arms out, you brought them above your head as you twirled once, twice – a few times. Every second you unraveled yourself, closing your eyes as your heels glided along the dance floor and you shook and turned. Swung and twist.
You wanted to lose all your energy here. Everything had to melt away.
With every move you made, your mind became light headed, stars amongst your seams exploded and the fast pace of the universe seem to lull. So, softly, you fluttered your lids open.
The first thing you saw were the bright neon green lasers, traveling across the dance floor from the ceiling. Then you notice how the whole floor had slowed, the laughing, the screaming, the motioned limbs. Everyone around you had begun moving along your timeline, your pace – the slow dance with life for the very first time. Somehow the music had lost all it’s upbeat fervor and your ears echoed a blue ambiance in its place. You felt drunk even though you took mere ounces of liquor.
Numb, you were more numb thank drunk. Your movements were sluggish and your mind in a deep haze. This is what it feels like to be high on grief. While your eyes were roaming the dance floor, they landed on someone. There was a girl, around 10 feet away from you, who caught your attention, you’re not sure why. Nothing seemed unordinary about her – not her short dress, nor her pretty face. The club was full of that. She dances as lethargic as the figures around her. What you kept staring at was the necklace she wore, the pure silver being the only color you could see on her as the darkness of the club muted all other colors.
But the second a citrus scent fills the air around you, she is long forgotten. You turn back in front of you to see him.
He, who stood a good 5 feet ahead, taller than Jimin. He, who wore an expensive suit with a colorful scarf tied around his long neck. Dusky hair and sharp eyes, a slight tan and fixed stare. It was in that moment time come to a complete halt. Just you and him, even breathing and secret heartbeats. His face tilted to the side, a smirk present on his inviting lips. You blinked leisurely.
“Nice to see you again, baby.” He said in his deep, sexy voice
You recognized his voice.
Who could forget it?
The stall door slammed open as your body was pushed inside. For the first few seconds your breath was knocked out of you, just to fit into his mouth once again.
“Mmm-ah-”
His mouth was hot, heavy and wet. The middle of your spine shivered, sending a cursing sensation all throughout your body as you held onto his arms. The warmth of his shoulders kept you giddy, your face tilting to allow his tongue in further. His grip on your hips was tight, his fingers dangerously lurking your ass. You blushed as you felt your chest pressed up against.
He bit your lip and you gasped, your fingers treading into his hair as you tilted your head back. His lips kiss down your jaw, onto your neck as you moan loudly. The air was immense, the four walls of the stall closing in on you and you didn’t care one bit. You wanted to be swallowed. After nipping the soft skin of your neck, he looks up, into your eyes.
As you stare into the endless abyss by your own glossy orbs, you could swear there was no one more beautiful.
He smirks yet again, making you clench. His thigh parts your legs as his warm hand travels along your hip line before he grabs your dress. Pulling up the light fabric, you feel his hot fingers on your bare skin. You try to hold back your voice but fail miserably as you whimper, holding onto to him tightly. Softly, his hand caresses your thigh, tender and slow. You close your eyes, your brows knitting in what you think was frustration and you hear him chuckle.
God, that voice of his.
The air is knocked out of you as his fingers land on that sweet, sweet spot. Your eyes opening to find his intense stare.
“You’re so wet, fuck.” He huffs, fondling you over your panties
Unable to properly respond, you blush. Biting your lower lip before you begin to rub yourself on him. You’ve never done that before. Taken control of the situation that is.
“Shit.” He mutters, staring you down as you shamelessly stroke yourself against him. Your freedom didn’t last long as he snakes an arm around your back, your chest crashing into his and his long digits slam into your core.
“Ah!” You grab onto his arms as he scissors your insides.
“Fuck, baby,” He grunts, his low voice making you tremble, “You haven’t been fucked properly for a long time now, have you?”
His dirty words cause you to clench, curses once again slipping out of his mouth, “I’m gonna change that tonight – shit. I’ll fuck you so good, fill your nice and pretty cunt with my cum.”
You couldn’t say anything, lips trembling and back arching as his elongated fingers fucked into you, reaching such a depth that had you weak in the knees. Thankfully his hold was tight.
“You want that baby? You want to be stuffed with my dick? I bet I’d slip in so – fuck – so easily, I bet I’d cum right away, what do you think baby?”
“Nn- oh, yes-” It slipped out, as his pace became faster, harder and you wanted to thank whoever created him for his blessed fingers. They were much longer than Jimin.
…
Jimin?
…Jimin.
In an instant your eyes shot open, “N-no!”
The guy made out a ‘huh?’ Before you pushed him away with all your strength. His back collided with the right stall wall, as you used the left one to stand up properly.
You suddenly become all too aware of the ring encasing your finger on your trembling hands. The warm atmosphere now defeated by a scorching heat. Your eyes became cloudy as images of your husband flashed through your mind. The man you swore your soul to, the man who you came home to, his smile, his love. What the hell were you doing? You were married! Married! How could you-
“H-hey? Are you alright? Was it something I said?”
The man reaches out for you, causing you to jump.
“No!” You shout again, your loud voice echoing the stalls. His eyes fill with worry and the guilt threatens to spill out your throat. Did he know you were married? How would he feel about that? What were you doing? WHAT WERE YOU DOING?!
You were wheezing without any cause. The air in your lungs felt painful, throat sore and breaths ugly. Panic…you were having a panic attack. The walls were closing in and the light of the restroom gave you a pounding headache.
“I-I’m sorr-” You manage to choke out before running out of the stall, not even daring to look back.
You ran and ran and ran. Pushing away from the heavy bodies littering your way. Sobs of pain left you, but no one even cared to look. This wasn’t what you wanted from tonight – you wanted to forget Jimin, not become him. Yet you can never forget how you reacted to that stranger, how sensitive your body was to someone who wasn’t your husband. Tremendous shame and guilt travel up your neck like parasites. Your eyesight had become blurry, all the overwhelming lights meshed together, and you couldn’t even see anymore. All that was guiding you was the reminder to get out of this loud place.
And it was then that you bumped into someone.
“___? Hey, are you alright? ___?”
A frantic voice, and grip on your arms pulls you back to reality. For a moment you just heave as he shakes you softly, grip firm and protective. Slowly, your eyes begin to clear and breathing slows. There you see Yoongi and you, standing near the entrance hall of Cypher Road.
“Y-Yoon…gi?” You mutter, out of air
“Fuck, ___, what happened to you?” Yoongi shouts, his eyes widened in concern
“You lied to me Yoongi…” You mutter
“…What?”
“You lied to me!” You cry, pulling him off of you, “You t-told me…” Your voice breaks, tears filling your eyes, “You said he did nothing but fool around with his friends…YOU LIED!!!”
The anger in your voice has him putting up his hands in concern. “W-what do you mean-”
“In there!” You scream, pointing at the dance floor, “In your precious club – is a girl with a necklace!”
“A…necklace?” Yoongi squints in confusion, his head turning back and forth between you and the dance floor.
“A fucking necklace!” You roar as he winces, “A necklace…similar to the one Jimin wore some time ago…”
“___, there are plenty of ways she could’ve gotten that necklace, maybe she-“
“No!” You interrupt him, shaking your head vigorously, “That’s what I say! Those are the excuses I make! ...But not this time. Not when I recognize that special custom-made J pendant on her neck…”
You began to cry, hot fat tears rolling down your cheeks as your throat starts to close in.
“I-I could…couldn’t even see her face…I don’t even know what s-she looks like…” Taking a deep breath, you bring your hand to your mouth in embarrassment, “Yet I know her…because she wore my husband’s necklace so proudly. Like she owned it…owned him.”
Yoongi stares at you, at loss at what to say. The people around you gave glances and strange looks time to time. But still…no one cares long enough to stay.
“___...just calm d-”
“NO!” You scream again, cringing at the strain in your voice. “I won’t! I won’t calm down! I have every right to be angry!”
“I know that!” Yoongi yells cautiously, “I understand that-”
“No you don’t– No one does! No one knows how it feels to be in my position, no one- Or else you wouldn’t have lied to me!”
“You think I had a choice? You think I wanted to purposely lie to the woman who was staring at the ground a thousand feet below her like her only way out?”
“Just-” You bring your hands up, a sudden wave of exhaustion pouring over you, “I’m so, so tired…I’m so tired of being lied to, Yoongi. Please…please leave me alone.”
“__-” Before he could say another word you were rushing down the hall, out of the building. He stared at the exit you left from a bit too long, the bright neon of the sign hurting his eyes. Everyone else danced on, carefree, around him. His husband always told him this job would be his wolfsbane.
And he was right as usual.
As he’s debating whether to chase after you, a call of his name interrupts his concentration.
“Hy- fuck, Yoongi hyung!” The pale faced man turns around to see the youngest of his pack shoving through multiple bodies in disdain. The taller man rushes up to him, breathing heavily, with a worried gaze.
“Taehyung?” The older asks with concern laced in his tone. What the fuck was happening? “What’s the matter?”
“S-she was…do you know where the girl who was just with you went? She was right here! The one with the red dress…soft demeanor…?”
Yoongi straightened up as Taehyung described you,
“How do you know ___?”
You sat at the edge of your world in silence. The winds of tomorrow’s past blew past you, your hair in rhythm with the fast-paced clouds above. For the moment, you would have preferred silence, but that was not a sentiment the city shared with you. Cars, honking, muttered chatter, you could hear it all. Passing through your ears like an afterthought. Your feet dangled as you held your heels in your hand. What were you thinking of showing up to that anniversary dinner?
What ever made you think Jimin would stop disappointing you?
As you stared at the glass structures you sighed, you always ended up back at the same place. The same kind of city, the same rain, the same broken heart. Perhaps the universe really was trying to tell you something.
A quiet hum stained your body, Keeping you sane from your sadness. It was crazy really, how many questioned can be answered in a day. With a deep breath, you reach out to into the night, stretching your arm. Hand laid flat against the air for a few seconds before you clasped it shut – as if grabbing something. What were you desperately searching for in the night?
Your husband? Your life? Your childhood?
Your happiness.
“Thought I might find you here…”
It was routine then, the sudden loud beating of your heart. Your widened eyes, your frozen physique. The shaky exhale.
…
“I…tried to find you downstairs…in the apartment…but you weren’t there…”
Jimin.
You can hear him walk towards you. And you could imagine it, hands in pocket, the wind blowing through his hair, his relaxed stance and clear eyes. It had been too long…so long, just a couple days felt like years. It felt like something grabbed onto your heart, so tight you couldn’t breathe. You were too scared to turn. To look him in the eye.
But you did anyway.
And you just knew the universe hated you. It was him. It was him. It was him. His ethereal face filled with a halo no one could replicate. He was God’s most beautiful creature. How spiteful your creator must have been.
It was him. You wanted to reach out to him.
He stared at you, reading your eyes as you read his. But you both had stopped understanding each other’s language a long time ago.
You both waited for the other to speak. Yet for some reason, you wanted this silence to last forever.
“…How have yo-”
“Did you fuck her?” You ask, your voice immediately breaking. His face turned pale. “When I trusted you…and waited for you…”
He looked away, mouth shutting and eyes squinting.
You had dreamt of this scenario a thousand times, and in each one you never came off this strongly. So, what were you doing right now? Why did you feel so guilty?
“You fucked her…did it feel good? Are you happy now that you’ve emptied your dick?” There was so much fury in each of your words, but you enjoyed watching him squirm. You didn’t even know half these words were in your vocabulary. “How has she been for the past week? Why did you even come, JIMIN? I waited, and waited, and waited in the pain of the unknown. All while you got your dick wet…And I always do that Jimin…I’m so stupid, aren’t I?
He says nothing.
“Tell me I’m stupid!” You slam a palm on the ledge, “Because you really make me feel that way! And for what?”
The tears you hold back wrapped themselves around your neck, making you struggle to get your words out. You wanted him to feel as hurt as you did.
“What have I done Jimin? What did…I do to you?” Breathing was becoming hard, your lips quivering as you stared at the beautiful somber devil. “All I did was love you, so why? Why do you t-treat me like this?”
It must have been an illusion of either your river-filled eyes or the bleak night because for a second you thought you saw despair and guilt inside him.
“I broke myself apart to try and fit into your world. Became happy for you, always did what you wanted, never questioned you-fuck I would’ve even had children if it meant you would stay with me…”
“God, I’m so stupid!” You roar, grasping fistfuls of your hair and pulling at it, “Here I was trying to be better, here I was thinking that those three girls had something I didn’t but that wasn’t it at all! M-Mina didn’t have lipstick on that night. She couldn’t have marked your shirt…but someone else did! Isn’t that right Jimin?”
You turn back to him, eyes wide and head pounding. “I thought there were only three girls…but there are many, many more aren’t there? I thought Jessica was the first time, but it wasn’t was it?”
Jimin finally looks up at you, and you realize you never said anything about Jessica. He didn’t know you knew.
“You’d been cheating on me…since the beginning…haven’t you? Here I thought I must have done something wrong after marriage…but I’ve been your plaything throughout this whole affair, haven’t I?”
He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. You slowly lower your arms, face and body still in shock.
“I’m so stupid Jimin…I felt special for a while…I’m so stupid…aren’t I?”
His face twitches, but his thoughts remain a mystery. You watch quietly as he closes his eyes, a soft exhale leaving his lips. It was too painful to keep staring at him, at the man you once loved more than anything. So you looked back at the sky, pleading for a chance to redo every single event since before you met.
“Jimin…” You whisper, voice pleading. Your sanity was on the brink and you wanted to be pulled in before you fell over. “Tell me I’m not stupid.”
“I’m letting you go, ___.”
You really hated yourself in that moment. Your name coming out of his mouth felt so good, you almost didn’t hear the first part.
Almost.
“I have to let you go.”
And the first tear falls. Sliding down your cheek easily before the next one leaks. You close your eyes, letting the pain wash away at you for the first time in a while. The fall was long, you could feel the emptiness surround you. For a second it felt like flying, unobstructed and liberated.
“…”
“This has gone…beyond my control…___. I didn’t know what I was thinking, I just...” He looks at you, but you kept yourself inside your head. Arms numb and brain empty. “…I acted on impulse…I thought I knew what I wanted…I thought it was…”
You
“You are right…I have been cheating on you for a long time now…I never loved you…I just kept this charade on for as long as I could. And I don’t know why because I don’t love you…I d..d-don’t.”
That’s what you needed to hear, right? Just like that? Everyone’s been telling you this is better for you, haven’t they? So why are all your words stuck in your throat.
“I’ll go back to T…my friend for now…I’ll be back to pack up my stuff in the next few weeks.”
And with that he gives you one last glance before he turns. That was it, that was his whole explanation. What exactly had you expected? Why the FUCK did you keep expecting? You wanted to call out to him, your heart jumping out of your chest and latching onto his turned back. But instead of uttering a single peep, you listen to his footsteps all the way back to the door.
You listen as he touches the door knob. You listen as he twists it and pulls the door open slightly. All you do is listen when you can feel him hesitate, turning around to look at you.
For the strangest reason you remember the day you met him. That bright day, the soft wind and cherry blossoms. His bright smile and angel eyes, your innocent mind and open heart. It replays in your memory like your life flashing before your eyes. The wind picks at your toes and your body itches, yearning for something you couldn’t comprehend.
So much has changed since. This isn’t the same day, the same wind. There are no cherry blossoms, or smiles or innocence. You both are different now.
This was your chance to call out to him. To jump off this ledge and into his arms. But you just sat there. Listened as he turned back and left. And it was just you and the wind once more. The door closing felt like the cover of a book closing, that this was the end.
And against the fast-paced wind that night, you accepted your defeated.
There were no books out today…
That much you could tell as you stared at the small desk between the couches, dozing off as the sunlight from the large window behind hit your face.
Much like you, she also stared. At the distance in your eyes, the iris dim and face unreadable. There were many things she wanted to ask, many holes she wanted to poke. But she remained as restrained as her profession taught. For she knew the signs of unapproachable person at first glance, having read them countless of times over.
Yet she couldn’t have you stay quiet the whole time.
“Is everything alright?” Lin spoke meticulously
You didn’t answer.
She sighed, studying you as she shifted. What could she do right now to make you talk? You’ve been so quiet these past 3 weeks, almost like you didn’t exist. Last week you never showed up, Lin couldn’t help overthinking and dial your emergency contact – Irene, who dragged you over here in frustration.
You had told her about Jimin, lifelessly stating everything that happened as if facts about your life that hold no meaning to you. She knew how much pain you were in, but your reaction to despair was abnormal since crying was the body’s healing method. It’s a healthy way to process emotion. Then the next week you became silent, were a no-show last week and didn’t speak a word today either. Lin had consulted Irene, who said Jimin had been coming over, taking more and more of his stuff which helped the therapist understand a bit more.
You were mirroring your safe space, becoming as hollow as your apartment was.
“___, please you have to talk to me. Just for a bit, alright? I can help you.”
“Do you ever…” Her thoughts were interjected as you spoke up quietly. She was instantly all ears. “Do you ever…want to redo life? If you could start all over again, without any of your mistakes…would you?”
Lin stared at you for a while. Your expression did not change, you continued to glare a hole through her desk.
“Well…that’s a difficult question ___. Even though a part of me wants to erase the mistakes I might have made… I think it’s important to have the knowledge of those mistakes…why I made them…what I can learn from them…etcetera…”
“Well what mistakes did I make?” You say softly, looking at Lin in her pretty brown eyes. “What kind of mistakes have I made…that I still – to this day – have learned nothing from?”
You were trying to hide it, but she could see it as clear as day. The barrage of emotions you tried to conceal in your pupils. “Why am I getting constantly punished and learning nothing?”
“Why?” You plead, throwing a palm over your head and slouching down in your hair, “Why should I always be the person in pain? I’m so, so, so sad and I can’t change that even though I want to!”
“Trust me L-Lin, I want to change so desperately, I want to! I want to crawl out of my skin and find a new body because everything hurts but I can’t leave me…I can’t leave me, I c-can’t leave even though he can…I can’t leave even though she can… but I can’t, I CAN’T!
“..and you know what hurts the most?” You ask her, to which she does not respond. “What hurts is that he left me…like I was the one who did something wrong.”
“…He left me.”
It falls dead silent after your outburst. The only sound echoing the room was of your steady breathing.
“W…why do they get to walk away whenever they want after everything they’ve done?”
Lin breathes out tenderly, her eyes on the glass table and the reflection of the sun behind. In moments like this, she wishes she really had all the answers for her patients. She really does.
“By she…do you possibly mean-”
“My mother.” You mumble. “The one person in the world that was supposed to love me unconditionally…the one who threw me away like a discarded doll…”
Lin blinks slowly. “It can be very difficult to deal with the trauma and pain from a parent who abandons you…” After deliberating for a bit, she speaks up, “Tell me ___, why do you think you’ve given your all to every authority figure in your life?
You sit back up after a shaky exhale. Nothing comes to mind, except Jimin’s smile. Life was exhausting.
“Be…because…”
Lin nods, encouraging you to go on.
“I wanted them to love me.”
“And why did you think being perfect at everything, work, household chores, unconditional love, would get you their love.”
“B…because…I don’t know…”
“Hmm, can you tell me the first time you noticed someone’s reaction to you being ‘perfect.’ A child hood memory perhaps?”
After thinking about it for a while, you nod.
“...When I was…in the first grade…I got an A on my math exam. I was the only kid and…and the teacher called my mom to tell her I got an A. I didn’t want to bother her so I didn’t do it. And…my mother…she smiled at me for the first time that day.”
You could sense Lin’s soft smile.
“So I tried to get more As but I guess she got used to it. When Jimin…when I would blush or be openly smitten with him…there was a twinkle in his eye. One I could never get out of my head. And I tried…so hard.” You close your eyes, “So hard to keep that twinkle alive even when I was dying inside…but I guess…even he got used to it.”
Opening your eyes, you look at your therapist. “That’s why I did it. So they could love me.”
You become quiet, playing with your fingers as Lin stare at you. Her mind was in deep thought.
“___,” Lin sighs after a while, “You know that I can’t tell you to not be upset… you have every right to feel whatever you feel because what they did to you caused you great pain…but I think it’s time you learned how to love yourself. And for that we need to address the root cause of your issues.”
“My mother?”
“Your mother.”
You nod, contemplating what she said. Learning to love yourself? That was a concept so foreign to you. Could it really help you understand yourself? What could you possibly gain from it, what was there to love about you? Right now, you just wanted to sleep forever. Forget you exist at all.
Existence is a pain itself.
Maybe you should confront the cause of your existence then.
“Trust me ___.” Lin speaks, catching your gaze, “You deserve better. You deserve to love yourself.”
Oh, you just cracked the puzzle.
She had aged.
Your mom, who was always so tall. To you, she stood over all the towering counters and tables and light switches. Compared to her, you were tiny. Someone who always had to look up at her, stretching your neck and straining your eyes. At her, who easily touched things you could only wish to reach.
She looks so small now. Wrinkles skin deep, frown lines too permanent. She, who was once the tallest person in your naïve, 5-year-old eyes. Someone you thought would always look as young, as beautiful.
As cold.
You watch her, face trained to be still. Her posture was demure, lips sat motionless and eyes downcast. She wore a light earthy dress, full sleeves and prim collar…which was so very her. It was strange to you, how at one moment you wanted her to look at you more than anything. To acknowledge you.
But today you were content in studying her with a passive gaze.
“How have you been?” She begins quietly. You stare at her, then glance at her fidgeting hands in her lap.
The atmosphere was dim, a bit too lull for a restaurant during lunch time. Maybe you were suppressing the chatter and clatter, to focus on her. Again, how fitting.
“…I’ve been well.” I have not. “How about you?”
“Good.” She replies softly, staring at her steaming tea in interest.
You sigh, your shoulders moving up and down along with your breath. What were you expecting? This is a person you hadn’t seen in 3 years. Why would she suddenly be interested in you? Why should you be in her?
At that moment, you hear small laughter reach your ear. You turn toward the appealing sound, not sure why you wanted to find its source. Yet once you took it in, you understood. It was a child. A mother, and her small child. The lady was not much older than you, wearing a blue-green dress as she fed her daughter dress in pink a small piece of the steak she ordered. They seemed happy, content in the small moment they shared, and you couldn’t help but smile at them.
What a fantasy they were living, you hope they knew how lucky they were. Everyone seems to be luckier than you. For a while you felt like a kid staring through the window of a candy shop. Tsk, how ridiculous.
“I…I’m glad you are well…”
You turn back to the fragile sound of that voice. “It…I was happy to get your call…and you suddenly asking to meet me. I felt nervous…I don’t know why.”
Surprise was well written on your face at her words. This was not what you were expecting.
“And I…” She coughs as if her voice was raspy. “How have you been? H-how’s Jimin? I hope he’s taking care of you.”
She smiles then. A slight, delicate smile as she looks you in the eyes. This is not what you were expecting. Not from the woman who’s only given you cold shoulders when you’ve asked for warm arms.
All you could think about was how she was never home for your birthday and the one time she was, you overheard her call it just another rest day on the phone with her coworker. All you could remember was asking her if she would come to your recital and she never showed, so you just sat there after the choir concert watching all the other kid take pictures and receive flowers from their family. All you could call upon was the time she forgot to feed you for almost a week, which was what made you begin cooking.
And for some reason, unbeknownst to you, you utter the thorn pressing against your brain.
“Jimin left.”
Her smile takes a second to drop. The color of her face wearing off as her eyes widen. Jaw parting as she looks at you, like a worried, petrified mother. It almost made you laugh.
“W…What?”
Concern laced her tongue and you felt anger as a natural reaction. This wasn’t it – it wasn’t how you were expecting this to go. The person you remember, the person instilled into your core would have sighed in disappointment. Gave you a cold look and a wintery frown. Told you she warned you. Why was she suddenly acting this way?
“_-”
“H-he left mom.” You say, your voice choking up, “You were right, once again. He left me, just like you said. Aren’t you happy?”
You spit the question with venom, your eyes welling up.
“___.” She repeats in that same pitiful tone. It sparked more fury inside of you.
“Aren’t you happy?!” You ask a little louder, the neighboring tables giving you a glance. “I’ll be signing divorce papers soon. You were right all along!”
“N-no, no.” She shakes her head, seeming as distraught as you. Who was this person in your mother body? Wearing your mother’s face.
“What, why?” You sneer, “Have I done something to upset you again, like I don’t know ask for some fucking food?”
“___, no. Oh my God, no.” She was crying.
It was getting hard to see as you shook in your seat. The weight of the world felt like it was on your shoulder. And as you stared at the weeping lady in front of you, you felt like a child again. A child who hid under the bed, crying because of the thunder. Desperately wanting her mother to come home. But she never came.
“I hate you.” Your tough voice broke, “I hated you so much…I never knew how much I hated you until I found Jimin…even if his love was fake at least he acted like he cared. Why couldn’t you just fucking act?”
She begins to tremble. Fuck.
“I know…how much dad hurt you, but why did you have to hurt me? I needed you. I needed you, mom. I spent every single day trying to live up to what I thought were your expectations, I thought I had to earn your love. I thought-” You take a moment, shutting your eyes and feeling the aching beat of your heart. “I thought if I was the perfect child- if I didn’t cause you trouble, if I was quiet and stayed out of trouble y-you would at least smile my way. And still you didn’t…all of my accomplishments, all of the things I so hard worked for vanished just like that…”
“Tell me…why did you…abandon me?” You look at her and for the first time something feels different, although your heart continues to constrict. She looks so small in her light earthy dress, straining her shoulders and shaking her head.
“I am so sorry ___. I am so, so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you like that, ___. I am so sorry.”
“But more than you I hate myself.” You continue, ignoring the sear of pain on her face with every word. “I hate that I can never be perfect for anyone, I hate that I can’t have a normal conversation without second guessing everything. I can’t even ask someone for help without having a mild panic attack! Did you know that? I hate how I am so sad and weak all the fucking time. I hate me, I hate me.”
“___, please, please don’t say that. Please.”
“Why, huh? So you can pretend to have a normal daughter, if you want to pretend I even exist today-”
“NO!” She screams making you silent. You could hear the whispering of the tables around you, but you pay it no mind. They were the lucky ones, they wouldn’t understand. “So you don’t turn out like me.”
“…What?”
She exhales deeply, her face morphed into anguish, “I never wanted you to be like me, ___. Never. Y-your father made so many promises to me, told me he loved me so much. I was a shy, quiet conservative woman who fell into his trap. Then one day he just got up and left. A-and I was so stuck I didn’t know what to do! No one taught me how to raise a child, I had no guidance, no family and barely any money.”
You listen to her silently. The air was thick and her breathing rapid. For some reason you really wanted to dry her tears.
“A-And then you w-were born. B-but every time I looked at you…I remembered what your father did. I remembered that I never wanted a child. I remembered that because of you…I couldn’t go anywhere and do anything, and I was trapped in the same damned town for the rest of my miserable days. I was so lonely and ashamed…I couldn’t hate you though…I tried but you were so small and fragile I just couldn’t. Yet it was easy to pretend you didn’t exist. So, I did just that…to help me cope, I pretended you weren’t there. That I never met a man like your father and he never betrayed me…”
She looks at her hands, “But I was wrong. I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have have…but I realized it too late…when you already met Jimin…”
You tense.
“Since the start…he reminded me of your father, and it terrified me. I was so scared for you, and I tried to get you not to marry him. But you hated me, and it was all my fault. You sought for the love I couldn’t give you so desperately, that it was easy for you to fall victim to someone who wanted to take advantage of you. I prayed for you…for your relationship every day, I wanted to be wrong so bad…I did ___.” She looks up at you with a frantic gaze. “I never wanted you to be like me, never ever. I did so many horrible things to you. I’m so sorry ___. I’m so sorry. I know you can never forgive me, and that will live with me for the rest of my days.”
Your mom looks back down. Her expression empty and tears still. It seems like she let out all she wanted to say and now she was a ghost. There was nothing in her…nothing. She reminded you of herself, which is why you said the next words.
“I can’t forgive you…” You speak softly and she winces. “The young me…can’t forgive you. The one who was subjected to your neglect. The innocent child striving for a mere ounce of love and affection. The part of me that you disregarded every day until even I questioned if I existed. I can’t.”
She physically deflated, as if agreeing with your sentiments.
“But-” You interrupt her acceptance, “The me now…the me growing and changing and evolving every single day. The me who’s learned to be happier…who’s learning how to find herself and converse with others…the me who has learned to heal…that me. I…can forgive you.”
And you watch her as she takes a moment. Looking up at you like a star just exploded.
“I can forgive you, mom.”
The next moments were a blur. She seemed extremely please, beyond ecstatic and you felt for her. Especially when she cried like a baby, and you think she was the child now. You mother was the small one now, the one who needed your love. And you weren’t going to be someone who repeats her mistakes. Everything you said to her was true. You could forgive her now. It would take some time, but strangely you understood her.
If Jimin left you with a child, you would have the hardest time acknowledging it. All the pain you would feel could be unintentionally directed at it. You were so glad you weren’t in her shoes. They were bigger than you could imagine. As you breathe out, you feel it all leave you. The resentment you’ve held onto for years. The resentment that grew too heavy for you to carry.
It was lifted off your back and you could breathe again. There were traces of bitterness left, staining the deepest corners, but you will work on washing them out.
“I…know it’s too late…but I will try to be better ___.” She looks at you with her swollen eyes. It was as of you were staring at your reflection.
“I think you already are.” You say with a smile, directed more to yourself.
You really were your mother’s daughter.
_
It was silence once again.
A screaming silence, that woke your inner most core as you step into the vacant apartment. You were so tired. The meeting with your mom ran longer than you thought and now you just wanted to drown into your bed. Taking off your coat, you hang it by the rack before changing into your slippers. Without a second thought, you bee line for your bed room ready to sleep today off.
But you halt in your tracks as you notice something on the dining table a few feet from you. A stack of white papers. You look around you, as if searching for someone before you look back at the table once again. It had been a few weeks since that night. Jimin would come by when you weren’t around, take more of his stuff and leave. Half of you was wondering why he was taking his sweet time and torturing you…the other half was yearning for as much time with him as possible.
With a defeated sigh, you slowly make your way to the dining table. Every single inch of this space had so many memories attached to it. Each step felt like reliving it all again. Once you bump into a dining chair, you can read the letters as bold as day.
Divorce papers.
Oh.
Jimin was working quicker than you thought. You expected his, but not this soon. It hit you then. That you didn’t realize how real of this was until this very moment, as you reread those big black letters in the stiffest font. This was real, it was happening.
Jimin was finally going to leave you.
That’s right, he gets to leave. While you were stuck washing out the resentment.
So, you let out a breathless laugh. One after the other until you were full on laughing at the situation. Oh my God, you tried so hard and for what? You tore yourself up and for who? There was nothing left of you, you gave it all away and what did that get you in return.
You were so crazy stupid, it was insane. You actually apologized when Jimin cheated on you. You forgave him multiple times. You starved yourself, you loathed yourself, you killed the young girl just wanting honest love and respect inside of you. And you cried until your eyes broke and you’re crying now.
You’re crying for the girl who once stood in that mirror, pinching every ounce of her skin till it bruised. Scourging herself for never being good enough. You’re crying for your lost dignity, handing it to someone with clumsy hands you thought were loyal. You’re crying at how you lost who you were, not only in the longest seven years of your life, but ever since you were born. You’re crying because that’s all you ever did for you.
How different life would have been if your mother had taught you how to love yourself? If her mother had taught her how to love herself? If the men in your lives didn’t continue to ravage you of all you could offer. It felt like some sort of curse.
Which is why you fell to the floor to let it all out. The tremendous pain and grief that built over the years, the horrible conditions of your body and mind. Every single pore had to leak, only then you would truly be free.
You’re crying because you wasted your life away. You’re crying because you treated yourself this way, when you didn’t deserve anything but love, trust, and honesty.
You’re crying because you learned too late of what – who you should have loved.
You were crying because your book wasn't written by you, but by somehow who couldn’t care less about you.
You are crying because of what is and what isn’t.
And trust me when I say, you’re crying for the last time.
_
You woke up today and the ache was still there, that mind numbing helpless feeling of isolation.
But instead of that horrible drilling pain to the brain, it was a small tremor in the back of your head. And for the most part, you could ignore it. Sauntering down the hall with your many files, you stop in front of the large wooden door and stare at the name plaque. The morning air felt fresh. Maybe that was why you took so many deep breaths. And another one, before knocking on the door.
“Come in.” You hear an easy-going voice and you open the heavy door carefully.
“Ah! ___, I was just about to call you! Great job at that meeting by the way, you really wowed the investors.”
Your boss sat relaxed at the front of the vast room, in the middle of her bulky brown desk like some sort of royal.
“Thank you.” You smile, stepping into her large office. The air was cooler in here and a shiver ran down your spine at the sudden chill that intruded your light purple blouse. Your skin erupted in small goosebumps, both from the temperature and the sights of your grinning boss.
Not that you didn’t want to see it, you were just so unsure of what to do when it would inevitably fade at the news you were about to share. It’s what you’ve been scarred of from your whole life, the thought of disappointing an authority figure. But seeing as how two-thirds of them disappointed you instead, you really could not care anymore at this point.
She watches you pace your way up to her desk, small inquisitiveness in her wide set eyes.
“Did you have something for me?” She asks, pointing to the files in your hand with her gaze.
“Oh, these-” You put down the big stack of gray folders in front of her, “This is just something you have to look over.”
“I see. And what about that?”
Your grip tightens around the envelope in your now empty hands. “T…This is…my resignation letter.”
Her stare shifts from the envelope to you, mouth parting to display her surprise.
“Resignation?”
Throughout your life you always thought your body was a strange one. The length of the reactions you felt had to be abnormal, you continuously believed it. Do others feel this cold when they are alone? Do others feel this upset at the sun for rising? Do they feel the deep ache of the tragic finale that was the last 7 years? You sure did. But you still got up, you still made it out of that wretched house that was too bare to bear, and you kept it moving. And to you, that’s what matters.
There was so much thinking you did last night, so many thoughts flew in and around your head. You wonder how others reflect back on their life. What regrets do they swallow, what makes them laugh the loudest? What parts do they cry the hardest and who do they miss?
You couldn’t tell, you’d only been you the past 7 years. It was useless to sonder. So you didn’t, instead you thought about who you were. On that cold floor of the house you cemented with your naïve heart, tears dried by the very air you hated, you thought about the past seven years.
And the past 4 months.
The rooftop, the club, the people in your life, the people not, the heart break, the longing. You had always been analytical, and it was safe to say you had found the answer you sought.
It was funny how the answer became so clear once you only thought about yourself, obscuring yourself from other’s needs for the very first time.
“Yes.” You state undoubtedly, cold long forgotten. “I’m resigning.”
Another sigh as you leave the room. But this one was of relief. Although a bit upset at losing her best employee, she had taken the news surprisingly well. She even encouraged you when you told her what you were planning to do after this. Irene would be glad to hear that.
Although the pain was there, it didn’t have a hold on you anymore. You wouldn’t allow it to.
“There you are!” You hear, jumping in your spot as your palm was still on your boss’ door handle.
As you look up, a handsome young man with bunny-esque features jogs up to you. His left arm was behind his back, concealing something from your vision. All you could focus on was the strain it caused his muscles.
“I was looking for you,” He comes up close and you could hear his rapid breathing. His lavender scent gentle invades your space. You look at him curiously, watching the way his face falls as he realizes where you stood, “Hey, were you meeting the CEO? You’re not in trouble, are you?”
The fact that he seemed genuinely concerned made you laugh. “I’m not.”
He exhales a sigh of relief. “Thank God, didn’t want you getting fired for being in love with me.”
For the longest time you had been avoiding him. Ever since thinking of him in that way, you ran away from wherever you spotted him. Yet you had forgotten how easy-going he was. How effortlessly he made you laugh.
“Pfft, please.” You scrunch your nose, “You’re a goofball.”
He just stares at you, a wide smile present on his face. Tilting your head to the side, you squint at him.
“What’s the matter?”
“N-nothing, you just…seem different today…from last time I mean.”
“In a bad way?”
“No!” He shouts flustered, “I-in g- a good way! You seem relaxed.”
You break out into a laugh. He really was the brightest employee. It was a shame you didn’t get to spend more time with him.
“Thank you.” You say, as you watch him blush fondly. “I feel different. Relaxed, I guess.”
I’m no longer cold.
His gaze travels down, as if he had something he wanted to say. Your eyebrow quirks at him when you remember he still had his arm behind his back.
“What are you hiding?” You ask with a sneaky smirk.
He grins back at you, displaying his large teeth. Biting his bottom lip, he swings his arm out,
“Tah-dah!”
There were suddenly a bundle of white roses in front of you, a gentle scent of freshness blew past you. You subconsciously took a long whiff, the pure layered petals creating a picture-esque image. Once your surprise passed, you were left doubtful.
A part of you had forgotten the bet.
“Roses?”
“Yup.” The man holding the bundle up to your face beamed
Scoffing, you place your hands on your hips. “Are you kidding? You expect me to believe you found roses around the building?
“But I did.” He pouts, and for a second you were ready to blindly believe him. Until you caught ahold of yourself. This lying brat!
“Where exactly did you find these beautifully healthy flowers, hmm? The backwall where even weeds don’t grow?”
“Yes, actually.” He states just as proudly, “I planted them.”
Your eyes widen at his words. “You did what?!”
He moves closer to you, you could feel his breath hitting you as his face was adjacent with yours. “I. Planted. Them.”
“T-that’s…Y-y-you ca-”
“Why not?” He asks with a mischievous glint in his eye, “The bet was to find flowers on the property, it doesn’t matter where they came from. And like you said, there’s some gorgeous land on the backwall.”
Your jaw drops slightly at his reasonings. You wanted to continue arguing but instead you just stood there watching him giggle in the most adorable way.
“You wanted pretty flowers, I got you pretty flowers.” He winks, handing you the roses. “Think of it as a one-month anniversary gift.”
Oh, right. He still thought you were new here.
His naivety makes you burst into laughter, the first genuinely happy expression you’ve made in months. It was mystery at first, but now you knew now why you liked him so much. The youthful nature, the sincerity he displayed was alluring. You didn’t have to be any front you had put up in the past in front of him, instead you were just another person. Someone normal for once.
“Thank you Jungkook.” You laugh as he proudly holds up his nose. Just as your eyes twinkle upon him, you recall upon something suddenly. Reaching into your pocket, you pull out a small piece of paper, your number scribbled on it long ago. Honestly, you couldn’t help but like him.
“Here. You earned it.”
He looks at your hand extending the paper, as your other holds the roses close to your heart. His heart beat quickens at the sight, you were so graceful and effortlessly beautiful, he wanted to know you more and more. Jungkook knew when he first saw you, the traces of a secret battle all across your face. Although he didn’t want to pry, he couldn’t help but let his heart be captured by the silent beauty that shone from you as natural as daylight.
“Thank you.” He mutters, his ears turning red.
While you look at him staring at your digits in awe, you found him to be an absolutely enchanting man. And you wanted him to know that, so you step up to him, softly connecting your lips with his cheek. You could feel him freeze under you, and it made you feel enthralled. It was nice, being in control for once.
“I’ll see you around, Jungkook.”
With that you sauntered down the hall, almost turning the corner before you hear his melodious tone stutter out to you. “T-this Saturday? It’s a date!”
Although surprised, you said nothing, just continuing to walk along the hallway. But you couldn’t help the grin that broke out on your face, thankfully obstructed from him, of course. You felt giddy all the way back to your office. Once you were there, you squealed in glee.
Through your small jumps and smiles, your phone rang, startling you. Already? You thought before checking the caller ID. In a flash your beam dropped, orbs beholding the name anxiously. How did he get your number? With a hasty sigh to calm you nerves, and an oddly guilty feeling, you decidedly answer the call.
“Hello…Yoongi?
Meanwhile, back at your boss’ hallway, a certain bunny boy hadn’t moved an inch. Argh, he felt so stupid. Why did he ask you out so fast? The plan was to first call you, maybe get to know you. But somehow, when you told him you’d see him around, it felt like a goodbye…the forever type. His gut told him he had to act quickly.
You didn’t even respond though…wow he felt dumb. Huffing, he rubs his face with his oversized hands. He didn’t blow it, did he? Should he call you tonight to make sure? Did you even want him to call? Well, obviously, you gave him your number!
As he was faced with a silent moral dilemma, he fails to register a young woman pacing up to him.
“Hello?”
He jumps with a small scream, which has the lady confused. She recognizes him though, he must’ve been one of the new recruits. Yes, the overly enthusiastic one.
“Umm, Mr. Jeon, right? You were just speaking to the supervisor, weren’t you? Can you give her this last gray file for me, please? I forgot to hand it to her.” With that the lady clacks away in a rush.
Jungkook stares at the file. She must have been talking about you. He smiles, thinking this gave him a valid reason to look for you again without seeming like a creep. This time, he’ll be more suave – more stress-free with his methods. This time, he’ll have his answer. The stretchy smile soon disappears, however, once the lady’s words fully register in his mind.
Did she just say supervisor?!
It was subtle really, blink once and you’d miss it.
Jimin softly shut the door behind him, looking into the dim living room he never quite got used to.
Did this place always feel so empty? He thought, staring at the walls with disinterest. He’s never had to be in here alone, he realizes. You were always here to warm the spaces between the loneliness.
But who was here to warm you?
It didn’t matter anymore – you didn’t matter anymore. You had changed, you weren’t the person Jimin agreed to marry. The you now weren’t someone he recognized. Time passes by too fast; he couldn’t keep up with it anymore. That’s why he wanted to end it with you as quickly as he could. Wasn’t it just yesterday he was confronted by you? Was it yesterday when he broke everything off?
He really couldn’t remember.
Oh, but his body sure did. His face grew thinner every day, arms losing the vitality his lithe limbs always presented. It was like his body realized you were leaving him and began a protest of its own. No one from college would recognize the Jimin he was now, the one who started to speak a little less. The one who stiffened his neck and sagged his shoulders. This wasn’t their Jimin.
As he stared off at the dining table, his mind recalls upon that rainy night. Where the distance between you started to grow like poisonous gas. It was the first time he felt the detachment from your side, since before you had always made yourself emotionally and physically available to him. Needless to say, he abhorred it, he hated what you had become. All without understanding the irony.
Jimin was someone who never understood his faults, too busy picking out the mistakes of others. Another thing he slighted in was confrontation, because he’s never been called out. Only when he looked in the mirror recently did he have the worst of days, lashing out at himself, at Tina at his friends and coworkers. Yes, he kept himself quite busy. Everyone was beginning to leave him, and he was getting desperate. Running his hands through his hair, he starts to trudge towards the bedroom. He was exhausted, shifting between work, leaving you and consoling Tina. His scandalous lover wanted to make a life with him, he just wanted to rest, maybe for a month or two. It’s alright though, he could just keep himself in her safety for a while before running off to whatever new toy he found next.
Once he’s inside the bedroom, he freezes involuntarily. The sight of the familiar place had his heart yearning. It made him angry, that feeling of attachment he could possibly have connected to you. You were nothing to him and these days you were a headache to deal with. He gave seven years to you, you should’ve been grateful. Now he just missed the old you, the you who would follow him blindly. Jimin wasn’t made to be questioned.
So why did he feel like puking his guts out onto the floor? Why did it wound him to blink? Face it, the voice inside sneers at him. You love. Someone like her. You’re pathetic.
No, he doesn’t.
Yet he recalls upon another buried memoir. When he first started dating you, he slept with another girl in the same week. That’s what he did to all the girls he ‘dated,’ it turned him on to know people desired even if he was ‘taken.’ It was then as he held the other woman asleep in his arms, you texted him ‘goodnight’ and a bizarre feeling came over him. Guilt. He became so afraid, he ignored you for a week. Until he yearned to see you again. And why exactly should Jimin deny himself of anything he seeks? The same situation occurred a few more times, till it became a habit like alcohol. Although it may burn the next day, in that moment you enjoy the carnal pleasure for what it was. Pleasure.
He would never admit that other women never gave him the same sensation anymore, that you and the vanilla and wholesome sex meant everything to him at some point. Never, ever. Because he didn’t love you. The beating in his head couldn’t convince him otherwise.
In all honesty, he didn’t have an answer himself. Why did Jimin marry you? He didn’t love you…you just asked him about it once. Subtly hinting to marriage when asking him about what his thoughts on it were. Of course, you’d want commitment, every damn bitch wants commitment. And in that moment, he should have shut you down. Should have used his charms to make your place clear to you. Yet he didn’t have it in him to hurt you. Instead he proposed to you the next week, thinking that you’d vanish like the other girls when he made his intentions clear. But why? Why were you the only one different? It wasn’t like he loved you.
He didn’t.
Which is why it was easy for him break it off with you, wasn’t it? So easy, that he hadn’t slept or eaten in days.
He was on the brink, his conscious just needed a little more push to take over.
Jimin wasn’t here for anything big today. Just searching for a custom J pendant he seemed to have lost a while back. Sadly, he didn’t know if it was you or not – he didn’t know where it was at all actually. Maybe he left it here, maybe he left it with another faceless girl he fucked senseless. As soon as he forces himself back to reality, he begins to look around. He was already late today, and you would be home soon…he didn’t want to run into you again.
Cluttering about, a bit staggered from his lack of forte, he steps up to the bedside drawer in one swift motion. He pulls open the drawer, running his fingers through all the items present inside. It was then that he stumbled upon a letter.
Marked with his name.
He couldn’t help but feel curious, drawn to your timid handwriting on the otherwise blank paper. Picking it up, he opens it to find hundreds of words scribbled together. Although the words were slightly messy, there were no mistakes he spotted, leading him to think you must have rewritten the letter a thousand times.
His breath was in his lungs, his feet glued to the floor. Something inside him wanted to put it back – leave it alone, his nauseous gut giving him another warning. But he began to read it anyway. Because why should Jimin be denied from anything he seeks?
Dear Jimin, the letter began and Jimin’s eyebrow twitched.
I’m not sure how to write this. I’ve rewrote it so many times already my wrist hurts. But I do want to tell you all of this, and as I am not the best at conversing my thoughts across, I would rather jot them all down. In hopes that my heart could reach you through them.
I’ve recently done a lot of stuff I never thought were possible for me. I made a friend, I learned a new interest, I took up therapy. There’s so much I want to talk about! But I’ll keep it short. Even through everything I did, I thought of you. Every corner I turned; ever route I took. Somehow, I felt you were on the other side, waiting for me.
No matter what anyone said, it didn’t mean anything to me. Just you, Jimin. And I realized, how much I need you. How I can’t lose you. I lost my mother Jimin, I lost her because I wasn’t perfect, and I know, to you I am not perfect.
But to me, you’re perfect Jimin. Which is why I don’t care what anyone says. I’m scared of coming home lost and cold, I’m scared of losing my home, which is you. I know I haven’t been great to you these past few days and the truth is I was hurt. I was alone and scared, but I should have known...I should have remembered who you are to me.
These past few years I am beyond grateful for. Thank you for spending your days growing old with me. I remember all the little stuff. Like that time, we went to the theater and you ordered too much popcorn and the aftertaste of the butter lasted in your mouth for a week. You always said me kissing you made the taste a bit more bearable. Or what about that time I got malaria and you stayed up for three days with me in the hospital? I have never seen you so scared.
That’s our love, Jimin. Those days mean so much to me, I wish you would remember them.
No person can get between us, Jimin. I won’t allow them. I want to apologize to you; I want to take everything I said back. I’ll be better, Jimin. I’ll remind you why you wanted to marry me.
I’ll be perfect, Jimin.
So, please. Come home to me...darling.
Sincerely, your loving wife.
The door slammed open and shut, breaking him out of his concentration. Jimin was too immersed, he didn’t even notice how much time had passed. All he did know were of the tears that lingered his sockets. With an aching inhale, he practically ran out of the living room to catch you by the entrance. It was like magic then, you were a sight to behold. A most beautiful fairy.
You were in the middle of removing your heels before you noticed Jimin’s presence. It made you halt in your tracks, your hand still carrying your small pumps. He holds you inside his gaze with such intensity, it makes you gulp. What was he doing here? Had he always looked this sick?
…Was he crying?
In moments he was upon you, his strong arms molding around your limbs as he exhales into your neck. You were as stiff as a board, confusion and angst swirling your mind.
“J…Jimin, wha-”
“I love you, ___.”
…
What?
“I love you, I love you ___.” He repeats, moving off you to stare into your eyes. His orbs were bright, glazed but sparkly. All you could do was gape at him.
And in the midst of your shook state, you peak at the letter clasped in his hand.
He follows your gaze, holding up the paper to you.
“Let me explain.” Jimin pleads, seeming sincere for the first time in…forever. “T-that night, our anniversary night, I wanted to come home to you. I really did. But Tina got into my head with and she...she manipulated me. Into thinking I don’t love my own wife! I was so confused, so instead I decided to listen to my carnal desires once again, push you out of my mind the only way I knew how.”
You were still trying to process everything. Why was he here again? “Wha...what?”
He looks sad just then, beyond exhausted like he was on the brink.
“I love you…___. Everyone’s leaving me these days, but you. You were always there for me.”
“…Jimin…”
“___, I…I have been in a lot of pain since I left. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat. I missed you so much. I never wanted to admit it, I always ran from it. And you were just…always so understanding…that I never looked back at my actions. Never thought what I was doing might hurt you. I’m so sorry.”
It hit you like a truck. Jimin apologized. This was the Jimin you saw that day after Mina. The vulnerable, broken boy.
“You’ve been coming on so strong…I couldn’t handle it. I thought I finally got the chance to break it off with you and be free…but I was wrong. I was wrong. I love you, ___. I don’t know since when but maybe I always had. And being away from you helped me understand that, the agony I felt. The yearning…I never want to leave home again. Your letter helped me understand! You make me a better person, ___.”
Jimin smiles, “So I’ll stay. I’m home ___. Thank you for bringing me home.”
Once again, he wraps you in his hug, ready to end the night with you in his arms. He finally feels free after so long, the spikes slowly removing themselves off his body. You were his energy, he realizes, you would help him get back on his feet. Finally, everything will be okay again, finally he can have you within his pincers once more. How he’s missed the delicious taste of eating you alive.
But as happy as he feels…he couldn’t help notice you weren’t responding.
Slowly, he unwinds from you, muddled. He takes a look at you, you who didn’t make any face. You who weren’t reacting to him the way he always knew you would.
Instead, you just glared.
It was his turn to be flustered, his turn to take a step back and process everything.
“___?”
“I…don’t love you, Jimin.”
Silence. As if you just dropped a bomb. His eyes widen, before squinting at you.
“W-what? Since when?” He almost sounds offended
“Since just now.”
“…What are you saying, ___.” He scoffs, taking your hand in his. You weren’t wearing your ring…again. “You love me.”
“I don’t.” You say more firmly, removing your hand from his. Jimin just stares at his now empty palm in surprise. “I don’t love you Jimin, and I’m not sorry about it.”
When he doesn’t retort, you sigh. “Jimin, did you know…a few days ago…I heard my secretary on the phone…she was talking to her boyfriend.” Looking down at how close your bodies were, you take a step away from him as courtesy, but you fail to regard the way his face grimaced at your distance. “He told her ‘I love you’ and do you know what she said?”
You look back up at him, and Jimin wonders if you were truly asking him for a second. “She told him ‘I know,’ just like that. Almost like she took it for granted, you know. But I didn’t think of it like that…instead I was jealous of her. Because in her mind, she doesn’t have any doubts that her boyfriend loves her. Which is why she’s able to respond so casually like that…he gives her so much love, that she never has to second guess her answer.”
Giving him a moment to register everything you said, you pause for a bit and smile.
“And Jimin…I have never felt that way with you.”
He winces.
“I have always doubted myself, second guessed your love and honesty. I always thought ‘there’s no way he could love me’ and there was nothing you did to convince me otherwise. But do you know Jimin? Do you know how many times you’ve said, ‘I know’ when I told you how much I love you?”
“_...” His voice dies
“That’s what I want, Jimin. I realize, it’s what I always wanted. That unconditional, blatant love. That’s what I deserve. I went through so much…yet I held onto you still. No matter what anyone said. And if anyone was looking at me right now, into my life, they would think I was crazy. But it was just that I couldn’t let you go. I couldn’t do it, I don’t know why. I just couldn’t…”
There was a glimmer of hope in his dark pupils.
“Even in that letter…I held back so much because I was afraid of surprising you. I could never be honest with myself. So that’s why…thank you for letting me go. For leaving me. Do you know how much I accomplished when you left me, how much I couldn’t accomplish in years? I had an actual orgasm, I left my job, I’m going to start a restaurant with my best friend, Jimin, I gave a guy my number.” His face went through many changes; anger, shock, hurt. But you continued on anyway. “All of that, just because you weren’t around poisoning me. Leaving me was the best thing you did for me, Jimin.”
He begins to tear down, tears fall in his eyes and he looks away. His jaw was clenches and his nostrils flared, telling you he was upset. But you didn’t feel satisfied, you didn’t feel happy that he was as hurt as you had been. You felt nothing for him. Maybe except pity.
Carefully, you step closer to him. Taking his face in your palm.
“And I hope, Jimin, that leaving me helps you as well. That you stop chasing after meaningless convictions and you find whatever it is that can keep you grounded. You’ve hurt a lot of people Jimin, and for that you will suffer a lot as well. Me, all the girls and people you threw away after using. We never could help each other together, but we can help each other apart. It’s going to stab for a while, and you’ll feel as cold for a very long time. But then, I’ll pray for you to learn Jimin. I’ll try.”
And that was that, the ache lingering in your heart, was pushed all the way down to your stomach. It was still there, but not bothering you as much. Not controlling your destiny any longer. In your senses a melody played in the background; a constricted melancholic piano melody dedicated to love, to the happiness and woes.
This man you stared at, the man you once loved for seven whole years, who was he now? He couldn’t be blamed for everything, you had given him chances to hurt you again and again after all. More importantly, who were you? Definitely not the same woman you’d been when you first found out about Jessica. Not Mina. Not even the new one. You were changing, always evolving and you were proud of that.
You really were so thankful that Jimin had decided not to come home that night. That he continuously left you alone, to stand on your own. Because now your legs felt stronger than ever. There were a lot of people you were thankful for, a lot left to confront but this was your story. So good job you. Your love was first and foremost for yourself. Of course, you’ll continue therapy, you’ll work hard to open a new restaurant, you’ll try to give yourself the happiness you always deserved. Not every day would be great, some days you were going to struggle and there would be a lot of tears. But they’ll be your tears, your struggles, your joy, they won’t be based off of some other person’s mood.
This was only the end of Jimin’s chapter. Your real story will begin from today.
You were never going to convince yourself otherwise. Were never going to push down your feelings and act like they didn’t exist. That was the least Jimin had taught you.
It really was nice outside that rotten cocoon.
He was quiet for the first time in ages, and you honestly preferred silence from him. There were a lot of stupid things he said once he opened his mouth. Why should he become a better person from your pain? What kind of creator allows that?
After a moment of staring at his lost soul, you take a deep breath, exhaling softly. You couldn’t stay here too long, Yoongi had called you, getting your number off someone named Joy, asking you to come over to Cypher Road. He wanted to apologize for that night, as well as meet someone. If Jimin needed help, he should go search for it like an adult.
“Ok, umm…finish up whatever you were up to…I have to head out.” You say, turning around. Jimin doesn’t respond, but you couldn’t care less how he feels right now. “And I signed the divorce papers, they are on your shelf in the closet. Tell me when they are finalized, I’ll be free all week.”
You turn the door handle, pulling the door open halfway before remembering something and spinning back to him.
“Not… Saturday though. I have a date.”
#bts#jimin#bts smut#bts x reader#jimin x reader#bts angst#Jimin angst#BTS fluff#jungkook fluff#jungkook#taehyung#R:CHTMD
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Took way too long but it’s here, enjoy!
Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32206135/chapters/82349017
Chapter below the cut for my readers who don’t prefer Ao3
Henry walked back onto the campgrounds, books in hand with Frisk following close behind. It was close to becoming 1 o’clock to their surprise.
“Guess we spent longer in the library than we thought, guess we gotta apologise to Toriel about being almost a half hour late home” Henry spoke, knowing he was in trouble for keeping Frisk away for so long.
“Mom most likely won’t mind if she knows that you were keeping me safe Mr. Henry” Frisk replied smiling. Henry nodded and the two entered the camp that was their temporary home.
“Hey kid, I’m gonna pop your books in your tent ok? Why don’t you got snatch us some lunch?” Henry asked. Frisk nodded and hurried over to the camps center to see if Toriel had any leftover pie for them. After Henry left Frisk’s books in their tent he made his way over to the medical tent, only to see Right Hand Man inside, sitting on a chair next to the table where a large container was, holding the fragments of their chief’s soul.
“Hey ‘enry” The man said, in a surprisingly soft tone. Heny set the book down on the table and pulled out a chair, sitting on it a tad awkwardly with it’s back in front of him.
“What’s up boss? Is the chief’s death really hitting that hard?” Henry questioned.
“He’s not-! No, he’s not dead.” The Right Hand Man argued. Henry frowned, knowing something was off.
“Well if he’s not dead, then how come his prized medallion is draped over the tank with his broken soul?” The white-haired man asked, tilting his head to the side.
“You shut your damned mouth or ah swear…” Right spoke with his thick australian accent adding an extra layer of intimidation.
“Okaaay, you’re going through some stuff, I’ll let you be.” Henry quickly responded. He sat up and walked out of the tent quickly to avoid getting Right Hand Man in more of a huff, just to bump into a familiar short yellow lizard. “Oh hey Doc, sorry ‘bout that.”
“I-it’s fine, have you seen the Right Hand Man? I meant to talk to him about your boss's soul.” She asked.
“Mister five stages of grief is in there.” Henry answered, pointing a thumb back to the tent he was just in. “Actually, have you seen Ellie? Meant to ask her something.”
The scientist twiddled her thumbs a bit before answering. “No, but she did leave a note saying she would be back by dinner, I have no idea where she is though”
“Damnit Ellie, be more specific next time.” Henry muttered.
~~~
Ellie wasn’t too fond of her soul trait. PERSEVERANCE had the lamest magic in her opinion, DETERMINATION could bend time, BRAVERY could teleport, JUSTICE could make people tell the truth, KINDNESS could heal and make shields, PATIENCE could freeze in place to avoid damage, INTEGRITY could change gravity, but PERSEVERANCE...it could only make plans based on a few minutes of worth of events. It sounds ok at first but in practice it’s not that great. Luckily, this came in handy for plotting a surprise sneak attack against your local government camp after they killed your boss.
The red-head was positioned behind a bush up on a short cliff only a bit away from said government camp. She pulled out her walkie talkie and leaned in.
“Hey Svensson, you got the coordinates for the government rats?” She asked, in response she got a groan.
“Yes I did, and I am still your superior, so it’s Mr. Svensson to you.” He complained on his end.
“Well Mr. Pain in the ass, ready to beam down the rocket launcher?”
“For the third time, you aren’t getting a rocket launcher. I’m sending down Burt, Carol and a few others.”
“Man, do you not trust me with explosives?”
“Not after the ‘Me and Henry are going to rob a chuck e cheese’ incident.”
“It was fun and it was one time!” She all but shouted into the device. She turned it off and looked back at the camp. So maybe exploding it isn’t a great idea. Ellie glanced over at one of the tents that was larger than the rest, and had a large red medical cross. Bingo.
~~~
“Hey Chara, can I ask you something? Do you know what happened to Asr-” Frisk started.
“No, we don’t mention him.” Chara said, cutting them off. Frisk set down their fork on the plate.
“Okaaay, then what about Flowey?” Frisk reiterated.
“Didn’t he want to stay behind? I mean, he thought he wouldn’t survive out here without a soul.”
“Well what if he was wrong Chara?”
“Don’t tell me you actually cared about that little bugger! He tried to kill you, Frisk!”
The child sighed and stared up at their ghost companion.
“He can change, he’s done it before, and he can do it again.”
~~~
The flower in question sat among his non-sentient copies in the beginning of the underground. Or was it the end? He didn’t know, and didn’t care. Flowey sighed, and stared up at the entrance to the underground. No one ever visited him, after all, he tried to kill everyone and steal their souls to become a god. That was only the second time. How would anyone forgive him? No one would. Why would anyone care about him though? He only hurts, it’s all he’s good for.
No. He won’t hurt again. The golden flower promised himself this, He pondered to himself about how to get out easily. Through personal research he deemed he could only travel for five minutes under the earth before needing to pop back out for at least another minute, as well as, it was difficult staying on the side of a wall without some proper hold. Thinking, Flowey noticed a vine that had fallen some time after the barrier broke. That’ll do.
Flowey popped down under the ground then resurfaced under the vine. He wrapped one of his own vines on it and slid up it like a snake, reaching the top in under a few minutes. He looked out at the mid afternoon sun, basking in the potential photosynthesis he would gain if he just gave up and stayed a flower forever. But no, he had to keep going.
After scanning the area a bit he noticed a camp in the distance that took up a hidden clearing. So that's where they went. He thought to himself. But hey, the worst case scenario is that it was a human camp, but he could blend in as some of the natural buttercups that grew around the mountain. It would take a while until he got there, but he knew it would be the start of his redemption.
~~~
“Ok would you rather fight an elephant sized axolotl or a hundred axolotl sized elephants? Honestly, either would do for me.” Chara asked, smiling.
“Am I allowed to spare either? If not then an elephant sized axolotl, it would give up to get to water.” Frisk answered. Henry laughed and leaned back.
“Nah, a hundred axolotl sized elephants, that way they won’t crush you on the way to the water.” He spoke. “Plus, I ain’t a pacifist, I won’t have a burden on my shoulder.”
“But those are innocent elephants!” Frisked shouted.
“What if they had caused the deaths of thousands? Then would you reconsider?”
“You’re cruel sometimes Chara.” Henry chuckled. Frisk smiled and knew, maybe more humans were like the toppats, they didn’t seem that bad.
“Gasp, I, the dead child sharing a soul with another child, is cruel.”
“Ok, ok, you two, reel it in, we’re meant to have a nice picnic, minus the food.” Frisk laughed. It was nice after most of their life living by themself as an orphan, to finally have a family. Sure, they didn’t have an exact father figure, but they had a mom in Toriel, a sibling in Chara, and now an older brother in Henry. It was everything they could ever dream of.
“Sorry Frisk.” Chara apologized sarcastically.
“Sorry kid, plus Chara isn’t as cruel as another demon I know.” Henry apologized, gazing at the air next to him like he was gesturing towards someone. But no, player was off minding their own weird business off somewhere that Henry didn’t care. They couldn’t do anything with Henry being there as a physical form. With this, they were most likely trying to chase a squirrel up a tree to find it’s home to (attempt to) destroy it.
“Speaking of whom, you said you’re in a similar boat to us, yeah? Well, haven’t seen your little soul buddy, where are they?” The red ghost asked, folding their arms. “Seriously, the fact you can see me means you aren’t lying, are you just in stage one?”
“No, they just don’t like people, and people don’t like them. They also much prefer tormenting squirrels than answering questions about elephants and axolotls.” Henry addressed. Chara scrunched their face while Henry just smiled.
That’s when the two humans felt something off, Frisk in specific heard dirt churning. Chara looked at them oddly as they weren’t sitting to feel the disturbance. That’s when a golden buttercup popped out of the ground.
“Well, that’s not normal, or I’ve been on the orbital station for too long.” The adult said, questioning himself. That’s when the flower turned its head, showing its face.
“That damned flower got out!”
“Nice to see you too Chara.” The flower spoke. “Anyways, Howdy! I’m Flowey, Flowey the Flower!”
“I can tell.” Henry sarcastically responded.
“Oh goodie goodie, the smiley trashbag comedian has a human twin.” Flowey spoke with a caustic remark, while Chara proceeded to lose their mind laughing at the realization of the similarities. “Anywho, I actually came here to say something.”
“What is it Flowey?” Frisk asked.
“Well…..” He paused. Why couldn’t he do it? He recited what he wanted to say on the way over, he knew he wanted to apologise, but the words wouldn’t form. He couldn’t say sorry, he couldn’t tell them the promise he made to himself...
He just was incapable of feeling true remorse.
“Of course, typical unfeeling flower. Will want everyone’s attention, then goes silent. Typical.”
“Chara! That was rude!” Frisk scolded. Flowey sighed, and popped back into the ground. Maybe it wasn’t time to repair that burnt bridge.
When Flowey popped back up, he moved himself next to a large tent near the edge of the clearing (as indicated by the large trees next to the tent). Chara was right, I have no soul, I can’t feel… Thoughts like that raced through his mind, he wanted to be better, but without a soul it was useless.
He stared around for something to do when he saw a tall man, leaning against a tree with a cigarette in his hand.
“Hey, Smokey! Y’know you’re gonna get yourself killed with that!” Flowey snarked loudly at the man. Right Hand Man looked down at the flower with a cold gaze.
“Wow Einstein, you’ve cracked the code and can leave the simulation now, hurray.” He laughed. Flowey was not amused. Instead he slid up the tree Right was leaning on and sat on one of the low branches. “And hey, ‘anks for the concern, but ah don’t get cigarettes that have tar in ‘em. So I’m lung cancer safe.”
“Huh, didn’t know those existed, anyways, I’m Flowey!” The buttercup had returned to his normal jovial mood.
“Nice to meet ya Flowey, I’m Right Hand Man.”
“What kind of name is that?”
“What kind of name is Flowey?”
“Touché” The two chuckled a bit, then Flowey asked the question that he completely forgot about in favor of introductions. “Say, why are you smoking in the first place?”
“Everytime I light a new one, ah ask myself the same thing. Then I remember my best friend is dead, there’s no HOPE left for anyone, and no amount of what if’s are gonna bring him back!” RIght started before going off into a tangent and yelling to himself.
“Hey big guy, calm down, there’s got to be some way to bring him back, yeah? Do you have his soul?”
~~~
Honestly, Flowey didn’t expect a yes, and he especially didn’t expect it to be stuck in such disrepair.
“Holy mother of asgore! What’d you do to him?!” He exclaimed.
“Only managed to get ‘im in by the time he was like this.” Right answered truthfully. He put a hand on the tank, rubbing it thoughtfully while the flower starred from his new-found perch on the Right Hand Man’s shoulder.
“Man, rough timing, eh? Anyways, do you perchance have a pot I could dip into? Soil is much more comfortable.” Flowey requested. Right sighed and kneeled down and grabbed a clay pot from under the table that had been left, he went outside and scooped a bit of dirt in before planting Flowey in it. He went back inside and set the pot next to Reginald’s soul tank before sitting onto the chair still left out from the events of earlier today.
“So, did you know that most likely if his being still exists somewhere, like the void, he would be in complete agony? I mean, I myself wouldn’t know as I have no soul, plus I’m a monster, but probably a broken soul would mean a world of pain?” The plant addressed, looking up at the top of the tent before facing the Aussie with the last point.
“Reg is strong, he can take it, he’s been through worse.” Right replied sternly.
“I’m just saying, if you really cared, you would be working your butt off trying to get him out of this state.”
“Shut it flower boy, Ah don’t need to hear how much of a failure I am.”
“I didn’t mean it like that!” Flowey retorted, managing to bounce his pot closer to the tank. Two vines shot out of the pot, waving about frantically, acting like arms to demonstrate his frustration. Damn his subconscious want of misery in others, he would definitely need to work on that later. “I’m not saying you failed! I’m just saying you’re lounging around crying about your problems instead of fixing them! There’s plenty of things you could do!”
“Well do YOU have any smart ideas? Or are ya just goin’ to be a thorn in mah side?!” The toppat argued back. Flowey stewed for a moment before spotting a leather book on the other end of the table, noticing a keyword, soul. He reached for it with a vine.
“Correction, buttercups don’t have thorns. Plus, this book here may do the trick!” He pulled the book to him with immense speed. Too immense in fact that it hit the glass of the soul preserving tank. It wobbled for a moment before tilting off the table.
Smash!
#shattered mirror#undertale#thsc#the henry stickmin collection#flowey#crossover#inspired#post-pacifist ending#toppat recruits#fanfic#fanfiction#also I now put the fanfic with the post#thats fun
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ok @ongreenergrasses tagged me to do this and that's how I know we're made for each other bc tagging me in things is my love language
1. How many works do you have on AO3? 20, but 13 of those shouldn't count because they're Sherlock and I am not that person anymore
2. What’s your total AO3 word count? ok I had hopes that there was some way to do this besides doing, you know, math. but. it's 169,674
3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
shockingly, #1 is Death and John Watson; or, Five Times John Watson Met Death and the One Time He Died at 615 kudos. If you'd asked me what was going to top this list I never in a million years would have said this one. I might have to re-read this now.
What I would have said actually comes in at #2, the (almost complete, dear g-d I'm so close) Come then, and be broken at 376 kudos.
#3 my beloved, my eldest daughter of a fic, Put Away Childish Things at 223.
#4 is astoundingly another Sherlock fic, this one creatively titled Five Times John Woke Up to Sherlock and One Time He Didn't (it's not bullying if it's past me I'm making fun of, right?).
#5 is a tie, with 60 kudos each, but they're part of the same series: A Great Man and Something Like Beginning, from my Sherlock kidfic (and incidentally how i met Hayls in the first place!).
I'm really committed to preserving my ~journey~ as a writer, but the outsized prevalence of Sherlock fic on my profile is making me question that decision. I feel like it's false advertising for who I am as a person now. 😅
4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I try to! It might not be in a timely fashion, and honestly sometimes I feel weird about it, but I do go through and answer a few at a time when I have a few minutes.
5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I refuse to re-read the Sherlock fic just to confirm, but I think Childish Things wins by a landslide anyway. Fic where John or Sherlock died was a dime a dozen back in the day whereas "[a genderswapped] stiles helps peter kill her best friend" is still a very particular, unique twist of the knife.
6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? this is probably going to be that Sherlock kidfic verse!
7. Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written? I absolutely do not write crossovers. No offense to anyone who does, but I simply do not understand the appeal.
8. Have you ever received hate on a fic? It was less about the fic and more about the fact that I pointed out 911 has some copaganda elements via a fic's tags, but yes.
9. Do you write smut? If so what kind? I now, as of literally the most recent chapter of the most recent work I posted, have to admit that I do technically write smut. It's super cerebral, feely smut, but you do read two people having sex, so like. guilty.
10. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I don't think I have written any fics worth stealing but if it's happened I don't know about it
11. Have you ever had a fic translated? nope!
12. Have you ever co-written a fic before? nope! I have co-written things in Real Life and I honestly don't think I have anyone that I would want to write fic with like that. HOWEVER I do have a beloved sounding board in @ragequilt
13. What’s your all time favorite ship? i literally cannot answer this, there is no way I can say decisively
14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? I had this fic from when the first of the new star wars movies came out where everyone thinks poe is dead, so finn has to become a person on his own, essentially, rather than being taught/hand-held by poe which I felt like I was seeing a lot in fic. The whole thing was epistolary, a diary that finn's therapist had him start keeping, which he then started writing to Poe. That's pretty firmly abandoned at this point, but it still haunts me and I wish I had finished it.
15. What are your writing strengths? Hayls once told me I'm really good at dialogue, and I actually think that's true. I'm also pretty good at atmosphere, I think, though no one has ever said exactly that. I do think I'm good at characterization, and that for me is really tied to how I do dialogue. I would honestly accept any commentary anyone wants to offer on the subject, though
16. What are your writing weaknesses? PLOT. not like, emotional arcs or a character's journey or whatever but. the ticky little nuts and bolts of how we get from a to z, especially when it requires a tight plot of external action. I always think about myself as (to quote @ragequilt here) someone who writes hurt/comfort, not casefic, and this is why. I'm rarely interested in writing the finer details of a mystery or an extravagant plot full of courtly intrigue. I'm probably bad at other things, too, but this is the one that stands out like a glaring neon sign to me.
17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? I think in almost every case it's not necessary UNLESS it's being done for effect - that is, if I intentionally want the reader not to know what's said. Otherwise, I'm just going to put the switch to french/spanish/hebrew/arabic/mandarin in the narration. One exception to this for me, which is really just a sub-clause under the "only for effect" rule, is when I'm writing canonically bilingual characters who would employ words or phrases in both their languages in the same sentence. Some of this is characterization - Eddie Diaz speaks Spanish or Spanglish around his family; someone writing me wouldn't be writing me properly if they didn't write the Hebrew/Yiddish/English patois that I speak in Jewish spaces. I don't want my writing to read like the over-translated subtitles you sometimes see where loan words are translated, thereby rendering the subtitles actually less intelligible. It's a delicate balance and I wouldn't guarantee I get it write all the time, especially when it comes to not othering a character I'm writing. (also @ hayls I am one of those people who always/almost always says Hashem instead of g-d 😂 for me it's a way of making sure people don't think I'm talking about Christian God™️) You will notice, though, that I do have a tipping point implicitly delineated here - if someone is speaking another language for whole sentences, I'm just going to put that in the narration; single words or phrases will be written as spoken.
18. What was the first fandom you wrote for? Sherlock (womp womp)
19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to? I've never written Destiel fic, and while at this point you might be wondering what on earth there is left to say via fic about that pairing, I have a lil thing bubbling around in my brain about bodily autonomy vs. trauma vs. helping someone not suffer from their trauma while violating whatever the brain equivalent is of bodily autonomy.
20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? whyyyy would you ask someone this, it's like asking someone to pick a favorite child. the answer will change tomorrow, but right now I think it's the still-WIP sequel to Childish Things, A Twisted Thing Cannot Be Made Straight. It's got fun witchy!Stiles, buckets of angst but also lots of fun pack shenanigans in flashbacks, lots of me working out my own feelings about childbirth and raising children, ambiguous relationships, belated grappling with trauma, and also a satisfyingly bloody climax. There are some scenes there that still give me chills to read, and I wrote them.
@ragequilt I want to see yours!
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Ten Days - Day Eight
Characters: Javier Peña x female reader
Summary: Javier is shot and refuses to take his antibiotic while recuperating. You get creative and make him a deal that ensures he will take his medicine everyday: one kiss for one pill. It's gonna be a long 10 days.
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major character injury, slow burn, mutually unrequited, angst, swearing, soft and sweet Javi, period appropriate sexism, brief mention of broken Javi
Word Count: 2484
Note: You have a bad day at work and seek out Javi to keep you company.
Read the full series on Ao3
The Friday work day ends early for you and finds you seething as you stomp up the stairs to your apartment carrying two loaded bags, one stuffed with your favorite take out food, the other clinking with multiple bottles of red wine (and one large bottle of whiskey).
It had been that kind of day.
All you wanted to do was drink yourself into a fuzzy stupor so you could forget the bullshit from today. The second you’re in your apartment, you shuck off your work clothes in the main entryway and pop open a bottle of wine in the kitchen wearing nothing but your bra and underwear. As you gulp down the first sharp taste of tart alcohol, you wander to your bedroom. By the time you’ve washed your face, put your hair up out of your face and changed into comfy shorts and a ratty tshirt, your glass is empty. It’s a good thing tomorrow’s Saturday because you can tell right now you’re probably going to have a major headache in the morning. You click on your record player and turn up your favorite Bruce Springsteen album, then snuggle into your couch with your food, another full glass and a trashy romance novel. A few bites into your meal, though, and your train of thought wanders back to your day and you lose your appetite.
How dare they! How dare they all. YOU were the one responsible for that intel. After the shit you’d had to do to track down that punk bartender and get him to talk...no one even bothered to acknowledge it. Not that you required them to stoke your ego and tell you how great you were, it wasn’t like that at all. It was when you were passed over despite your hard work and someone else completely undeserving earned the praise that infuriated you. It was always that way (most of the time, anyway). Every single male colleague you worked with always seemed to overlook the fact that, more often than not, you brought things to investigations that might not normally have happened; that you worked as hard as they did...oftentimes harder. You had to to be successful in a man’s world. You were damn good at your job. As cliche as it sounded, you often thought it as your woman’s intuition...an idea that many people scoffed at, but you knew was actually a legitimate and important trait. But today had been more than just the usual workplace sexism. Once again you had been overlooked as being an integral part of the team. It happened so often by now that you were still surprised when it stung so much. Today you had just felt like breaking. So you had left work early...not even bothering to clock out or finish your paperwork.
Fuck them!
You couldn’t stop yourself this time. Tears began to fall again (Christ, when did you become such a crybaby?!?) and you shoved your face into a throw pillow as you sobbed for several minutes, getting the anger and frustration out of your system. It was so unfair. And you knew that if you had been born with a penis and were in the same situation, it would be a different story all together. You also felt a pang of longing: if Javier hadn’t been sidelined and out of commission, you know he would have had your back today. He was the one exception to the sexism you experience (most of the time). It had taken some coaching on your part when you had first become partners; he had made his fair share of blunders that had hurt you and been unfair. But he had always listened when you had called him on his bullshit, when you had explained how the things he had done or said made you feel, explained how they were not fair solely based on the fact that you were female. Early on he had acknowledged when he was wrong. He still occasionally did or said something thoughtless, but he usually was quick to recognize when he was wrong and he had inadvertently become your champion when things like today happened. Though you hated to admit it, when he spoke up to others on your behalf, it made you feel good...although it also enraged you that a man’s voice pointing out your hard work was heard by the other men in a room rather than them all just recognizing it on their own. Javi would have stood up for you today if he had been there.
Thinking about your partner reminds you that you should probably check in with him before you get too tanked...you definitely don’t want to interact with him after you’ve had as much wine as you were planning to have...and after you’ve been reading things you know you’ll encounter in your book.
You snatch up the bottle of whiskey, not bothering to hunt down his keys and patter down the hall to his apartment, tap, tap, tapping on his door, enjoying the soft buzz the wine was making you feel on the edges of your thoughts, eager to make sure he was set for the evening so that you could get back your own apartment.
As soon as Javi opened the door you realized immediately that you had made several critical errors despite only being one glass of wine in. His eyes immediately traveled down your body, taking in your exposed neck; it was unusual for you to wear your hair up like this. They roamed further and assessed your t-shirt with hardly any elastic, the collar hanging low and dipping off one shoulder. Despite the fact that you swam in the material, it was obvious to his keen eye that you were not wearing a bra beneath it. You started to shuffle a little as his eyes traveled further and raked down your bare legs, his lips curling into a smirk when he saw your bright yellow, fuzzy socks. You rolled your eyes at his roaming gaze. My champion...you thought sarcastically.
“Hey!” You said loudly, snapping your fingers in front of his face a few times then waving your hand in front of your own face, drawing his eyes away from your exposed legs. “My eyes are up here, Peña. You don’t need to be lookin’ anywhere else.” He shot you a guilty grin, knowing he was caught and you felt some pressure leave your chest. After his apology last night and the unspoken sweet moment that followed, you were afraid things might be weird between you. Thankfully, though, things felt ok...until you see the smile drop from his face and his forehead crease in concern.
“What happened?” He asks. You pause, confused by what he means. Then you realize: you had just been sobbing into a pillow in your apartment...no doubt your face looked as puffy and red as it felt. You held up the bottle of whisky.
“I got passed over for another commendation today.” Your voice was full of false cheeriness, edged in steel and highlighted with fury. Javi’s eyebrows came together “Agent Dickhead got it instead. Want to have a celebratory shot with me?”
“Sure,” and he stepped back from the doorway to let you in.
***
Javi was appropriately outraged along with you at the injustice of the entire situation as you sat at his kitchen table. After inviting you in, he had gotten glasses for you both as well as a bowl of chips and you had poured them each a drink. Out of the corner of your eye, you had seen him glance at you to check that your back was turned and you had watched as he knocked back a pill from the bottle next to the sink, keeping his back to you, and making no mention of it. One shot had turned to two and you both went back and forth between chuckling and spitting ire over for the incompetence of the man who had wrongfully received the recognition that you deserved. After your partner poses a particularly explicit hypothetical question regarding “Agent Dickhead’s” relationship with his mother that leaves you clutching your sides in a fit of giggles, he sighs.
“Sorry I wasn’t there. I know you don’t need me or anything like that, that’s not what I mean, but…” he trails off for a moment and fiddles with his glass on the table before finishing. “...I just wish I could have said something. You don’t deserve to be treated like shit.” You sigh too and lean back in your chair.
“Thanks. I appreciate you saying that.” You sit in an amicable silence. Then you shift in your seat, stretching your legs from where you had tucked them up under you “I should go. I don’t want to keep you, I just…” your frustration from the day hits you again like a ton of bricks and in the next instant, to your utter horror you are blubbering into your hands, your shoulders shaking, trying not to sob hysterically in front of what you are sure is your mortified partner.
You hear his chair scrap across the kitchen tile and you feel more than see him kneeling next to you on the floor. Before you can react to his closeness, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his solid frame. You think for a moment that you should pull away...but you just can’t. You breath him in as you lay your head against his chest and cry into his shirt, the soft smell of soap and cigarettes giving you something else to focus on besides your hurt and rage and you feel your tears start to subside just a little. He buries his face in your hair for just a moment, taking a deep breath and releasing it in a heavy sigh, then he props his chin on top of your head, tightening his arms a little bit more around you.
You stay like that for a while, his arms cocooned around you, you letting him hold you while you cry yourself out. He’s told you before there is nothing more terrifying to a man than a woman in tears and you know how uncomfortable it makes him feel. This isn’t the first time you’ve cried in front of him; it’s happened before on a few occasions, but it has never resulted in anything quite so intimate. He usually slings an arm around your shoulders or simply sits next to you patiently, waiting until all of your tears are spent. And then there had been that one terrible, dark time when you had found him curled up in the locker room at work at two in the morning, his head clutched in his hands, shoulders shaking, silently sobbing into the wall. You had never been so frightened of anything as you had been then, seeing him so broken in front of you. You had held him and the two of you had never spoken of it again save for his grunted thanks the following day.
You close your eyes and allow yourself to feel safe, feel small, feel cared for, even if only for a few moments. Your breath comes in shallow stutters as your breathing begins to regulate. Reluctantly, you pull back, sniffling and wiping your nose with the back of your hand. You touch the wet front of his shirt, chuckling your apologies, embarrassed. He shakes his head and shrugs in response and you force yourself to look at him.
His eyes are full of something that makes your heart pound. The longing from previous nights, a reflection of your own hurt, and something that can only be described as adoration. He brings his hands from around you and frames your face along your jaw, his thumbs carefully tracing the trails your tears have made on your cheeks, wiping away the last of the wet streaks.
“You ok?” He gruffs softly, the question reflected in his soft, sweet brown eyes as they search yours. You can only nod, hypnotized by the incredible tenderness you see in his face. For all of the resolve you have always had that has kept you from crossing the line with this man, you have never felt so much weakness as you do in this moment. Every part of your being screams at you to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him; to beg him to touch you, to make love to you. You know if you did he would oblige you. He would make you forget how hurt you are by work, make you feel like the most special person in the whole wide world, make you splinter apart under his ministrations. All you had to do was close your eyes and lean forward…
...Before you can convince yourself to act or not, Javi makes the decision for you. Cradling your head in his hands, he leans forward, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to your lips. It lacks the heat of the last time your lips touched, but strikes a perfect balance between chaste and lustful, pressing just long enough to be more than a peck, but not so long that either of you get lost in your desires. He pulls away after a few tender moments, pausing as he does just millimeters from your face, his eyes open and studying you carefully, taking a moment to breathe in the air from your exhalation, his lips hovering over yours. Your eyes remain closed, though, unable to look at him for fear of wrapping yourself around him and shoving him to the floor to ravish him. He lowers his head, his forehead brushing your mouth and he lets out a shaky sigh. He whispers your name as though casting a spell and you open your eyes, staring at his lowered head until he raises it again.
He looks at you for a moment longer, then rocks back onto his heels and pulls himself up to standing, taking you along with him. You stand a little too close to each other for just a moment, heat crackling across the small space that separates you, your palms flat on his chest, his hands resting on your elbows before they drop to his sides. He takes a small step back and the raw desire you see in him frightens you.
You mumble your thanks for the company and the drink along with an apology for losing your shit on him. He waves you off, telling you not to worry about it, never breaking eye contact. You swallow hard and blink before saying goodnight and making your way back to your own apartment, your legs suddenly feeling like they’re made of jelly and your heart pounding so hard you’re amazed he doesn’t hear it all the way down the hall.
Day One
Day Two
Day Three
Day Four
Day Five
Day Six
Day Seven
Day Nine
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The mistletoe conspiracy
Pairing: Crowley x reader, Dean x Castiel
Written for: @spnchristmasbingo
Square filled: mistletoe
Warnings: none
Summary: you and Sam have placed a bet on Dean and Castiel, and set the limits for it. You can't push them, but the mistletoe tradition gives you an opening. When Crowley decides to help, for the sake of creating mayhem, the rules are bent.
Words: 2763
This can be found on AO3, here! If you’re interested in the whole series, you just have to click here!
You and Sam are discussing in one of the library nooks, keeping your voices low to avoid unwanted attention. When you realize that, subconsciously, Sam is signing the words, you tease him a bit, smiling.
“You picked up new habits, uh?”
He looks confused for a moment, then he realizes that his hands are still signing something. He grins, definitely at ease. “Yeah... good ones, from time to time.”
“Yeah... anyway, creating the right circumstances cannot be seen as disqualifying.”
“You can't shove them together and tell me that it's not a manipulation!”
“You don't think you can conspire without your favourite demon, right?” Crowley's voice behind you makes you both spring and turn to him. “Guess I should have made myself heard.”
“Yeah, you should have” Sam deadpans, making Crowley grin.
“What were you discussing with such secrecy, then? I thought that with the new world order you finally realized the benefits of telling things. Are you feeling nostalgic already?”
Before Sam snaps, you explain to Crowley what's going on. If you didn't, he'd just keep tormenting you until he gets an answer, spoiling the whole thing.
“We have a few bets going on in the bunker, about Cas and Dean. Sam insists that if I should weaponize the mistletoe to encourage them, it would be unacceptable. Clearly, he's just scared to lose fifty bucks.”
Crowley thinks about it for a moment. “I want in.”
“It's not a pool, Crowley. And I wouldn't take money from you in any case.” Sam spits out, a sour look on his face.
“Come on Sam... what's the harm in letting him in?”
“Why is he still here again?” Sam asks you, definitely annoyed.
“Because I asked him.”
A moment of silence and bedazzlement falls on the three of you. Since you arrived, Crowley just stayed around you, coming and going, but mostly sticking by your side. The most you did was not protesting about this. Admitting you actually want him there... that's not something Sam or Crowley were prepared to hear. Surely you were not prepared to say it.
Sam manages to untie his tongue first, and gives you a knowing look. “Of course you did. Fine... mistletoe allowed, then, but no pushing, ok?”
“Yeah, got it.”
“Eileen and I are going out for a milk run and then dinner. We're picking up the last things for Christmas dinner and a few more bottles. We'll be back later tonight. If you think of anything while we're gone, just send me a text, ok?”
You nod and try to focus and understand Sam's words, but the feeling of Crowley's stare on you is hard to ignore. When Sam leaves you two alone, you finally look at Crowley. He's studying you, apparently.
“What?” you snap, unable to stand the tension or his silence. He knows how to make you uncomfortable, and he enjoys it immensely, or so you think. The truth is a bit more shaded than that.
“Nothing. I just don't recall you asking me to stay.”
“Well... I called you, didn't I?”
“Yes, but...”
“And I asked you to... come pick up chestnuts with us, and you helped with the decorations, right?”
“Correct.”
“So... that settles it, I guess.”
He nods, biting lightly the inside of his cheek. You noticed he does that when he's thinking about something, and you'd die to know what's now going on in his mind. Instead, you look at the high ceiling of the bunker. You're going to use the doors for your plan, that's for sure.
While you walk away, Crowley follows you, once again, without even having to ask for it. He still looks like he's plotting something, and your curiosity can only be kept at bay for so long.
“What are you planning?”
“You know... there might be an easier way to convince Dean and Castiel to act on their ridiculous mutual pining and free us all from this tired show.”
“Of course you just happen to have a plan lying around.”
“You know me. Now... do you want to hear it, or the less you know about it the better?”
“What do you want in exchange?”
“Can we consider this your Christmas present?”
“Hell, no!” you laugh it off. You surely are not expecting the former king of Hell to give you anything, and in any case you wouldn't waste your present on something that's just a matter of time before it happens.
“... half of the revenue of your bet, then?”
“Half of my... what do you plan to do with twenty-five dollars?”
Crowley surprises you brushing the tip of his fingers on your cheek, closing in on you. “Do we have a deal?”
Without even talking, you nod at him. He leans closer to you, his grin impossible to ignore. You instinctively move closer to him, inhaling his scent and trying not to gulp, but he draws back.
“Good. I'll see you later, love.”
“What? I thought you'd help me!”
“I will, I keep my word. Do your thing, I'll do mine. Oh, and... tell the kid. I'm sure he'd like to be involved.”
You don't even have time to protest that Crowley is gone, leaving you alone. You take a deep breath, trying not to overheat and be irritated. You just openly told half of the Winchester family that you are the reason why their once nemesis is casually spending the holidays with you, and said nemesis just decided to bail. “Fucking typical.” Is all you mutter through you teeth before heading to Jack's room.
About two hours later, you and Jack are done. You skipped dinner, but during the holidays it's not really possible to stop eating, so neither of you is hungry. Jack has been touching the mistletoe and working a bit of his mojo on the twigs to keep them fresh. He then hanged them around with his powers, following your precise instructions.
Dean has kept to the Dean cave for the whole time, while Castiel is in the library, reading and just showing up from time to time to cast a curious glance or an amused smile at Jack, who seems absolutely ecstatic about this new discovery.
What you don't realize, is that Jack is indeed a kid, but he's also much more acquainted with feelings than what you think. He's not part of any of the bets placed in the bunker, which might as well find a new life as a gambling den, but he's been looking closely at all of you. And he brought Crowley back for a very specific reason.
“So... do you think it's going to work?”
You wink at him, confident. “Sure. We basically plastered the doors with mistletoe. They are bound to find themselves under these together, especially if you think about Cas' idea of personal space.”
“Oh. So... what shall we do now? Just... sit here and wait?”
“Well... Crowley has a plan for this, too. I think it's fair to assume that tonight we're going...”
“SON OF A BITCH!” Dean's voice echoes through the bunker, interrupting you. By now you've learned to read the interjection like any other of his phrases, and he doesn't sound on high alert, just very exasperated. Jack looks at you, quickly catching on.
“Crowley's plan?”
“You heard how pissed he is? Of course it's Crowley.”
Not even thirty seconds later, Crowley stumbles in the war room from the corridor, walking backwards to not turn his back to a furious Dean. The same Dean who has what looks like a halo of mistletoe floating about a foot above his head.
“Crowley, if you don't take this thing off I'm ganking you, I swear to God.”
“God is dead, Squirrel, and your ex girlfriend is hands off, remember?”
Dean lunges at Crowley, who simply moves aside, avoiding the assault. “You know, it really goes well with your eyes.”
“Alright, listen here you son of a bitch. Now you're gonna take this off, or I'm ripping your head off.”
“Now, Squirrel. That's not really in holly jolly spirit, is it?”
Despite your best attempts, both you and Jack cannot stifle a laughter. The look of Dean, going around with a gracious little mistletoe crown gracefully hovering above his head while he tries to catch Crowley is simply too amusing to stay serious. Unfortunately, judging by Dean's stare, he's not enjoying the whole situation as much as you do.
“Y/N, this is entirely your fault for bringing him here.”
You openly laugh at him. “I don't know, Dean. I think it gives you the right touch of holiday spirit.”
“Take this thing off or so help me!”
When Castiel joins you in the war room, he tilts his head on a side for a moment, looking at the scene in front of him. Crowley is now standing next to you and Jack, while Dean is glaring murderously at you all.
“What's going on?”
“That damn bastard stuck this stupid thing on my head and it won't come off!”
“I see. How?” Castiel asks Crowley, who just smirks.
“It does come off, actually. You just need to respect tradition. It's magic, so I wouldn't waste grace on it.”
“What?” Dean seems shocked at the idea, and looks at you, awkward and angry. “Well, after all you brought him here...”
“I wouldn't do that, Squirrel.” Crowley's tone is controlled, but extremely threatening. You shoot him a questioning glance, but he keeps staring at Dean, who grabs the twigs and tries to pull them away again, with no success.
“Crowley, I swear.”
Castiel sighs and looks at Dean. A surreal silence falls on all of you, while you all try to anticipate what's going to happen and simultaneously look away. Well, except Crowley, of course.
“Come on, Feathers. Your protégée is under the spell of an evil demon. Your action is needed.”
If looks could kill, Crowley would probably be reduced to a smoking pile of ash on the floor by Castiel and Dean. With a sigh, Castiel moves closer to Dean and puts his hand on the unwanted ornament over his head.
“He's right. This is magic.”
“Yeah, Cas, we established that already.”
“I'm just trying to help.”
“Well...” Dean hesitates. He'd rather die than do this in front of Crowley, but all in all... it's not going to be that big of a deal. And if things go as he plans for them to go, it won't be the only time he's going to have to. Not judging by how close to you he's standing now, at least.
“What is it, Dean?” Cas asks, and Dean is left speechless once again. Finally, the urge of not wasting another chance outweighs everything else: the expectations, the fears, the doubts and the shadows creeping in the darkest corners of his brain. The only thing that matters now is that Cas is there for him, once again, and he is not going to waste another chance like he did with all the other.
He leans in, moving closer to Cas, who just stays still, the faintest hint of an understanding smile pursing his lips.
Their first kiss is barely a kiss, the lightest brushing of lips against lips, eyes fluttering close for a moment, and then a quick, awkward drawback. Dean is so up in his thoughts that he jumps when he feels something falling on top of his head. Smiling, Castiel takes the twigs in his hand and walks to Crowley.
“Next time you want to practice magic, I suggest you involve a willing participant.”
“That didn't go too bad, didn't it?” he remarks with a very satisfied grin on his lips.
Knowing that Dean won't stay quiet and awkward for much longer, you wisely opt for getting away from there. You also know, by Castiel's look, that they could use some privacy. You nudge Crowley and Jack and hint at the end of the library with your head. You quickly walk away and give the two the space they need.
Once Jack happily sinks in an armchair, you head for one of the cabinets and fish one of the good bottles and two glasses, offering one to Crowley. He steps close to you, and carefully takes in the sight of you. He looks at your hands holding the glasses, moving them on the small space, the focused stare on the neck of the bottle when you try not to spill even the little drop that sticks to the glass. He loves the care that you put in every small gesture, and when you offer him his glass his fingers graze yours lightly while he takes it.
“Thanks, kitten. To what shall we toast?”
“To another one of your brilliant plans, I'd say.”
“And to you winning a bet.”
You smile and click your glass against his one. “Cheers to that!”
You smile, happy to see Dean and Castiel finally acting on their feelings. It was long due, and the idea of Crowley, despite being really simple, was exactly what was needed.
You are so focused on finishing your scotch that you don't notice Jack walking away, leaving you two alone.
Meanwhile, Crowley is staring at you, completely absorbed in his thoughts. He could spend hours studying the way your eyes twinkle reflecting the lights of the hall. He could write pages filled with love and lust about the way your lips curl in a barely-there smile. He'd pass his time grazing your neck with the tip of his fingers, just to kiss the goosebumps away from your body.
You feel the weight of his stare on you, and turn to look at him with a curiosity so innocent that he can't hold back a smile.
“What is it, Crowley?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You were... looking at me. I thought you wanted to tell me something.”
He shrugs, taking your empty glass from your hands and setting it down next to his one. “I appreciate beauty. Is it so strange?”
“And you look at me?”
His smile doesn't dim while he answers you. “Where else?”
“Oh, shut up.”
“Make me?”
You laugh, awkward. He always finds a way to keep you on your toes, and he surely has no will to be subtle about it... but that's him. That's the demon you grew to care for, definitely too much.
You missed him more than you'd ever thought possible to miss anyone when he was gone, and when he was brought back... you were happy. So happy that you didn't care about Dean or Sam staring at you, and just went to hug him. If they noticed how emotional you were, they were graceful enough not to mention it. You almost lost it when Crowley hugged you back.
Just when you are finally about to take a step back, something brushes the top of your head. You curiously look up, just to see a small branch of mistletoe floating midair.
“Crowley?”
“Not my doing, kitten. Maybe someone is expecting you... us to follow tradition.”
“I...”
Your stare falls on Crowley's lips, only to find them curved in the softest smile he's ever given you. You nod, not trusting your voice enough to speak. He places a hand on your cheek, brushing your cheekbone with his thumb. You study his dark green eyes, taking in the imperceptible streaks of blue almost hidden in the dim lights.
He moves as close as possible to you, stopping just a second before touching your lips. “God, you're beautiful.”
You close the distance between you and smile against his lips. You smile for everything: his words, his hand on your cheek, the warmth of his soft lips.
He kisses you gently, without hesitation or rush, savoring the moment and your taste on him.
His hand rests on your skin, while you open your mouth and deepen the kiss. His tongue touching yours sends a pleasant shiver down your spine and you inhale sharply. You can feel his signature smirk making an appearance while his hand slides on the nape of your neck and buries through tour hair, pulling you as close as possible.
When you finally break the kiss, you rest your forehead against his one, grinning. “How's that for tradition?”
“I'm sure we can do better than that.”
“You know... I've heard the naughty list is incredibly funnier than the nice one.”
“I'd be a lousy demon if I couldn't move you there.”
You giggle and peck his lips, taking his hand and heading to your room.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thank you for reading!
I truly hope you enjoyed this little story. Every kind of feedback is very much appreciated, just as much as likes and reblogs!
Please, do not repost or copy my works or part/s of it, not even if you give credits.
Forever tagging @raspberrymama <3
#spn#spnchristmasbingo#canon divergent#crowley x reader#crowley x fem reader#dean x castiel#christmas fluff#spnfic#spn fic#writers on tumblr#fanfic#fluff
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confectionery kisses (fat gum x reader)
summary: “I know you’re enjoyin’ me, but -- uh -- can I kiss ya?” The alcohol hit him fully now; the hero too enumerated to be bashful. Steamie looked up and was greeted by lemon color eyes that held utter kindness.
xxx
lord forgive me bc this is so wholesome it killed me!!! but basically, bakery!au ft. meet-cute w/ drunken kissing shenanigans~! (well it's 1 kiss ok but it is what it is)
author note: i’m considering a part 2 that picks up where this leaves off, but w smut. if that’s sumthin anyone would b interested in, pls lmk~!
reader is nonbinary/afab!
word count: 2,130
my ao3 for more shitposts~!
my ko-fi~!
my inbox is open 4 requests :3c
Focused, flour caked hands kneaded the dough before them. The young baker too engrossed by the magic of dough to notice a soft chime sound through the shop. Customers weren’t uncommon for them. Steamie’s Bakery was a word-of-mouth local treasure. A bewitching pastry shop that had the best donuts, honest. Steamie -- as they prefer -- adored their neighbors praises. Steady streams of patrons in a ‘hot spot’ for criminal activity wasn’t exactly the best business decision. However, this run-down homestyle bakery -- and it’s holes -- were theirs.
Steamie hummed as they worked. Their mind was stuck within sugary confectionery.
“Hey… y’all open?” This man’s voice was gruff and carefree. A smile wrapped in his syllables.
Fat Gum stood within the tiny bakery. His form dwarfed the modest space; the edge of his hood scrapped against the ceiling as he waited for a response. The BMI Hero was surprised his lumbering footsteps hadn’t alerted the owner. Was it possible he had misread the sign? Work had drained him recently. Fat Gum had practically dragged himself to Steamie’s Bakery. Locals babbled constantly about the place, and he desired a quiet bite after hours. The quant business was one of the only eateries open at such an hour.
The abrupt sound whipped the enamored baker from their task. Warm eyes glanced up, irises bright and alive despite the time. “Hi. Yes! Yes, we are. I’m Steamie.” Their eyes met the giant man who stood awkwardly in front of a display. He looked so out of place, the man’s body bulbous and impossibly large. Steamie guessed by the man’s rather campy mask that he was an off-duty hero. A species of hero not seen often around their street. The area deemed too dangerous for such leisurely activity.
Truth be told, Steamie didn’t care about heroes. Or villains. The tall baker instead hyper focused upon baking. A hobby that morphed into a job. However, a small voice inside Steamie wanted to impress the man. He seemed so friendly and looked so… cuddly. Like a sentient teddy bear. A man composed of pillows and kindness.
Fat Gum furrowed his brows. The BMI Hero seemed to be in deep thought over exactly which eclair to buy. He had never seen so many flavors before. Strawberry, blueberry, cherry, watermelon. Every flavor sounded as delicious as the last. Pink tongue darted out between his lips and teeth. A sugar overload was tempting. Simple black coffee wouldn’t cure this sluggy fog. Besides, he had burned away precious fat today. It was a treat.
“Steamie? Does your quirk help with your work?” Fat Gum asked, as he scanned the pastries. He noticed their designs now. Soft and lacy intricate artwork that intertwined on each eclair; each pattern unique and perfectly executed. Every baked good was a labor of love.
A snort escaped Steamie; the sound high pitched and hearty.
“I wish. No, I just emit a puff of steam. I’m basically a glorified dehumidifier.” Steamie brushed flour decorated hands against their apron. The young baker was keen to serve the hero. Hero culture wasn’t an interest of theirs, but the physical embodiment of a pillow was too enticing for the baker. They wondered what exactly their job was. ‘Due to his size… maybe rescue?’
It was now Fat Gum’s turn to laugh. Rumbly and soft. “I don’t do rescue. Say, uh, how much are these eclairs?”
Rambling out loud was habitual for them. Their thoughts grew legs of their own and walked out into tangible space. They were immune to the embarrassment of it, instead accepting their odd trait.
Steamie slapped a dusty hand to their forehead. “I don’t have price tags..?” The sentence was in limbo between a question and an answer. They had rearranged the shop recently. Changing pastry stock required innovation. The elclairs before Fat Gum had been a stroke of late night genius. Birthed from the desire for a gooey center and intricate lace. A happy medium for the proud baker.
The baker quickly stepped behind the counter, dust flew from their hands. Diligent hands eventually found a leftover tag and wrote down a price. Patrons caused Steamie to envelope themselves into baking. Most days, flour and powdered sugar felt impossible to wash off. Almost like a second skin; signs of their success.
Steamie beckoned Fat Gum to the counter. The BMI Hero obliged; pep in his gait.
“Here. Don’t go thinking you’re getting a discount!” Steamie’s laugh echoed in the bakery as they handed the hero price tags. Fat Gum could swear the baker’s body vibrated from the sound. “I’ve been busy lately. Cakes and pies don’t sell themselves.”
The hero’s smile grew like marigolds; fast and vibrant. Steamie didn’t mind looking at this hero. His posture was proud, but hid something. A mystery Steamie couldn’t quite figure out. ‘Kinda interesting…’
“What’s interesting?” Fat Gum asked, the giant of a man still enamored by pastries.
“You know my quirk; what’s yours? It’s probably super interesting.”
The hero’s face contorted into a mix of confusion and admiration. ‘Does she not know who I am?’ “My quirk is fat absorption. I don’t usually look like this!” A laugh erupted from the man. His notoriety meant everyone knew of his quirk. The banter was refreshing. Fat Gum enjoyed the naivety of the baker.
Their conversation died down as Fat Gum perused baked goods. Steamie wandered back to their original post. They almost forgot the hero was in the shop. Heavy footsteps dissolved any fantasy of peace and quiet. Little moments of serenity were scarce, but nightfall brought the quiet Steamie craved. A meager smile etched into the corners of the baker’s mouth. They hummed as they worked; now fully absorbed in kneading dough.
“Hey,” the hero’s gruff voice broke the silence between them, “hope it’s not too much trouble, but I’m ready to be rung up!” His words carried an airiness to them; like cotton candy. Steamie wondered if this was a natural state for Fat Gum.
Steamie nodded, again wiping their hands on their apron. Dusty fingers worked at the register and completed the transaction between the two.
Fat Gum stopped short of the door and turned to the baker still stationed at the counter. “What’s your name?” He asked with childish curiosity, as if Steamie’s name was a mystery.
“Like I said, I’m Steamie,” they replied, eyeing the hero. It wasn’t uncommon for locals to ask what their real name was, but as far as Steamie cared, Steamie was their name. An abstract, genderless name that suited them.
Fat Gum laughed, a hearty sound that echoed through the empty bakery. Steamie swore display cases shook. Almost reminiscent of thunder. “No, uh, your… Your real name, unless you prefer Steamie. It’s cute.” A tint of red dotted his cheeks, unable to hide the embarrassment that painted his face. He didn’t intend to tell the baker; the compliment had slipped past him.
“Steamie is who I am. Is Fat Gum not who you are?” They chose to ignore the comment, it was muttered anyway, as if the hero was embarrassed. It was polite to not intimate customers.
“Toyomitsu,” the hero said and pointed to his chest; a smile stretched across his face.
“It was nice to meet you, Toyomitsu.”
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
Fat Gum -- or Toyomitsu as he preferred -- was absent from the shop, until several weeks after their first meeting.
It was closing time and Steamie was locking up. Despite their dingy location, the baker only carried two keys; one to lock up and the other to unlock their apartment. There were better things to steal than confectionery.
“Long time no see, huh, Steamie?”
The thunderous voice obviously belonged to Toyomitsu; unique and hearty.
The baker flinched at the sudden noise and swiftly turned to the BMI Hero. His face was no longer taunt and long, but instead, squishy and soft. Chubby cheeks that were made for pinching and a soft, bulbous belly. The man before them sounded like Toyomitsu, but his hefty frame was the opposite of the hero Steamie met.
“You’re… Toyomitsu, right?” Remembering names wasn’t one of Steamie’s strong suits.
A light blush crept across Toyomitsu’s face, ending at the tips of his ears. “That’s me! Kinda surprised you remembered, it’s been awhile.”
Steamie nodded and finished to lock the door, pocketing their key.
“I was wondering,” Toyomitsu began, “if you wanted to get a bite. It’d be my treat!” The hero’s tone was excited, like a child asking for a sweet. ‘He’s so enduring like this… reminds me of a teddy bear.’ Steamie’s lips curled into a petite smile. A secret between friends.
In truth, Toyomitsu wanted more than a dinner date, but any meaningful relationship is built on friendship. At least that’s the advice he offered to Red Riot. The pro hero wanted to kiss the baker and pinch their cheeks; all while cooing at them.
“No thanks, I’m exhausted from today,” Steamie replied. They saw Toyomitsu’s wide grin falter and felt a pang in their chest. ‘His face is just too cute!’ “Actually, I don’t live far from here, and I have some left-over pastries. They don’t sell like my eclairs.” Anything Steamie baked was delicious, Toyomitsu decided.
“Sure!” He eagerly replied. A grin encompassed his face as the couple walked towards the baker’s apartment.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
The BMI hero sat across Steamie as the baker dove into another work related story. He adored the spark in their eyes, like tiny sprinkles decorating a vibrant treat. A treat he wanted to admire and cherish. Watching Steamie become animated while they talked caused Toyomitsu’s heart to quiver against his ribcage.
Steamie -- to their credit -- truly opened up after several cups of wine; slurring and excited. Their thoughts were no longer accidental blurbs, but drunken fragments.
“...an’ that’s why I don’ keep sugar an’ flour!”
Toyomitsu nodded, tufts of blond feathered around his forehead.
“Wanna touch your cheeks, can I?” The baker asked, their voice small and childlike. This was the first sentence that wasn’t a slurred mess, and yet, Toyomitsu still felt heat bloom in his cheeks.
Gently, Toyomitsu brought their small hand -- that his own dwarfed -- against his cheek. The baker’s touch was warm, like fresh baked bread. Without realizing, the hero nuzzled into Steamie’s palm.
‘So soft…’
“Yeah, you are.” The alcohol had made Toyomitsu brave, lion hearted and flustered.
Pink sprinkled across Steamie’s face as they withdrew their hand and buried their face within their palms. “Sorry,” the baker slurred, “you… You look so ‘oft.”
Toyomitsu chuckled at the mumbled apology. “S’ok, you’re cute.”
Steamie let out a soft gasp, “Cute? Dunno ‘bout that! But I think your cheeks…” They weren’t accustomed to compliments, especially compliments from a teddy bear. ‘Wanna bury myself in his chest.’
“You can.”
Steamie’s face was uncovered and ever red, the baker unable to justify hiding the inferno that burned into their cheeks.
The baker devolved into a red and squealing mess; unable to form coherent sentences, like little pieces of creamy confectionery. The pro hero wondered what their plush lips felt like pressed up against his… They looked so small, so delicate. A treasure he wanted to covet. The hero’s large, calloused finger reached up and quickly swiped across the supple flesh. ‘Like a flower petal,’ Toyomitsu thought.
The baker drifted into Toyomitsu’s lap; scorching and far too big for their frame. “Ya smell ‘ice,” Steamie mumbled and buried their face into the gigantic man’s chest. Fluffy and cozy, like a pillow. “Like a pillow!” Steamie couldn’t help the outburst. Toyomitsu wasn’t a man, but a plushie they wanted to bury themselves in. He was velvety and felt like home. The baker inhaled his scent, trying to memorize the floral notes of his laundry soap. Vanilla and honeysuckle.
Toyomitsu petted their hair, running his fingers through long strands. Even their hair was soft. Steamie was a squishy marshmallow he wanted to keep. He wrapped an arm around their small body, hyper aware of their delicate structure. Warm hands began to rub Steamie’s back as they nuzzled against Toyomitsu’s sweatshirt. ‘Feels like a hug.’
“I know you’re enjoyin’ me, but -- uh -- can I kiss ya?” The alcohol hit him fully now; the hero too enumerated to be bashful. Steamie looked up and was greeted by lemon color eyes that held utter kindness.
Their tongue refused to cooperate, the baker only able to produce a curt nod. Their face was a blazing wildfire, a vibrant array of pinks and rogues.
Slowly, Toyomitsu pressed his chapped lips against the baker’s mouth. The kiss was slow and sloppy, neither party capable of coordinated motion. Toyomitsu brushed his tongue along their lips and tasted sugar. His mind was clouded with lewd thoughts of the baker as he finally broke the kiss; greedy lungs heaving -- desperate for air.
“Ya taste good, wonder what this tastes like,” the pro hero pondered. His hand gently palming between their thighs.
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