he barely wants to let go of her

2

He watched that pulse, the evidence of her heart, matching his own beat for anxious beat. He saw the damp curve of her neck, the gleam of her brown skin. He wanted to … He wanted.

Before he even knew what he intended, he lowered his head. She drew in a sharp breath. His lips hovered just above the warm juncture between her shoulder and the column of her neck. He waited. Tell me to stop. Push me away.

She exhaled. “Go on,” she repeated. Finish the story.

The barest movement and his lips brushed her skin—warm, smooth, beaded with moisture. Desire coursed through him, a thousand images he’d hoarded, barely let himself imagine — the fall of her dark hair freed from its braid, his hand fitted to the lithe curve of her waist, her lips parted, whispering his name.

One of my least favorite things in the Prisoner of Azkaban film is the handling of the Scabbers-Crookshanks narrative, and more specifically how in the movies it’s a far more one-sided fight completely in favor of Hermione. In the movie we get one scene of Ron warning Hermione to keep her cat away from Scabbers—a Scabbers who is apparently not ill or who Ron isn’t bothering to medicate like in the books, and a Scabbers that Ron can apparently almost forget to bring to Hogwarts necessitating his mother to run after the train to give the rat to him.

Jump to Scabbers suddenly being missing, Ron accusing Crookshanks with no evidence and Hermione defending her cat. The two are angry, but there is no real emotion, no actual hurt behind the words. Crookshanks could have accidentally spilled Ron’s inkwell and he would sound just as angry.

Then not minutes later, they are in Hagrid’s Hut where their friend miraculously produces the rat—not without chiding Ron “you should take better care of your pets” which automatically frames the situation as Ron’s fault to the audience. To drive the point further home Hermione, rather than simply be relieved and happy for her friend that his pet was not actually eaten, immediately starts in with “I think you owe someone an apology”. Ron purposefully acts obtuse, and further removes himself from the audience’s sympathy by replying “Next time I see Crookshanks, I’ll let him know” allowing Hermione a self-righteous “I meant me!” as if this is the greatest affront of her life.

And none of this is how it is in the book. At all.

Firstly, Crookshanks makes multiple attempts on Scabbers’ life throughout the novel in front of the Trio. This is partly because Hermione continues to allow her cat near Scabbers despite Ron repeatedly telling her not to. Because he cares about Scabbers. Despite him being a hand-me-down and a bit dull, Scabbers is his pet and Ron cares about him. He gets him—likely expensive—tonic when Scabbers begins losing weight and fur, he takes to carrying him around to keep him safer from Crookshanks. Scabbers is his pet and we are shown that Ron would be very upset if he were to lose him.

This sets the stage for when he does, when Pettigrew as Scabbers fakes his death and frames Crookshanks. Keeping in mind Ron’s feelings about Scabbers this whole previous year, his resulting actions make perfect sense. He is incredibly upset with Hermione and confronts her, only for her to deny her cat had any involvement.

And yeah, maybe it seems like he’s being mean to Hermione by shutting her out—something that Harry also does during the Firebolt fight that is conveniently left out of the movie—but look at it from Ron’s point of view. Hermione’s pet was attempting to kill his pet all year. He repeatedly requested she keep her pet away from his, and Hermione largely did not respect that boundary. When confronted with pretty damning evidence considering the circumstances, Hermione still refused to admit any possible blame and defended her cat who almost certainly—again, considering the circumstances—ate his rat. And just a note, Harry is equally convinced Crookshanks did it, even if he’s not as emotionally charged in his conviction. Why shouldn’t Ron be angry with her? Why shouldn’t he want her to admit her cat’s fault? His friend refused to listen to him all year and is now seemingly disregarding his feelings because she’s too proud to admit she’s wrong.

But here’s the thing. Once Hermione comes to Harry and Ron with the news about Buckbeak losing his trial—something far more important—they make amends. In fact it is Ron who does the most. Just to refresh everyone’s memory:

“They can’t do this,” said Harry. “They can’t. Buckbeak isn’t dangerous.”

“Malfoy’s dad frightened the Committee into it,” said Hermione, wiping her eyes. “You know what he’s like. They’re a bunch of doddery old fools, and they were scared. There’ll be an appeal, though, there always is. Only I can’t see any hope…Nothing will have changed.”

“Yeah it will,” said Ron fiercely. “You won’t have to do all the work alone this time, Hermione. I’ll help.”

“Oh, Ron!”

Hermione flung her arms around Ron’s neck and broke down completely. Ron, looking quite terrified, patted her very awkwardly on the top of the head. Finally, Hermione drew away.

“Ron, I’m really, really sorry about Scabbers…,” she sobbed.

“Oh—well—he was old,” said Ron, looking thoroughly relieved that she had let go of him. “And he was a bit useless. You never know, Mum and Dad might get me an owl now.”

(Prizoner of Azkaban, pages 291-292, Scholastic Hardback Edition)

Harry barely says anything in this scene, and it is mostly Ron who extends the olive branch. This makes sense as the matter primarily concerns him and Hermione, but I just want to make it clear that Ron is not pressured into forgiving her, he is not grudging about it. In fact, he is already offering her his help before she even apologizes, and once she does he immediately tries to downplay his hurt feelings over Scabbers’ loss—mostly out of a fourteen year-old’s discomfort with crying and hugging from girls they may or may not have a developing crush on. He doesn’t gloat over the apology or being right, and he instantly drops any hostility.

This is chapter fifteen out of a twenty-two chapter book. Hermione and Ron are not feuding up until nearly the end of third year, as depicted in the movie. Hermione does in fact apologize about Scabbers while Ron is not an ass about it, and the narrative leaves them off on mostly even ground. The rest of the book consists of Ron working on the appeal for Hermione as she prepares for all her exams, worrying over her impossible schedule, her health, and so on. They barely even bicker that entire duration.

Ron is a great friend to Hermione. The movies just didn’t want to show that.

In Control - Stiles Stilinski

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Stiles Stilinski/Reader

Word Count: 6,977

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Oral (Both Receiving), Public Sex, Unprotected Sex, Protected Sex, Jeep Sex

Notes: Guess what guys! This was a request! I absolutely loved this idea. This was so fun to write. And I couldn’t wait to get it out. So I will probably be regretting life at work seeing as it is 3:30 in the morning right now. BUT THIS WAS SO WORTH THE 13 HOURS OF WRITING. I hope my lil nonnie (though I DO know who requested this, I will not divulge) loves this ❤️

Request: can you do a stiles smut where the reader is possessed by a powerful goddess or the reader is a demigod and she can regain her powers/stay in control by having sex with someone? and that stiles is her anchor? TYSM ❤️

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It feels nice

Bucky x reader 

Notes: angst(ish), PTSD, fluff, service dogs, isolation, masturbation. 

Summary: Bucky’s been going through the motions ever since he got back from his last tour, missing one arm. Then he meets a girl while walking his service-dog Ziva at an ungodly hour. She might be the breath of fresh air he doesn’t know he’s been missing.

A/N: Hi guys! This story is a one shot AU.Hope you enjoy it! x

There’s something -everything- so calming about being outside before the crack of dawn; sure, it’s because Bucky has trouble sleeping and wakes up at four in the morning and is unable to go back to sleep, but, still. It’s like the world is his own for a while. A short while, maybe an hour before the first early birds show their faces, but a while at least. Usually long enough for him to clear his head after another short night of sleep, maybe after being awoken by a nightmare.

Having a reason to go outside, is even better, gives him a sense of purpose; even if his German Shepard, Ziva, usually gives him the stink-eye for waking her so early.

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You Understand Right? (Part 2): What Happened?

Characters: Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader / Friend!Reader, Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader / Friend!Reader, Bobby Singer

Length: 1294+ words

TW: Suicide. Depression. Abandonment. Character Death. 

A/N: There was so much interest in continuing this fic! I am so glad you guys enjoyed it, and I really wasn’t expecting this to become a series! Feedback is encouraged!

MASTERLIST


“Dammit, Y/N! Don’t you dare hang up the phone! What the hell do you mean?!” Dean paced around his motel room, running his fingers through his hair continuously. They had just wrapped up a case in Nebraska, and was planning on visiting Bobby for some down time. Sam reminded his older brother that they haven’t seen Y/N in over several months, and he had been missing her.

“I understand, Dean,” she answered vaguely. Dean’s heart was thumping against his chest, as he tried to understand her message.

“What- What is it, sweetheart? What do you understand?” He started throwing clothes into his duffel bag, knocking on the bathroom door where Sam was currently showering.

“You and Sam need each other… But you don’t need me.” With that, she hung up.

“Y/N? Y/N?” Dean shouted into the phone, knowing that it would be futile. “Fuck.” He hung up his phone, and knocked louder against the bathroom door. “Sam! Get your ass out here.”

Sam opened the door with only his jeans, his face lined with annoyance. “The fuck Dean?”

“We’re leaving NOW!”

“What’s going on? Did you talk to Y/N?” Sam quickly put on his shirt, seeing the gravity of the situation in Dean’s eyes.

“Yea, but she kept saying things,” Dean answered vaguely, shaking his head as he continued to pack their stuff. 

“What did she say?”

“She kept saying how she understands- how she knows that we needed each other, but we don’t need her.”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Why makes her think that? She knows we love her.”

“I have a bad feeling about this, Sam. C’mon.”

Both brothers made their way to Bobby’s house with tension between them. The four-hour trip only lasting 3 hours with Dean’s driving. Nothing else had been said. Nothing else needed to be said. Not until they find Y/N, hopefully alive. 

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Touch of Your Love

 Hey guys! This is an imagine based on this textpost: “when his hands are so nice u just want him to put his fingers in your mouth.” When I saw it, I was like…. me @ Tom…? Basically, it’s as smutty and fluffy as they come, so I hope y'all like it!

Touch of Your Love

She loved his hands because they always engulfed her own.

She loved his hands because they were always warm, but never sweaty, or ever cold.

She loved his hands because they would always be there to guide her to safety.

She loved Tom’s hands because of all the things they did to her in the vehemence of their everlasting moments together.

They would wind themselves like vines against her skull, softly aiding her to wherever he wanted her the most. Sometimes, if Tom couldn’t wait, they’d hold her down against his touch while he worked his fingers, tongue, or hips against her.

Pressing her legs together, she cursed herself for thinking of Tom’s hands when she should be focusing on her professor’s lecture.

There was an in-class discussion occurring about Tennessee Williams’s play, ‘A Streetcar Named Desire,’ which happened to be one of her favorite plays, but she just couldn’t get Tom’s hands, and everything she’d like them to do to her, out of her head.

Her mind wandered to their morning together.

Whenever he was in town, they’d always stay together, no matter what the two had going on individually the next day.

Tom awoke earlier than she did, even though he didn’t need to be up yet because he had a rare free day from work, and he’d turned off her alarm and instead kissed her awake.

After he’d managed to untangle her from him, Tom had gently pushed her hair from the nape of her neck to pepper it with kisses. Then, he pressed hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses down her body, and over the sweater she’d stolen from him to wear bed.

Stirring slightly, she shifted in bed, causing the fabric of the sweater to reveal her midriff. Tom thanked the goddess of love for this blissful opportunity, and began trailing his fingers up and down her body.

She moaned in her sleep and Tom smirked, cracking his knuckles.

He dipped his calloused fingers into the sweet, pink panties she wore and tapped his forefinger against her clit, moving his mouth up to tease her neck with warm licks and kisses.

“Wake up darling,” his voice rasped against the base of her throat.

She awoke, wide-eyes and wet, with Tom’s untamed curls tickling her collarbones and Tom’s fingers preparing to curl inside her.

“Look at you, so lovely and ethereal.” Tom meant it too. He just couldn’t wrap his brain around how she always managed to look like an unearthly, delicate fairy when she awoke, while he resembled an exhausted bear. “Let me give you something to think about while you’re in class.”

Barely rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she burrowed her head back into her pillow and whined.

Tom didn’t make any move to further her pleasure, instead he propped himself up on one elbow to observe her clearer.

Wiggling her hips around, she tried to make Tom understand that she so desperately wanted him to give her something to think about in class.

“You know what I need.” Tom said.

She knew that Tom was waiting for her consent to go further, just as he always did. He always wanted to make sure that she was okay with what they were doing, so he always gave her time to agree or disagree.

“Please Tom,” she finally breathed out, curling her own tiny hand around his wrist.

With that, Tom moved in to kiss her, dragging her off the pillows, so that she’d be closer to where he needed her to be.

Her hair had fanned out around her head in an oh-so-fitting halo, Tom thought.

His mouth pressed urgently against her soft lips and his hands pushed her underwear down and she kicked them off the bed.

Tom hitched one of her legs around his waist, and cradled her hips to his own, his morning wood pushing against the warmth of her center.

Bringing a hand up to his mouth, he sucked three fingers into his mouth to slick them with saliva. She could’ve moaned at the sight.

Tom snuck his fingers back down to where she ached for him, and he pressed one against her clit.

“Fuck,” Tom groaned, doing his best to maintain his cool, “you’re fucking drenched for me. Did you wake up with this in mind, sweet girl?”

Her eyes rolled back when Tom slid a finger inside of her, doing his best to help her prepare for his others.

“Dreamt about you last night sweetheart. You were on this bed, lingerie and heels, all for me. Said you’d been a fucking bad girl and needed a punishment, so I had to drag you over my knee and spank you till your ass was cherry red.” Tom knew she loved being talked to in bed.

Tom couldn’t figure out why, but she was still shy and a little uncertain of herself when she was with him, and it made her feel better, and less embarrassed, to know how badly Tom wanted her too.

He rubbed the palm of his hand against her clit and used his other hand to press her bucking hips back down onto the bed.

Tom guided another finger into her and she gasped his name.

“And then I wake up, and see you looking like a fucking angel, all curled up against my chest, and it was too much, darling. I could feel you breathing, and hear you gasping in your sleep. And then I thought, I gotta fucking have you before you go to class, you’re too much, baby.”

Her thighs squeezed him closer to her and she kissed him, ever so softly, on the throat, her hands guiding themselves up to the nape of his neck.

Tom could tell that she was close, she always held onto him when she came.

“You’re getting close, aren’t you angel? Let me see you cum, darling, I need something think about after you’ve gone too. Come on, darling, let me see you finish.” Tom curled his finger inside her and mercilessly rubbed her clit.

She screamed and tried uselessly to lift her hips off the bed to force his fingers to delve deeper inside of her.

“Tom, please, please please.” Her eyes were fluttering, unable to stay open because she was too focused on Tom’s hands.

“What is it, m’love? Want another? Ask me politely and I’ll give it to you. You know that I’d give you everything, you just need to ask.” Tom kissed her lips and used the hand on her hips to trace hearts on her bare skin.

“Tom,” she was barely breathing, “please, I need another one.” She tried to shift her hips up to meet his hand, but Tom only smirked and held her down firmer.

“Of course, darling. All you had to do was ask.” And with that, Tom slid in another finger and began to use his thumb to draw the words, ‘I love you,’ on her clit and he wanted her shake, and moan, and grip his shoulders.

“Cum, my sweet girl, you’re alright, I’m here. Cum.” Tom ordered, and with that, she did.

Her legs shaking, and her body trembling, and countless ‘I love yous’ fell freely from her lips.

Tom wished that there was some way to bottle up those words, so that he could hear them, breathed into his ear whenever he wished.

He held her close and rubbed her back while she recovered from her early morning orgasm, and he counted each freckle that painted her skin.

“Wanna help me clean up?” Tom asked, bringing the hand that she’d gushed all over, up to her lips.

She tipped her head back opened her mouth, clearly understanding what Tom meant, and he dipped his fingers into the wet confines of her mouth.

Her lips closed behind his hand as she sucked and licked his fingers clean of her.

“Holy fuck,” Tom groaned, rubbing himself through his boxers.

She released him with a pop and Tom hurled himself at her, winding his hands into her hair as her pulled her on top of him.

Sitting so she straddled his lap, she smiled at him.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” Tom murmured, looking up at her and lovingly stroking her thighs. “Go on and get ready, or else I won’t be able to let you leave.”

She clamored from his lap with shakey legs and crossed to the bathroom to begin her morning routine.

Tom laid back in bed, tugging at himself softly while she pranced around the room, removing shirt after shirt, before finally cheekily smiling at him over her shoulder as she settled on one of his sweaters.

He removed his hand from his pants and walked to the door to kiss her goodbye, promising to pick her up for lunch after school.

As she walked to her friend’s waiting car, she looked back and blew him a kiss before rushing to the vehicle.

When Tom had finally seen her off, he leaned up against the door and jacked himself so hard that when he came, he shouted her name.

Little did he know, that now, in her lecture, all she could think about was wrapping her pretty, pink lips around the length of his cock.

Worry

When Harry is so much of an overprotective Dad, he doesn’t even know who he is anymore.

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an au where kara’s pod crash lands right by fort rozz, since that was what indigo locked onto to get them all out and astra finds her instead of clark and immediately takes kara away because i’m p sure a lot of astra’s hatred of alura was bc she thought, for over 10 years, that alura didn’t heed her warning and that her pride was more important than kara’s life, but all the Fort Rozz escapees would still want Kara dead so Astra takes Kara and then they go into hiding

but Kara’s curious and wants to do more than hide and sometimes the best way to hide is in plain sight so she goes to school and sometimes uses her powers more than she should and stands out a bit more than she would have with the Danvers, more than a little bit because the Danvers at least had a baseline to be like no, no that is something you can’t do as a human and that is way beyond current human science no, you can’t correct your teacher on Newton’s laws Kara and she’d definitely seek out her baby cousin, even if he’s not so much of a baby anymore, although Astra would be right there with her and probably would get into a big fight over custody and in this version, yeah Astra wouldn’t let Kara go to a human family when Kara has her Kara’s cousin wanting to spend time with her but him dropping her off w humans to live? Yeah no, she’s not risking her niece like that.

So Clark actually spends time with Kara maybe, but more so as Clark Kent, and maybe takes Kara to visit the Danvers so she still knows Alex pretty well and Clark makes sure she’s signed up for school and help her with English and History (Clark’s no slouch in the math and department, he took Calc III, but this girl is barely a teenager and already running rings around his comprehension. His only consolation is that although Astra can keep up, it’s keeping up, not out pacing Kara.)

Tbh the main way he convinces Astra is that humans are really good at art–and look how animated Kara is after taking that one art class with people her age! And yeah, they’re still on the move and Kara would totally fly to school from like a different part of the country and have her home address be Clark’s place in Metropolis bc yeah they kinda have to keep on the move a bit–and kara wants to explore, and so does astra, she’s bored–but yeah she goes to school in metropolis

and maybe Clark’s like. shit. shit i am in my 20s wait you know who has a kid sister? Lex. What was her name again? Oh! Lena. She’s smart so she can keep up with Kara, and she seemed nice. Maybe they’ll get along! And oh yeah, Lois has a little sister, Lucy! Spoiler alert: they do.

A Luthor, a Super, and a Lane

mercy

Genre: Angst

Length: 4.2k words

Pairing: Yoongi/Reader/Jimin

Summary: You knew the relationship was falling apart, you just couldn’t accept it.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Yoongi whispered.

I looked at him in disbelief. The tears that were threatening to fall soon enough shamelessly came and for a second I thought I felt my heart actually break. Deep down, I wanted everything to be a joke, I wanted this to be some sort of sick prank. But looking at Yoongi’s face, I knew it was far from that.

“Why did you do it?” I asked looking down. He stayed quiet, not daring to look at me, and after what felt like hours he took a deep breath.

“I honestly don’t know Y/N,” he began “I wasn’t thinking at all.” I let out a sob.. Wasn’t thinking? What does he mean he wasn’t thinking? Is he meaning to tell me that I didn’t cross his mind not once?

“I-It was more than just sex with her Y/N, as much as she seems to be bitch to everyone she isn’t bad. I don’t know what to do. I already lost so much by doing this.” He added as he turned to look at me.

My heart shattered. The only thing worse than getting cheated on is, having the person who cheated on you not wanting to fix it. We were invincible. Since I was 15 I vowed to commit to him and overcome any obstacles that life threw at us. Every fight we had was resolved by the end of the day because we never went to sleep mad at each other. But now, years later I never thought anything would change. And to be honest.. I was too naive to think this would last forever. Yoongi always had eyes for me, he always thought about me before he made a decision. Looking into the eyes of the love of your life and not seeing a spark anymore is heartbreaking. To feel like I was not worth fighting for anymore made me feel worthless.

“I love you Y/N, I still want you around.” Yoongi said breaking me out of my thoughts. “Even if we’re not together you will always be mine.” he added. My body went numb, my mind went blank. I looked at him and smiled. “I’ll never leave Yoongi.”

The next couple weeks were gloomy. Even though Yoongi never stopped talking to me, every night always ended with an argument, which resulted in him blocking me and ignoring me until he felt like talking to me again. Meanwhile I was constantly surrounded by a dark cloud that didn’t leave. I barely got out bed. And when I did, I would find any reason to go back to my hole of self pity. I didn’t eat much anymore and only got a couple hours of sleep at night. Constant thoughts attacked my mind telling me I wasn’t good enough to keep him, that he was better off without me, that I needed him. And as crazy as it sounds, I wanted him back more than anything. I wanted to have another chance to show that I can be a better girlfriend to him, better than her. I never asked about her. I didn’t want to know anything about her. The one girl who managed to make him do this. And from what I heard she wasn’t with Yoongi because she liked him. Anyone can tell she was just using him, but he was too blind to see that. She had him wrapped around her little finger and still slept with any guy she wanted, while Yoongi pretended that he didn’t know. And that’s what killed me.

It was around 10:30pm when Yoongi called. I mentally cursed at myself for answering so quickly, “Hey,” I said. “Hey babygirl, just wanted to hear your voice.” I could feel my face turn red and softly smiled at his words. “I miss you.” I said. For the next two hours we were on the phone and for once I was happy.

“Are you free tomorrow?” I ask. As much as I wanted to give him space, I wanted to see him.

I hear him heavily sigh and I already knew what was coming. “I’m sorry Y/N, I want to see you as much as you do but-” he mumbled. My heart sank and a feeling of sadness came over me. “Yeah I get it, she means more to you than I ever did.” I replied. “Please don’t start Y/N we were talking just fine.” he said.

I rolled my eyes and scoffed. “News flash, I haven’t been fine since you chose her over me, you only knew her for a week.”

“STOP. Y/N goddammit don’t fucking start again.” He yelled out. I could hear his breathing increase and I knew him well enough to know he was pissed.

“Why are you doing this to me huh Yoongi? Was I that fucking horrible to you that you had to do this to me?” I cried. Again tears rolled down my face and I started sobbing.

“I’m not dealing with this tonight.” He said and hung up.

Fucking asshole. That’s what he’s good at, ignoring me and running away from his problems. I dialed his number again hoping he could pick up but soon realized he blocked my number. I began to panic knowing very well I wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight if he was ignoring me.

For the next hour I constantly called hoping he would unblock me but I had no luck. My sobbing increased and I began to feel suffocated in my apartment. I just wanted to run, I wanted to run until I couldn’t feel the pain anymore, I wanted to disappear. I knew I was pathetic doing this to myself. But I couldn’t help it, Min Yoongi destroyed me.

I couldn’t take being inside anymore and left my apartment to clear my head. It was almost midnight and although it wasn’t a good idea to be walking at this hour, I didn’t care. The night air made me shiver and I decided not to go very far considering it was cold. I walked to the gym right by my apartment and sat at the side of the building. I tried dialing Yoongi again, and sure enough he didn’t pick up. I put my phone back in my pocket and buried my face in my hands and cried. Why wasn’t I good enough for him anymore? Why am I still around for him begging him to come back when it’s not what he wants anymore? I was deeply in love with him to even think about moving on, and he knew that.

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be out this late crying.” A voice said, that made your head snap up.

My eyes met the face of a stranger, a very attractive stranger.

I quickly wiped my tears away and stood up backing away from him,  “Ahh I’m sorry” I replied flustered.

He chuckled, “Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” I smiled at him. “That’s good to hear, but what could you possibly be doing out here this late?” I asked sarcastically.

He motioned toward the gym “I work here, on my break.”

I looked at him confused. “Isn’t it too late to for a gym to be opened?” I replied. 

“It’s opened 24/7, I work the night shifts.” He said. I nodded at him and sat back down.

“Now if you don’t mind me asking, why were you crying?” He asked.

I bit my lip and tried to come up with some random excuse. “Umm it’s just tha-” I started to say.

“Boyfriend troubles?” He blurted.   

I chuckled, “Something like that.”

“Mind telling me about it?” He asked.

I looked away sighing. “Honestly.. I’m not ready to talk about it just yet, but long story short he cheated on me.. and somehow I can’t let him go.”

“By the looks of you crying it seems like he doesn’t want the same.” He said.

“It’s.. complicated.” I answered, “He chose her but he still wants me around.”

He looked at me, “I know I barely met you but you shouldn’t give him the satisfaction of still being there for him. You’re worth more than that.”

Tears began forming and I nodded. We both sat in silence for what felt like forever until he stood and offered his hand to help me up.

“I hate to leave you alone but I have to get back to work.” He sadly said.

“Right, sorry.” I mumbled and began to make my way home.

“Before you go, I didn’t get your name” He said

“Oh right, it’s Y/N.” I answered.

He smiled at me, “Y/N, the name suits you.”

I laughed, “Thanks?”

“I’m Jimin by the way”

It was around three days later when Yoongi texted you.

“I miss you Y/N, I’m sorry about everything.”

I stared at the text for the longest time and debated on replying or not. And about an hour later I gave in and replied. This was a cycle, he always apologized after ignoring me for days, knowing I would be waiting. Dammit why was I so weak when it came to him? It was like he had me under a spell and I couldn’t do anything about it.

“Can I come over right now?” another text read.

I answered a quick yes and made my way to the shower so I can look like I wasn’t miserable the past few weeks. About 30 minutes later he was at the door.

“Hey babygirl.” He said smiling.

I felt my cheeks getting hot “Hey Yoongi.” I said while leading him inside.

He took off his jacket and shoes and made himself comfortable.

I laughed to myself thinking back to memories when Yoongi would come over right after work tired and fall asleep on my bed. Or back to the first summer of us dating when he would be at my house and we would watch stupid reality TV shows, eating pizza, and enjoying each other’s company. Back when I was his everything, back when we were invincible. The older we got, the more I thought things were getting better. We were becoming more mature and we both knew what we wanted. A future together. I never expected months later for that to suddenly change.

I snapped back to reality when Yoongi cleared his throat. “Listen, I’m really sorry about-”

I stopped him, “No don’t worry about it, it was my fault.” I said quietly.

His face softened “No I shouldn’t have ignored you.”

“It’s fine..really.” I answered.

He forced a smile, “H-how have you been?” He asked.

“It doesn’t matter honestly-”

“It does matter Y/N, even if you don’t believe it, I care so much.” He stated.

I started biting my nails, it was a really bad habit of mine. But whenever I get nervous I don’t know what else to do.

“You’re nervous.” He said.

I looked up embarrassed “I-I’m sorry.”

He cupped my face in hands and looked me in the eyes, “It’s me Y/N, your Yoongi don’t be nervous around me.”

He crashed his lips into mine and before I could process what was happening, I realized I was kissing him back. He deepened the kiss and before I knew it I was reaching to take his shirt off.

He stopped me. “Do you want this as bad as I do?”

I nodded and continued kissing him and led him to my bedroom.

I woke up hours later to the sound of Yoongi’s phone ringing. I groaned and nudged him to wake up to answer the phone. To my surprise however, he declined it. I shot him a confused look, “Shouldn’t you answer her?”

He shook his head, “I just want to enjoy our time together right now.” I smiled and he wrapped me in his arms. As much as I hate the situation we’re in, being with him is the only thing that can make me happy.

“I want to try and end things with her.”

My head snapped up at his sudden words, “Do you really?” I asked.

“I don’t know what I’m doing Y/N, I want to make things right for us so bad.”

“Yoongi, you know what to do to fix this.” I said softly.

He stayed quiet for a long time. I didn’t care though, just the simple words he said made me see that maybe just maybe.. it was worth waiting around for him. The sleepless nights, endless crying, everything could finally stop.

“I’m going to see her soon and I promise that I will fight for us.”

“Forever and always right?” I said.

“Forever and always.”

The next couple of days were a breeze. I managed to catch up on sleep which I’ve been so badly. I went out with friends after canceling so many times when I was down. Yoongi and I were talking just like before. I was happy. I knew it was going to take some time for us to get back together and I was happy to wait as long as he fought for us. Although I was waiting for the message informing me that he finally left her, I didn’t want to seem like I was pressuring him.

I was laying on my couch catching up on shows I’ve missed while eating ice cream, when I got a text from Namjoon asking to hang out. I smiled at myself and instantly replied telling him yes. My heart dropped suddenly remembering how much I have been shutting him out ever since this happened. Namjoon worked in the music industry and was extremely busy but he always made time for his best friend. We grew up together and he was always the one person I went to when I needed someone. Namjoon always acted like an older brother to me, a very overprotective brother I must add. When I first started dating Yoongi you can bet he didn’t approve, but as time passed he eventually accepted him. I instantly felt a wave of guilt realizing I hadn’t even told him about what happened between Yoongi and I. He knew me well enough to know that there’s something wrong just by the look on my face. I debated with myself on calling him and telling him that something came up, but I knew that would only make it worse- I never canceled on Namjoon, no matter how busy I was. Even though I wanted to avoid talking about it, I knew I had to tell my best friend. I snapped out of my thoughts when I heard my phone buzz besides me.

“Let’s go to dinner then? Usual place :)” the text read. I laughed to myself knowing that no matter how more successful he got, he still loved our tradition of going out for a greasy slice of pizza and a beer. I sent a quick reply and dashed to the shower to start getting ready. “Goodness Y/N what are you going to tell Namjoon?” I thought to myself. I knew I couldn’t keep this from him, he would only blame himself saying he wasn’t there enough. I quickly put together an outfit and applied makeup to look a bit more alive. Thirty minutes later, I was finally ready and out the door to my car. Well…it’s now or never.

I got to our favorite pizza place and ordered food for the both of us. Namjoon was always late, even if it was something really important. Ever since we were kids he had a habit of showing up late. I didn’t mind though and took our food to an empty table. I occupied myself with my phone and it wasn’t until 15 minutes later that he finally got here. “Y/N I’m so glad to see you!” Namjoon happily says. My face lights up and I immediately give him the biggest hug. “I haven’t seen you in so long!” I say as we both sit down, “I know I’m so sorry I’ve been so busy.” He replies with a slight frown on his face. I shot him a look, “Don’t worry, I understand just don’t forget about your best friend.”

“Never will” He says while taking a bite of his food.  I smiled and started eating, “So how’s work been?” “Tiring, busy, you name it.. I don’t care much since I’m doing something I love.” He happily replied.

“I’m proud of you and I’m so glad to hear that.” I say while taking a sip of my soda.

For the next hour we talked about memories when we were younger and catching up with each other. I completely forgot about what has been going on with me since I was so happy being with my best friend. That is, until the dreaded question came.

“So how are things going with Yoongi?” He curiously asked. My face instantly dropped and I frowned. “F-Fine, we are doing fine.” I quietly answered.

Namjoon raised his eyebrow at me and scanned my face long and hard, “You’re not telling me the truth.” He stated. I didn’t answer him and instead looked down and started biting my nails.

“You’re nervous Y/N what’s wrong?” At this point I felt the tears forming in my eyes and I felt like I was going to barf all the food I had just ate. I didn’t want to tell him, but at the same time I did. My heart was racing and my head felt like it was going to explode.

“Y/N what the hell happened?” He asked again. I sighed, “I just… we broke up but we’re trying to work things out.”

“Why did you guys break up?” He quickly asked.

“I don’t know.” I lied. I gulped hoping he would believe me but I knew there was no way he would. If I told him what Yoongi did, Namjoon would not let me anywhere close to him.

“Don’t lie to me Y/N.” I could tell he was losing patience.

“Namjoon-” I began.

“Tell.ME.”

“He cheated on me.” I murmured avoiding to meet his gaze.

Silence. For a while there was just silence. I refused to look up and say anything else. I was embarrassed, scared, I felt pathetic.

My head shot up when I heard Namjoon chuckle. I looked at him confused not knowing what to say, I met his eyes and boy was he pissed.

“You’re telling me that you’re willing to make things work with him again?” He rhetorically asked.

“I know you’re upset and I don’t blame you for it, but I’m willing to stay until he leaves her.” I mumbled.

His eyes widened and his face turned red, “LEAVES HER? You mean he left you for some girl? And you’re still around?” He started yelling.

Tears started falling down my face “Please don’t be upset.” I choked out.

He snorted, “Upset? Nope. I’m furious. It’s taking everything I have not to leave right now and kill that bastard.”

“Namjoon-”

“No Y/N, I am not going to let you sit there and stick around until he decides to fucking value you. You deserve to find happiness and all he is doing is causing you pain.” I didn’t say anything and instead stayed quiet. He stood up and led me out the restaurant. “Let’s get you home.”

I nodded and followed him out, the cold air hit me as soon as we got out the door and I immediately regretted not bringing a sweater with me. I looked down on my phone and I saw missed calls from Yoongi. I bit my lip in confusion considering he never calls me. I decided I’d get back to him once I got home.

We made it to my car and I looked up at my best friend. Disappointment was written all over his face and I took a deep breath.

“Can we please talk tomorrow Y/N? I need to make sure you’re okay.”

“Of course. I’m sorry for ruining our night.”

He gave me a sympathetic look, “Stop, I haven’t been around much and I’m sorry for that. I promise I’ll be there more regardless of my job. I need to protect my best friend.”

I smiled at him, “Love you Joonie, get home safe?”

“Text me once you’re home alright?” He added while opening my car door.

“I will,” I said while giving him the biggest hug.

As soon as I stepped into my apartment I dialed Yoongi before doing anything else. To my surprise he didn’t answer and I frowned. I quickly sent him a text and got ready for bed. As I was just about to close my eyes, my phone rang. Groaning, I reached over and picked up without even checking who it was.

“Hello?” I groggily say.

“Y/N are you up?” The other person said and I instantly knew the voice.

“I was just about to fall asleep Yoongi, but what’s up?” I replied.

He sighed, “Can we talk?”

I frowned at the sound of his voice, “uh sure.”

“I’ll be at your place in 10 minutes.” And with that, he hung up.

Before I knew it there was knocking on the door and I immediately got up to open the door.

Yoongi looked tired, saddened, and just… different. He awkwardly walked in with his head down and I knew something was wrong. My stomach dropped, “What’s wrong Yoongi?” I whispered and reached out to hold his hand. He flinched and pulled back without looking up at me.

He let out a deep breath, “I’m sorry Y/N.”

And that’s when my world came crashing down again.

The sound of rain against my window helped distract me from my endless thoughts of pure emptiness. I continued to play with the food that I didn’t even bother to eat and sat in silence.

It had been weeks that I had a decent meal, much less smiled. I debated many times calling Namjoon, but I always fought against that thinking he was too busy. He checked in a couple times over text but I was good at feeding him lies on how I was okay. Although he was my best friend, I just didn’t want to burden him again.

The day Yoongi came, I knew he changed his mind about coming back to me. He still texted though, and I knew that I was hurting myself way more by still sticking around. Soon enough text messages came almost once a week and I could  tell he was distancing himself. What made things worse was that he flaunted his new relationship on social media, and that hurt more than anything. Yoongi was never one to brag about someone, unless the person meant a lot to him.

I was laying on my bed after coming home from a night with my friends and I was happy considering I haven’t felt this alive for about three months. I tried my best to shut the thought of him out of my head and I did what I thought was best… move on. I constantly told myself that nothing will bring me back to how I was when I was so low and needed to be strong. I was getting ready for bed and I checked my phone one last time before I decided to sleep.

And that was a big mistake. My heart dropped as I paused on a post Yoongi had uploaded of them together. I felt my throat close and tears well up in my eyes, fuck. Why the hell does this shit affect me so much? Before I knew it I was sobbing and all the feelings I was trying to avoid came rushing back. Without thinking I threw some shoes on and ran out my front door not caring how loud I slammed it. I was halfway down the street when I realized I forgot my phone and I sighed. I quickly figured I didn’t need it and continued walking. I eventually made it to the spot next to the gym I always came too and sat down breathing in the cool air. My mind began to wander and my thoughts were interrupted by a cough next to me. I shot my head up and met Jimin’s face. “Haven’t seen you in awhile.” He says. “Almost thought you got back with him.” He added. I looked away not responding, it’s almost pathetic how bad I wish that was what happened.

I heard him awkwardly sit next to me and from the corner of my eye I can see he was thinking on what to say next.  

“Please don’t feel sorry for me” I mumble while trying to blink the tears forming in my eyes.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

“Honestly? No. I don’t. I want everything to be okay with us, I want things to be how they were back then. I want him to be happy with just me.” I admitted. “Do you know how stupid I feel? How pitiful I look?”

“You’re not stupid for wanting that, you have every right to feel all these emotions. But Y/N please don’t let him have so much control over you. He’s not worth it.” He grabbed my face and made me look at him, “Please Y/N.” He pulled me in for a hug and just as I was about to answer him a deep voice beat me to it.

“What the hell is going on?”

I panicked quickly getting up and moving away from Jimin. “Yoongi?” I practically yelled.

Shit.


author’s note: ahhh i really hope you guys liked it! I am not confident in my writing yet but i’m getting there! i wrote this after my relationship fell apart, and although I’m still getting over it, writing makes me feel so much better. 

I love you (MATURE)

I know this isn’t Marvel imagine, but i wrote this long time ago and thought maybe i should post it. 

The bed was so comfortable. She rolled around in her sleep and she felt like she was floating on the clouds. She starched her arm to touch her boyfriend, but all she met was more silky sheets. She slowly began to open her eyes, it took her some time before she could see properly. Her eyes needed some time to get used to the darkness.

That reminded her of the psychology class from the other day, when their teacher told them, that their eyes need thirty minutes before you could see anything.

She always found that very stupid, especially when she was walking to school in the morning. Her eyes didn’t need thirty minutes to get used to the darkness, she could see properly just after five minutes.

She looked around the room but she couldn’t find much known, and very dear silhouette to her. He was nowhere to be found, and that got her wondering, what he could be possibly doing at this time of the night. To be honest she didn’t know what time it was, and neither was she going to look, because it would be a crime to move from this holy position.

She was always laying on her stomach, she would much likely fall asleep on her back, but during the night she would always find her way back onto the stomach. It was the most comfortable pose ever. So she didn’t even bother to roll back and grab her phone form the night stand.

She was laying like that for solid ten minutes, even though it seemed to her like it was hours. She wasn’t sure how much time has passed, but she wondered how she didn’t fall asleep immediately. She is always the first one to fall asleep, she could lay anywhere, and within the minute, and she would be out.

But it was only because she was sleeping next to him, but when they were separated because of his tour and her school, she would barely get some kind of sleep. She just missed the warmth his body produced, the feeling of his strong, muscular hands wrapped around her body. His sweet little kisses all the way from her back, over her shoulder, around her neck and finally locking with hers. His low voiced “Goodnight” that was so innocence, but it would still send shivers down her spine.

She is so deeply in love with him, so over her head with him, he can make her lose her mind in less than a second. She would do anything for him, and that scares her the most. She never thought she would love anyone so much, it terrifies her sometimes. The thought that he holds her everything in his hands, her heart, her soul, her life, that one wrong word, move and she will be shuttered, broken, left in pieces.

He isn’t the type of person that would hurt her on purpose, he’s a sweet, loving and genuine guy. But lately he hasn’t been acting like himself. She understands that tour took a lot of his energy, and that all he wants now is peace and to relax, and she respects that. What hurts the most is when he says he needs to relax but he goes out with his friends, and comes home in early morning hours. She tried to confront him about it, but he would just raise his hands in the air, call her petty or just tell her that he missed them.

But so does she. She haven’t seen him in a year, all she wants now is, for him to wrap his hands around her, tell her he loves her and just cuddle for the rest of the day. She’s not asking for much, is she now? And even though he’s home now, she feels the same way she did when he was on tour. She misses him, and he’s right there, but just like he isn’t. She tried everything, she wonders if she did something wrong, is he mad at her, but anytime she would start a conversation about it, he would just push her off.

She let out a loud sigh and moved the covers from her body, and as soon as the silky sheets left her body, she felt shivers run down her spine, and only then she realised, the balcony doors were open, she was staring at them but she didn’t notice, not until now, and that’s exactly what he does to her. She wasn’t really sure why she felt the shivers because it wasn’t even cold.

And then she saw him, he was standing there, leaning onto balcony fence, looking so peaceful, maybe that’s the reason she felt them, her brain recognised him before she did. But one thing shocked her, he was smoking a cigarette. She was damn sure he stopped, at least that’s what he said. Well more correctly, that’s what he promised to do.

All she wanted to do was to go out, hug him from behind and just stay like that for hours. But she was afraid, afraid to move, because if he hears her, he will turn around and again go into his, now natural state, tensed.

She observed him for few more minutes, and then she decided to get up, she didn’t walk towards him, rather she went down to the kitchen and grab herself something to drink. She wasn’t really thirsty, but she couldn’t lay there anymore. She was so distracted that she almost fell over the pile of his clothes that was on the floor. And that little pile made her so angry, so she just wanted to turn around, go out and yell at him. Later on, she wasn’t even sure if she was mad about the pile, or about him in general.

She opened the fridge and just stared in, does she take bottle of water or apple juice. She went with just regular water, because she didn’t want anything sweet. She poured it into a glass and brought it to her lips, she was slowly drinking while looking through the kitchen window, into the dark, full of shadows, back yard. Shadows were playing around, enlighten the trees, now from this, now from that side. She calmed down a little bit, and she didn’t even hear him come.

Lately she was so distracted, it started to bother her. His low and quiet voice shook her out of her dreams. It was so quiet, but so was the house so it sounded like he was standing right behind her, but she knew he was either leaning onto kitchen door, or kitchen cabinets.

“Why are you up so late?”

She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Does she tells him the truth, that she can’t sleep without him and that the person who sleeps with her now isn’t her boyfriend, but some stranger taking over his body? Or does she just lie to him, and tells him its school? She rather decided to say nothing but to stare through window again.

Now she could feel the smell of cigarette that he just smoked, and it bothered her so much. The smell was so unpleasant, she wanted to turn around and tell him to shower. She took a deep breath, put the glass into the sink, knowing that she’s going to wash it tomorrow. She slowly turned around, trying not to catch his gaze, slowly started walking towards their shared room.

Just as she thought she had passed him, she felt the strong grip on her hand. By then she was already pissed off, and all she could do was let out a loud groan. She tried to pull her hand out of his grip, but he only pulled her closer. Her face met his bare chest, and she appreciated the warmth and smell of his body, even though the smell of cigarette ruined it.

“I’m tired Justin, let me go, please.”

Her voice was low, she felt tired, but not physical tiredness, no the mental one was bigger problem.

“Apparently you’re not tired enough if you woke up at 2.30 a.m.” and what could she say to that. She hated it when he became cocky little shit, mostly because that wasn’t her Justin. She wanted to talk to him about everything, but she knew it would all turn into a fight, and for that, she was not ready.

“My mouth was dry, so it woke me up, can you please let me go now?”

She whispered into his chest, feeling her eyes getting wetter. No she didn’t want to cry, but sometimes we don’t cry because we’re weak, we cry because it’s the only way to let out the pain, the frustration. It’s the only way to make mental pain, physical. But she didn’t want to cry in front of him, she just didn’t.

But his question dried her eyes in a second, she again became frustrated and angry, but at the same time confused and sad. That’s what he does to her. Confuses her, completely.

“Why are you avoiding me? In the evening, you’re already sleeping even before I enter the room. You leave in the morning without a kiss, without a goodbye. When I want to make you feel good, and you know how good I make you feel, your head hurts, or you have an exam to study for, or just something else that doesn’t make any damn sense.”

She was indeed avoiding him, but she only did it because she thought that would protect her from him. She didn’t know why she needed the protection from him, but she felt that way, if he was going to push her away, she won’t be able to try and hold him.

She was once again speechless, or so she pretended she was. She was a burning lion, observing, but always ready to attack.

She felt his hand under her chin, pulling it up, to finally meet his gaze. Every single time she would look into his eyes, he would make her feel like she’s seeing him for the first time ever, that weird feeling in her stomach made her change her weight from her right to her left leg.

He looked at her, or more properly, he observed her, he was still waiting for an answer, but he knew he wouldn’t get one, not from her and not tonight. But did he even wanted it? No, he just needed her attention, but he didn’t realise he was the reason why she stopped giving him so much attention. She wasn’t even aware of what she was doing to him. He was making him go crazy, he hated her for that.

He moved so fast she didn’t even got to catch a breath before her back met stone cold wall. His hands were on each side of her body, her legs were wrapped around him, and they fit so perfectly. His face was so close, their noses touched and she could feel his hot breath on her face. He was looking deeply into her eyes like he was asking for permission, but she knew he wasn’t.

Their lips met, and there was no sweetness in it, no patience, only roughness. But she didn’t mind, he moved his left hand down her body and gripped her ass, ass his lips did the same, concentrating on her neck. His pace was at the same time rough but perfect. All she could do was let out a small moan, that made him lean more into her, and she could feel his smirk growing against her neck. She wrapped her hand around his muscles, digging her nails into his skin. Suddenly he pulled his lips away from her neck, and he moved her from cold wall to the kitchen table. She used the chance to take her shirt off.

As soon as her nipples were exposed and hit by cold air they got hard. His eyes moved from her lips to her breast and he didn’t waste any time. He took her right nipple into his mouth, nibbling and sucking onto it, while he took other one in between his fingers and started tugging onto it. She let out a loud moan of pleasure. His mouth moved from her nipple to her mouth.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that? Let me make you feel the way I only know.”

He mumbled against her lips, the only response she offered him was a small whimper. He moved his lips down her jaw again, this time making sure to leave marks all the way from her neck to her breast. He moved his left hand down her body, until he reached her inner thigh. He moved the tips of his fingers against the sensitive skin, teasing her. She groaned and tried to pull herself closer to him, she was eager to fell his touch.

“Please, Justin” she whispered. Neither of them could wait any longer, but he felt indescribable pleasure teasing her. He slid his hand into her underwear, his fingers meeting her clit, rubbing it roughly. “So fucking wet.” He slid his fingers into her without a warning. Sudden pleasure made her let out loud moan, trying to get even closer to him, just so she could feel more of him.

“You keep moving closer to me, baby girl, even though there is no more place to move. See, only I make you feel this way. You should remember that.” He moved his lips from her neck and looked deeply into her eyes.

“I was going to tease you some more, but I just want to fuck the shit out of you.” he pulled his fingers out, pulled his Calvin Klein’s down, separated her legs and without a warning slammed into her. His mouth fell open while she moaned loudly. She wrapped her hands around his naked body, scratching his back.

“Fucking hell. You’re so tight, baby girl.” he hovered over her, making her back hit the cold table board. His mouth found her nipple and started nibbling onto it. Her mouth fell open from sudden pleasure. His hips found a perfect pace.

“Tell me how good I make you feel.” He groaned against her nipple. She wanted too, but the pleasure was too much and the only way she responded was through loud moan. But he wasn’t pleased with that. He slapped her ass, twice, once from right side, other time from left side. Burn that she felt after his hands made her whimper even more. When she still wasn’t responding, he picked his pace, even though she thought he couldn’t go any faster.

Their bodies moved in sync, and she could spot sweat dripping down his forehead. Even though the kitchen was very big, it became so hot in there that she wanted to jump out of her skin.

She felt his hand around her neck, griping her tightly, and the rough feeling almost pushed her over the edge, but he suddenly pulled out. The sudden feeling of emptiness made her whimper.

“You’re not cumming, until you tell me how god I make you feel, you understand me?” she nodded and pulled her hips up, trying to get him to continue. But he just looked at her. She took a deep breath and started.

“You make me feel so-“but she wasn’t able to finish. He pushed into her with so much force, all she could do was scream. She could see a smirk playing on his lips, he was pleased with her answer.

She felt the well-known feeling and she knew she was close. She won’t be able to hold it any longer, but she could see he was just as close as she was.

“I feel you getting tighter around me. You wanna cum, baby girl?” His voice was low and husky and she only could nod.

“Yes, please.” She somehow mumbled in between the moans.

“Look at me, let’s cum together.” Their eyes met, and like it was their trigger, his movements became sloppier and he let out a loud groan, while she screamed out his name, scratching his back. She could feel him feeling her up with his jounces and it was the best feeling.

“Oh fuck.” He mumbled, they both tried to catch a breath after an amazing experience.

“I love you.” he leaned closer and locked their lips once again. “I love you” she mumbled against his lips.

He picked her into his arms and carried her to their shared room.

A note about criticising SKAM

I’m beginning to feel a bit irritated from all the recent comments from especially international fans. Season 4 is being criticised for lacking focus, a negative representation of Islam (because Sana makes mistakes) and Isak’s speech last week is being bashed for challenging Sana’s world view.

Admitted, there has been a lot of subplots going on, and yes everything moved really slow the first couple of weeks. But it felt exactly the same way in some parts of season 3, we have just forgotten that by now. There were almost 3 weeks where we barely saw Even at all and some people thought that he wasn’t going to be reintroduced and play a part later on. And every time there was a clip which didn’t have Isak and Even in it, we complained about it.

But the many subplots and what on the surface seems like a loose focus probably just emphasises what Sana feels. And the confusion we feel also mirrors the confusion Sana feels about her life, who she is, and who she wants to be as a person.

And I love the fact that Julie Andem isn’t afraid of letting the Muslim be the one who makes the biggest mistake of them all. The Instagram account. When the season began a lot of people also voiced their concern about how Julie Andem shouldn’t let Sana become a lecturing saint. She hasn’t done that and now that is being criticised too. It’s incredibly difficult to be Julie Andem.

Yes, Sana is a Muslim but she is also a teenage girl with lots of feelings and a lot of emotional baggage from the time before Nissen which she has chosen to hide from the other girls for 2 years. The girls have never seen beyond the hijab nor her façade and neither have we, the viewers. We have seen a tough girl, who always have had the answer and we have rooted for her exactly because she is badass. But Isak is right when he says she is a bossy bitch who often has been quite coarse. We just haven’t acknowledged because we thought it was so nice to see a Muslim girl who didn’t have the stereotypical oppressed girl role.

As with the other seasons, there are viewers who are being schooled on the main topic. This time Islam. Let’s be happy about that. And in this season the Muslim girl just happens to have a lot of issues and might be a little bit less cool than we initially thought.

And now she has fucked up big time! We now know about how she was bullied before high school, but the girls on Nissen don’t know anything about that yet!
And when Julie Andem chooses to stir up a hornets’ nest and let Sana fail and make mistakes, then she emphasises the fact that Sana is a teenager – a human being – on par with the other characters as well as us, the viewers. She is neither more or less from being a Muslim, the fact that she is a Muslim has quite so nothing to do with her mistakes.

Like with the previous main characters, Sana has to learn that people need people. She has to learn that islands need bridges. She has to learn to use words to communicate with, and that you get far by being kind. And she is already on her way.

And remember the enormous cultural gaps within the Skam fandom. Skam is incredibly Scandinavian in all of its aspects. Scandinavian sexual morality is for example very different from how you would portray things in the US. Same goes with discussions about racism. It has become a fact that Skam now is being watched all over the world. Skam is not politically correct. Skam was not made to please all nationalities, sexualities, religions etc. It was made for 16 years old Norwegian girls. The rest of us are just fellow viewers. When watching with unofficial subtitles things can get further lost in translation. Everything that is being addressed in Skam is not directly translatable to contexts from outside the Scandinavian countries. Or the themes are, but how they are being addressed and portrayed is very Scandinavian, please just remember that.

|| vanilla ||

ohhh boy, this is going to be a trial run, since I’m not sure how I feel about writing for a legit celebrity 。゚(TヮT)゚。 if I like how this turns out, I may continue writing for tom,,, however if this story is somehow hated, then I won’t try anymore ;w;

also this whole self indulgent story was inspired by a David So video.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and is not meant to represent the celebrity’s actual life/lifestyle.

**do not plagiarize/repost this story**

——

The young woman was in the midst of reading a trashy, young adult novel while laying on her couch. Her eyes were sparkling as they drank in the words of love and devotion spouted from the main character’s lips. “I cannot picture a life without you. You are my heart and soul,” she reads the sentence aloud before placing a hand over her heart, “God, this boy is so sweet!”

Keep reading

A Hundred Lesser Faces: (Three)

Notes from Mod Bonnie

  • This story stems from the premise: what if Voyager!Claire had gone first to Lallybroch instead of directly to the print shop in Edinburgh?
  • Links to past installments:  (One) (Two)

(Three)

Jenny

I’d run upstairs the instant Claire was gone through the door—first to the bedchamber overlooking the road, then up still further to the upper floors, so I could see her for just a moment longer. For, damn me, but I couldna take my eyes off her…just kept—watchin’ her— until the last.

And even when the shape of her had long vanished over the horizon, I was still watchin’, staring into the spot where she’d been, the last place she’d inhabited before she’d gone away….just as she’d promised. 

The letter—God, Claire’s letter—was clutched tight in my hand and heavy on my heart. But it was also heavy in my hand, I realized. There was more than paper, therein, I’d swear to it; firm, whatever it was, but not rigid, exactly, for I could still bend it easily.  

I had the nail of my finger under the edge of the wax before somethin’….somethin’ stopped me—or could it be someone?—and I shivered. 


“Jenny?” 

Claire was in the doorway of the kitchen, cloak on, the letter clutched to her breast. 

I stood, awkwardly. “You’ve finished?” 

She nodded, and her eyes closed, of a sudden, and she looked so very young, like one of the bairns in a thunderstorm, all scared and—small—So sad, and—

—and I wavered. 

But before I could say anythin’, Claire was there right before my face, pressin’ the envelope hard into my hands. She didna let go, just kept—holdin’ on to me, eyes boring into mine so I couldna even blink. 

 “Whatever hurt there is between you and me, Jenny—” Those whisky-colored eyes were shining wi’ feeling, ready to spill over wi’ it. “—I beg you to see that Jamie gets this.” She added her other hand and squeezed me so hard that own hands were shakin’ along wi’ hers. “Please don’t wait too long to give it to him.” 

My voice cracked, and I couldna look away. “Why’s that?” 

“There are things in here, that—” the paper crinkled, loud and violent, that bitty sound, “—that will give him peace….I hope.” A small, broken breath. 

Peace…Peace for Jamie…

“Please, Jenny—PLEASE—promise me that you’ll give it to him.” Those wildcat eyes begged, and I could do nothing but nod. She heaved an enormous sigh and closed them, nodding, herself. “Thank you.” 

She released me, then and made for the door, pulling her cloak tight about her. Her eyes were on the handle as she said, “Goodbye.” 

And then before I could blink, she’d come back again and thrown both her arms ‘round me. Unnaturally tall as she was, my arms were trapped down at my sides, so I couldna have hugged her back, even had I wished to. 

Her voice was a ragged sob of a whisper. “I do love you, Jenny.” She kissed my cheek.

And then she was out the door, gone. Forever.  

And it was only as she was far, far gone, a vanished speck through a frozen windowpane, that I realized….

I *had* wished to. 


“Mam?” 

I nearly leapt out of my skin as I whirled like a guilty bairn to the door behind, where Maggie stood wi’ her own babe on her hip. 

Ye’ve been up here for an age and a half, Mam. Did…” She gave me a significant look, “….something give ye a turn?” 

“I’m fine, mo chridhe,” I promised, flustered-like, bustling past her down the stairs to resume my work and hide my face. “Perfectly fine, nothin’ to—”

“But who was she, Mam?” Maggie’s voice, her footsteps, chased me down the stairs. “The dark-haired Englishwoman? Why was she here?” 

“She was a traveler. No one ye need be worrit about.” 

“Mam, I’m no’ a wee bairn. We all heard the great skelloch the two of ye were makin’. Clearly she was someone ye kent well, and it sounded as though she had come were wi’ a purpose, and  “ 

“Maggie, do not— ” 

“But what was it she wanted of ye, Mam? She stayed hardly an hour, and we  “

I dinna wish to DISCUSS it, Margaret.” 

From the look on her face, I’d shouted it, violently. She went all meek-like and left me standing alone on the stairs landing without another word. I started to go after her, but—I let my hands fall back to my side, clenching into shaking fists.  

What was it the Englishwoman had wanted of me, Maggie, love? The woman who saw ye delivered into this world? Only to come make peace and to mend your Uncle Jamie’s heart…and I… 

*I*….

Hands of guilt seemed to shove me toward the door, toward the stables. 

Janet Murray, go after Claire. Go after her right this moment. There’s still time to catch her up! 

“Aye, and WHY should I?” I muttered under my breath, stormin’ to the pantry and busyin’ my hands, furiously flyin’ from task to task. 

WHY? Because it was doomed from the start! 

Dinna lay the troubles of their marriage at my feet. It was GOOD for Jamie to be marrit. He NEEDED a woman.

You saw her fetch at the wedding. Jesus God, woman, THAT was your warning. THIS is the test. 

I wasna going to see my brother die alone, and I couldna have dreamed that she’d saunter in one day after—

No one could have supposed Claire was alive; but now that you know, you MUST make this right. 

Go and stop her…GO!

She had no right —No RIGHT to just vanish as she did. God, the —the arrogance of it — I threw an old jar against the wall, the crash of the pottery against the stone some kind of satisfaction amid the storms of rage and of shame within me.  not to even CHECK !—And ‘complicated,’ she says…COMPLICATED! 

She said she’d be able to explain. 

All can be made right, Janet Murray. Go after her, beg her to  

I'll no’ beg that Sassenach witch for anythin’. The rage was boiling up within me, and suddenly even the promise of delivering her letter seemed like the vilest of insults. ‘Will bring him peace,’ she says…How could she POSSIBLY ken what can bring him peace, having been gone from him for twenty

YOU would know, just fine, if it were Ian. Separation couldn’t change your knowing of him, could it? 

I ignored that pleading, reasonable voice and stormed back up the stairs. The only sensible thing was to pretend as though the letter had never existed. 

Jamie need never know. If he wasna precisely at *peace,* now, he’d at least settled into a living, and found a certain

He hasn’t. 

NO sense at all in opening up old

And since when were love or mercy about *sense*?  

What he doesna know canna pain him, and that’s all there is to it.

I stormed upstairs and threw the letter resolutely into the back of the drawer, coverin’ it over wi’ old underthings and rags where Ian wouldna find it. 

But all the rest of the day, that stern voice haunted me, warred with me. 

Go after her. 

Leave me be. 

What’s done is done. 

No, it isn’t. 

GO AFTER HER.

Claire let him suffer. 

She stayed away for TWENTY—

She doesna DESERVE  

That was Jamie’s judgment to make, woman. Not yours. 

I told her only the bare facts. 

No. You lied to her. 

He DOES have a wife!

He DOES have two daughters that called him Da!

You told her all the difficult truths and made them as painful to her as you could. 

And you told one lie.

 That Jamie is happy.

Is he?  

No…

The guilt shuddered through me, a fist wrapped around my throat. 

He’s broken…

He’s still hurting…still raw….

From want of Her. 

And you sent her away. 

The look on her face as she begged me to give him that letter—

But the THINGS she did to  —

What you’ve just done is worse, still For you did it from spite, Janet Murray; of your own pride and

Across the house a door CRASHED open and I reeled back from the spice cupboard as though shot, my blood poundin’ in my ears as footsteps came thunderin’ in from the front door. “What in GOD’s holy name—???” 

“I dinna need to WASH to see Mam,” a grumpy voice protested from the foyer. 

“Oh Mary, Michael, and Bride—IAN!!” I’d forgotten—completely FORGOTTEN to be sick with worry for my wee scoundrel who’d run away. Lord forgive me, what sort of mother FORGETS

I flew across the house, my guilt over Claire momentarily replaced by outrage at myself and fury at my son and RELIEF. “Ian!!” I sobbed as I threw my arms around his thin frame. “Ian you –YOU–oh—!” I swore violently, a great string of things, but all grateful, all emphatic with love as I squeezed him tight, wetting his shirtfront “—I’m so glad you’re safe, a chuisle.

“I’m fine, mam,” he said with a sigh, though he returned the hug. 

I pulled back and slapped his shoulder, hard. “Well ye WILLNA be by the time I’m done wi’ ye! What were ye THINKING, Ian Murray, runnin’ away like that wi’ no word???”

“I DID leave word, Mam!” 

“Oh, ye think a wee note is enough? Not in this house, Ian. God, I’m so fashed and so happy in one single moment—” True enough; I was panting with the rush of the relief and the fright of the last two weeks. I hugged him again, then pushed him toward the stairs. “Off wi’ ye—we’ll deal wi’ your punishment later.” 

I turned from one Ian (well, the back of one, as he sulked off) to sigh in relief at sight of the other. “There’s my sweet lass,” he said, grinnin’ that bright, warm smile that I loved so well and holding out his arms to me.

All but fell into them, I did. “Mo ghraidh, ye found him.” I pressed my head against his chest, so happy to have him close; so happy for the relief of havin’ him hold me. There, against his heart, all could be well; all the voices and the shame and the rage could be silent. 

He kissed me, touched my cheek, then turned for the study. “I didna do much.“ He thudded into an armchair and pulled me into his lap. “In fact, I didna even get to Edinburgh.” 

“No?” I grinned, kissin’ his dear face. “Was he making such puir time? Chasin’ after lost pups and rabbits, again, aye?” 

“Nay, he’d already been to Edinburgh. When I came upon him, it was head on, already on their way back to us.”

I jolted back. “Their?” 

“Aye, Ian and Jamie.” 

JAMIE?”

Go after her 

“Aye, who else?” Ian kissed me, blithe as ye please. “Said he didna trust Wee Ian to come back unescorted, and rightly so.”

Go after her

“Well, and — it’s good ye were able to meet Jamie on the way.” I brushed my hands nervously down my skirt, tryin’ not to give in to the feelings risin’ up in my gullet. “He’ll have needed to be back in his shop as soon as possible.”

“Oh, nay, he left Fergus in charge. Said he was past due for a visit. No sense in him making the journey twice, now, is there?” 

“Jamie’s — He’s — ?” I felt as though I were going to faint. 

Go NOW

What if he finds out? 

You MUST tell him. 

I canna — I CANNA —

I screamed it at my conscience, but it wasna like the rage of before: a scream of panic. The weight of what I’d done—it was fallin’ down all around me and over me, smashin’ apart my anger and my stubbornness and my pride only to reveal beneath all my darkest shame and regret and 

“Jamie’s gone to Balriggan, then?” 

“NO, a nighean,” came a grinnin’ voice that paralyzed me as surely as the bolt of a crossbow in my spine, “he’s behind ye.”

Lord, help me, 

I canna


If It’s You (M)

A one-shot based on a request from @sunshinehobi7. Hope you like it Rachel!

Hoseok and You

Genre: Fratboy Hoseok, fluff, smut and a little angst thrown in for good measure heh heh

Word count: 7, 205 words

~•~•~•~

Crossing the threshold of the house felt like stepping into a different world. The music was so loud it felt like the whole place was thumping in time with the beats. It was not usually your scene but when your roommate, Amy, asked if you wanted to go to the party with her she didn’t have much persuading to do. You had just finished your finals, you deserved a break and socialise after being cooped up with books for so long and maybe kick back a beer or two.

So here you were. You smiled and greeted the other students you knew as you delved further into the house, letting Amy lead you to the spacious living room. It didn’t feel very big now that it was packed with a large amount of people chatting and dancing with no organisation whatsoever as it typically was at this sort of gathering.

An hour or so later found you still in the same room, not having moved much from your original spot where you leaned against the wall, talking to some of your friends about plans for the break. Your legs were aching from standing too long and you’d give anything to be able to sit down on the couch you were sure was in the middle of the room somewhere, but so many people had been crowding it that you hadn’t even been able to see it most of the time.

Then a group of people finally shuffled off to gift you with a view of the couch. However, it wasn’t the furniture that caught your attention, but the people sitting on it. One particular person, to be exact. The people flanking him on either side did not matter to you; you were instantly drawn to the man sprawled on the couch, his body lean and relaxed. His hair was not quite blonde, perhaps it was the lighting in the room playing tricks on you but it looked peach; a colour you’d brand silly on anyone else, but on him it seemed fitting and suited to his tanned skin.

He tilted his head right at that moment and caught your eye. That was when you decided that just as his hair colour suited his tan, his slightly darkened skin matched the sunny smile that he flashed you even more. The curve of your lips hitched upwards reflexively as you returned his intense gaze with your own that was filled with wonder. Never had you felt so drawn to someone before, and it was not just his looks either, because you’d met guys who were drop dead gorgeous yet didn’t feel the pull that you were experiencing now.

You were unsure if he thought that you were as magnetic as you found him to be, but you knew that his gaze was piercing you longer than necessary, spanning almost a minute before he leaned on his side to say something to the girl sitting next to him, never taking his eyes off of you. The girl’s expression took on a look of surprise, then she nodded and walked out of the room. His grin turned into one of proud triumph as he patted the vacant seat, motioning for you to come over and take it.

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Missing You (Zach Dempsey x Reader)

A/n: When requests are short so you decide to use some of the prompts yourself (Wouldn’t mind making a part two!)

Requested: no

Word count: 858

#30 “So that’s it? It’s over?”

Warnings: angsty af

Summary: Zach breaks up with Y/n out of the blue, and it completely destroys her.

Originally posted by itsme-hannahbaker

Originally posted by raquel-lostgirl


Something didn’t feel right. The tension was high as she climbed into her boyfriends beloved Audi. Zach was silent, not a single word spoken as he drove her home. Not even a small peck when she first got into the car. Her heart hammered in her chest. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

Zach takes the long route home. Letting all their little songs play. Almost as if he’s trying to remember all their special moments. He’s been distant since Hannah’s death. Quieter, and not as present. After 40 minutes, they finally pull into her drive way. She knew somewhere, deep down, this was ending. Zach turns the engine over, just sitting there in complete silence. She doesn’t dare move from her spot. Her hand that has been sitting on her knee began to shake violently. She can’t even look at him, she knew what was coming.

“Y/n…” Zach’s voice was gentle, but yet emotionless. With each heartbeat, she felt the cracks began to unfold.

“You’re breaking up with me aren’t you?” She asks, her voice barely audible. Zach takes a minute to reply.

“Yeah.” He says quietly. Now, her whole body begins to shake. A panic attack is dominating her body, and the one person who can fix it, doesn’t take action. They sit there for another few minutes. She musters up enough courage to say something.

“So that’s it? It’s over?” She whispers. She wanted an explanation, to hear reason. Zach doesn’t reply. Tears threat to spill over. She holds them back, waiting to let go the minute she’s alone. She quickly gathers her backpack. Her hand grips tightly on the door handle. Afraid to leave the car. She sighs, she opens the door and scampers out. She stands there for a minute, looking at him. With one finally breath, she lets the door close before heading to the front door. She unlocks the door, and takes one look back at the Audi, only to find it backing out quickly. She steps in, and closes the door behind her. She slowly walks up the stairs to her room. Her heart in her chest is like a gravity ball, pulling her down to the floor. She gets to her room, opening the door, then closes it. But instead of going to her bed, she finally lets it out. Her bag is slowly released from her grip as she leans against her door. Loud sobs rack out through her body as she cries. Her body slides down the door. She brings her knees to her chest, cuffing her arms around them. Crying violently into them. She didn’t understand.

~A week later~

She’s quiet. Hasn’t spoken a single word to any of her friends, teachers, and parents. She’s changed. Hasn’t done her makeup in days, doesn’t care how she dresses. A mess bun, sweatpants, and a baggy t-shirt is what clings to her body. She’s starving. Hasn’t eaten a proper meal in the last few days. She misses him. She cries out in her sleep, wanting him to come running back and make her better again. She sees him in school. He hasn’t changed, he still laughs at whatever stupid joke his friends say. Not even her best friend, Justin Foley, can make her better. School is starting to turn into a hell hole filled with people she doesn’t care for. She’s alone.

It’s after school now, she’s in her sanctuary, her room. Where the walls are traced with memories that haunt her every day. Where the carpet is soaked with tears. Her phone buzzes for the first time in days. It’s Justin.

Justin

You should come to the basketball game tonight. We won’t win without you.

Y/n

It hurts. I don’t want to see him.

Justin

It’s been 8 days. Enjoy yourself, you have to start getting better.

Y/n

Fine.

She does show up. To support Justin and the rest of the team. She can feel lingering eyes on her throughout the game. They’re losing. Because their star basketball player can’t focus. His mood changes, he makes shot after shot, making the team win. The buzzer goes off. They’ve won. The crowd races out to congratulate them. She doesn’t, she gets up and walks towards the door unnoticed. It’s like she’s in a movie, behind her, everything slows down, while she’s still in reality.

~Zach looks for her, but she’s nowhere in sight. He’s made up his mind. He needs the girl he loves back at his side. Justin points towards the exit. Over the cheers he hears Justin yell, “Go get her!” So he does. He breaks out from the crowd and races towards the exit of the gym. He bursts out into the cold windy night, hoping to find her still walking to her car. But she’s not, her car is gone, and so is his heart.

Hold This Heart Steady

*click thru to read on ao3

written by: Emily | @prosciuttoe

prompt: ‘Post season three, Clarke decides she needs a haircut and asks Bellamy to help her.’ for anonymous

word count: 1533

In which a haircut helps Clarke realize that there are a lot of things that she needs to tell Bellamy.


There aren’t many things that Clarke misses about the Ark. She doesn’t miss the stale, recycled air that leaves her with a sour taste on her tongue; The relentless, enduring hum of the machines lasting through the night; the too-white walls that make her vision blur and her eyes sting after long shifts at the med bay.

The only thing she misses are the bathrooms.

Or, to be more specific, the private bathrooms attached to the apartments.

She yelps when the door slams open, the sound of wood striking metal jarring against the quiet of the room. Instinctively, she fumbles for the towel wrapped around her, hefting it higher.

There’s a beat where Bellamy, eclipsed by a halo of light and bearing an uncanny resemblance to one of the Greek gods that grace the covers of his tattered novels, just sort of stares, before it apparently dawns on him that she’s not exactly decent.

“Sorry,” he says, flushing. His voice is scratchy, and she has to repress the quick shiver that rushes up her spine. “Didn’t think anyone else would be in here at this time of night.”

“It’s a communal shower,” she deadpans, relaxing and flexing her hands by her sides. “I think it’s safe to assume that there’s always going to be someone in here. Even at three in the morning.”

He shrugs at that, the motion pulling his shirt distractingly tight around his shoulders. “I can come back later, if you want. Let you finish up.”

“It’s fine,” she insists, and it only strikes her then how true the words are. “I really don’t mind.”

The corners of his lips quirk up at that; the smallest of smiles. “Only if you’re sure, Princess. Wouldn’t want to interrupt your beautification routine.”

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Prince!Mingyu
  • Mingyu grew up as the youngest son of a family of three. So kid had fun growing up. 
  • He had so much freedom being the youngest because he was never supposed to take the throne or the stress that came with it. 
  • of course he put this freedom to good use.
  • Since he could talk he would never be in the castle, always roaming around the city with a bodyguard. 
  • As he got older, he’d go on further and further expeditions, going to towns and cities in the kingdom and exploring but also learning from the people there. 
  • He was like 10 but no one can deny the prince.
  • The chefs were 90% sure that letting the young prince this close to an open flame was a TERRIBLE idea but he just looked so excited…. and his bodyguards are scary……
  • When he was 12, he was sent away to a boarding school.
  • and it was one of those, celebrities and royalty from small countries type of gig like it was HELLA prestigious 
  • and he easily climbed to the top of his class
  • Mingyu was blessed with a natural ability to be good at everything. He wasn’t the best, but he could do it all. 
  • and that’s where you came in. 
  • you really didn’t see what all the hype was around mingyu but you didn’t really care. 
  • his following of girls was a little annoying but no one bothered you so you didn’t care. 
  • the problem came when he started being good at things that did pertain to you. 

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The first time he enters her, he cries.

The sudden feeling of completion overwhelms him.  It’s as though his spirit has been fragmented his whole life, without his ever really having known it, and now suddenly, with every part of her surrounding every part of him, his soul has been re-knit, restored, returned to him with all its once-gaping holes lovingly mended.  

He doesn’t try to hide it because he knows she’ll understand- and she does.  She lies beneath him, cradling his head in her hands, and when she sees the tears sparkling in his eyes, she draws his face down to hers.  She kisses his lips, tenderly, kisses each of his eyes in turn, and brings his forehead to rest against her own.

He tries to speak, but finds that he can’t… and again, she understands.  She holds her fingers to his lips, stilling him.  "I know,“ she whispers.  "I feel it, too.”

He kisses her, long and slow, and begins to move within her.

—————-

The first time they’re together after he’s returned to her, he cries.

She’s promised him, repeatedly, that this is okay, that he’s not going to hurt her, not going to hurt the baby, but still, his movements are timid, cautious.  The sight of her doubled over in pain in her living room is much too fresh in his memory.

He lies curled behind her, framing her small body with his, spooned against her, in the position they’d loved to sleep in, before, but had never used for lovemaking.  But now, with their child between them, she says it’s the best option.  And when he at last slips into her, he’s glad she can’t see his face, can’t see the tears streaming down his cheeks as he finally feels, for the first time, that he is home.

She knows, though.  She always knows.  She arches her back against him, twisting her head over her shoulder to capture his mouth with her own.  She brushes his tears away with her thumb, stroking his cheek.  He runs his hand along her body, down her shoulder, over the ridges of her ribcage, around her waist, and across her round belly.

There’s a twitch under his fingers, a sudden ripple in her skin, and he jerks his hand away in surprise.  She chuckles and takes his fingers in her own, placing them back on her belly and holding them there.  He feels their child moving against his hand and thinks, We did that.  Just by doing what we’re doing right now.  And he wonders- the way he’d felt, that first time, had he known, somehow?

She reaches behind herself and clutches at his body, impatient, and after that it’s difficult to think at all anymore.

—————–

Their first time after they’ve escaped and driven off together, he cries.

He’d believed, for months, that this would never, ever happen again, that it was impossible.  And until barely a day ago, he’d believed that he was going to die without ever knowing this bliss again.  The first long, slow slide into her welcoming warmth seems to wake something deep within him, seems to tear off the suffocating shroud that his prolonged solitude has wrapped him in.  

He’s dismayed to find that it hurts her.  He wants to stop, but she refuses.  "It’s not that unusual,“ she says.  "Many women experience some pain, the first time after… after…..”  She closes her eyes, holding her own tears in check.  He wishes she wouldn’t, wishes she would just let go, but he knows that she’s never found it easy to cry around anyone, not even him… and he’s been gone for so long.  

So instead, he allows himself to cry, and in soothing his pain, she forgets her own.  For now.

—————–

The first time he’s with her in the new house, he cries.

He remembers their first time together, in his bed in his Arlington apartment, neither of them concerned with having to go anywhere at all except to work the next morning, after which they could return, together, and make love again.  Repeat ad nauseam.

On the road, on the run, the constant question of “Where next?” had stolen all possibility of real rest from them.  They had settled down each night wondering whether tomorrow would be the day they would be caught, the day the running would finally come to an end for them, the day that all hope of escape would be dashed forever.  Lovemaking had been tense, anxious, each constantly keeping an ear out, unable to truly lose themselves in one another.  

This house represents an end to all of that… but it doesn’t truly sink in for him until he’s lying on top of her in their new bed, upstairs in their new house.  He will make love to her here tonight, they will go to sleep, and tomorrow, they will wake up together.  Tomorrow night, they’ll do the same thing… and the night after that, and the night after that, and on and on.  He’s never before in his life found the idea of an unchanging routine to be quite so beautiful.

“Only good times from here on,” he tells her, and in the moonlight shining through their bedroom window, she looks as though she would very much like to believe him.

—————–

The first time they make love after reconciling, he cries.

He had done everything she had asked of him… eventually.  He had gotten himself out of the house.  He had made the psychiatric appointments (and eventually, he’d even started going to them).  He had filled the prescriptions, had taken the pills, had gotten active again, had developed a routine.  They had returned to the FBI, and he had thrown himself into his work with just as much passion as before- but with far fewer of the foolish risks he’d been given to taking in his youth.

But without her, it had been like preparing a gourmet meal and placing it on an empty table, performing a concerto to a vacant opera house, painting a portrait and hanging it facing the wall.  He knows what she would say if she could hear his thoughts: she would remind him, yet again, that he has to do these things for himself, that doing them just for her would be unhealthy, would be missing the point.

And he has done them for himself.  But what use is it all, without her to share it with?  His life, without her in it, is a “how” without a “why.”  He knows now that she cannot be solely responsible for mending the tears in his soul- he must see to many of them on his own- but sharing it with her is what makes the pain of mending worthwhile.

They’re not as young as they once were.  Their bodies have changed, skin loosening where it was once firm, lean frames hardened and weathered by rough use… but she is more beautiful to him than she has ever been before, a treasure restored to him after a long, painful absence.

She wraps her legs around him, and he is home.  The tears are flowing freely down his cheeks, but he doesn’t care, because he knows she understands.  She always understands.

She takes his head gently in her hands and presses her forehead to his.  "I know,“ she says.  "I feel it, too.”