#And the fact people hate him more than the grown man who tried to stab him is so wacky???? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bratkook · 3 years

Text

almost. (m) jjk.

not yet, almost, right now

pairing. jungkook x reader genre. fluff, baby angst, smut word count. 6.4k warnings. two idiots!!, pining, masturbation (m. and f.), use of vibrator, accidental voyeurism?, more feelings come to light!! summary. jungkook tries to be the best wingman he could be in your new venture after your breakup. he could do it, right? note. part two of not yet, some more feelings are exposed, please don’t hate oc she is but a pendeja that doesn’t see the obvious feelings jungkook has but she has good intentions i promise<3 there will most likely be a final part,,if you guys are into it lmao okie bye

The cool summer breeze flows around you as you’re sitting under the shade, eyes focused on the chaos of runny yolk and hashbrowns that is your breakfast. Jungkook on the other hand, is focused on you. His signature yellow shades block out the sun reflecting from passing cars, concealing his eyes just enough for you to not see him blatantly staring at you while you stuff your face.

The charmed smile he has falters slightly when you look directly at him, hashbrown lingering by your lip as you repeat his name. “Sorry, what?”

Your brows come together as you smile at his zoned out state, something you had grown fond of in the years of knowing him, always enjoying the small dazed look that graced his face whenever he was lost in his thoughts. His lips push out slightly in question, curious eyes wondering just what you could have been asking him.

“I was saying that I think I’m giving up on crushes and love.” You say it so easily, mind made up as you grin at him before continuing to shovel hashbrowns into your mouth, only pausing to take a sip of your iced coffee.

Jungkook tries his best to seem unaffected, nodding along in interest as he takes a steady bite of his own food. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, taking a look around at the people surrounding you: friends having breakfast together and snapping photos, couples feeding each other food with smiles on their faces, a lone man with his dog perched on the seat across from his while he worked on his computer. You briefly wonder if all of them, even the dog, have better luck with love than you do.

“I think I’m cursed,” you continue. “All of my exes have been assholes, and I’ve always been too blind to see it until it’s over and I’m left crying over Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams.”

“Maybe you’re just looking for love in the wrong places,” Jungkook shrugs, internally screaming because he’s who you should be looking at if you wanted love.

Not to toot his own horn, but Jungkook liked to think he was a good guy, a great boyfriend even. His previous track record of relationships could attest to that, all of them ending on mutual terms, still friendly and civil with each other. He’s almost certain if there was a Yelp page for him it would be at least 4.5 stars with comments raving about how great he is, even little anecdotal touches about how he always gave away his hoodies or offered to cook breakfast.

He was a god damn catch, why couldn’t you see that?

“Maybe prince charming is a lot closer than you think,” he grumbles out, stabbing his omelette with a little more force than necessary, fork clanking against the plate. And when you gasp in realization he freezes, slowly looking back up at you and seeing the way your eyes widen.

“Wait, maybe you’re right!” Your hand shoots across the table, gripping onto his forearm and it sends a shock throughout him, skin tingling at your touch. “You know that coffee shop below our building? That cute barista always puts a heart next to my name. Do you think I should ask for his number?”

Jungkook blinks once, slowly twirls his fork in his hand and blinks again before staring up at the sky, mentally asking why he couldn’t just go out and say it. “Hm, I don’t think you should.“

With a defeated sigh you retract your hand, slumping back into your seat and grabbing your iced coffee once more, stirring the straw and ice around as you nod. “True. What if he feels obligated to give it to me just because he doesn’t want to get fired in case I go all Karen on his ass.”

That wasn’t why Jungkook had said not to, but sure, that works too, so he hums along.

“I bet he draws hearts on all the other girls cups too.” You huff, playfully wiping a tear under your eye with a smile.

“I’ve actually—“

“You know what I—“

You both freeze mid sentence, Jungkook’s cheeks tinted a light pink as he stutters on his words, wide eyes staring at you as if he had caught himself before you cut him off. But as you’re about to tell him to go on, he waves you off and urges you to speak first.

“I was just gonna say that maybe I should go through that wild phase people usually go through after breakups.”

He sets his silverware down on the plate and sips his water, giving you an odd look. “Wild phase? Like you wanna dye your hair red and get bangs?”

“No,” you cackle, ruffling a hand through your own hair as you picture yourself with that combination. “I should just go out and hook up with people. I feel like I’ve either been in a relationship or entirely single, so it could be fun right?”

“Uh, maybe...” he trails off, rolling his lips together in thought, not exactly fond of hearing you say that when he had felt the confession about to roll off his tongue. He takes a slow breath, trying to see this from a neutral point, the point of a supportive friend wanting to help you get over a breakup.

“How do you go about it?”

“Me?” he chokes, pointing at his chest as if there was magically some other person you could be addressing.

“Yes, you. Need I remind you, we share a wall between our beds.” You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face shows that you’re speaking of this lightly, not entirely annoyed by the fact that you had heard Jungkook during his own fair share of hook ups.

He’s not ashamed of it, but considering he never really brought up being able to hear you, he thought you’d pretend to never hear him. It wasn’t too often that he had a girl over, the number of hookups only increasing after you got with Hajoon and loosely cut ties with Jungkook. But from what you had heard—and seen thanks to your nosey self looking through peep holes once they left—it was very rarely the same girl.

So to you, Jungkook was a pro at the art of hookups.

“Right, sorry,” he grimaces, a sheepish smile on his lips as he wonders just how many times his activities kept you up at night.

“It’s fine, consider us even.” A teasing laugh follows your statement, enjoying the flustered look on his face, how his cheeks get even darker in embarrassment. Jungkook was used to the two of you talking like this, neither of you having a filter especially when it came to sexual aspects, but he hadn’t had a conversation like this since before you got with Hajoon. It would take some getting used to again.

“So, give me the tips. Where do you find people?”

Jungkook leans back into his chair, arms stretching out on either side of him, short sleeves of his black tee bunching up and revealing more of his tattoos and the rippling of his muscles. With a small laugh he rakes his hand through his fluffy hair, giving you a small smile. “Honestly? Anywhere. I’ve gotten girl’s numbers at the gym and at coffee shops, but bars are the best bet for something quick.”

“Ugh, fuck you and your pretty privilege.”

“What?” he guffaws, smiling wide and showing you his adorable smile as he laughs loudly, not caring about the attention he draws to your table. He doesn’t even realize how the table full of girls is now trying to discreetly stare at him, because his eyes are on you. You see it though, and it further proves your point. “What the hell is pretty privilege?”

Your wild hands gesture towards him, a look of disbelief on your face as you do so. “You! Of course girls line up to hand you their number, have you seen yourself? Pretty privilege,” you jab your fork at him in time with your final words, a smirk on your glossy lips.

Jungkook feels his confidence grow at your casual compliment, tongue prodding at his cheek as he stares down at his food, trying not to smile too hard. You thought he was pretty, that was a win in his book.

“C’mon,” he teases, foot gently nudging your leg underneath the table. “You could totally score someone's number. Plus there's always apps if you just wanna test the water.”

You give your plate a contemplated stare, “Sure, how hard could it be?”

Admittedly, the answer to that question was: not hard at all. You had met all your previous boyfriends in person, through mutual friends or shared classes back in college, never once dipping your toe into the world of Tinder or Bumble. Who knew all it would take was a couple of selfies and the strategic body shot to have boys circling around you like some new-age, slightly filthier version of rapunzel.

Jungkook knew though, not at all shocked by how quickly you get a match the following day when he’s at your place. His eyes are focused on the screen in front of him, helping you beat a level in your favorite game that you had been stuck on. But the second you gasp as if you’ve won the lottery, he pauses the game entirely and gives you an odd look.

“What?”

His answer comes in the form of your phone thrusted in his direction, lit up screen displaying your profile picture and the one of the boy you had just matched with. Jung Hoseok. Jungkook’s eyes narrow as he reads the name, trying to remember it in case he somehow had a friend in common that knew all the dirt on him.

He has a similar pair of yellow shades on his own head, thicker black rims around them and a charming smile on his face. Jungkook chuckles to himself. Yellow shades? How original.

“What do I say?” you question, eyes looking nervous as you wiggle the phone in his face. The small white bar beneath your match urges you to start a conversation, and coming up with the right words to say makes you overthink it all.

“Just say hi and tack on some cute emoji. It’s not that hard,” he laughs, pushing the phone back at you. Jungkook knew you could start the message off any way you wanted and this Jung Hoseok would eat it right up. How could he not, the alluring smile in your profile photo would draw anyone in.

“Okay, I did it.” Your phone is instantly locked and chucked aside in an attempt to be forgotten, choosing to grab the remote out of Jungkook’s hands for another distraction. It only lasts a brief second before you’re killed by the boss Jungkook was trying to defeat.

“Really?” Jungkook huffs, yanking the remote back into his hands, needing a distraction himself. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that you were searching for a fuck buddy while he sat beside you. How crazy would it be if he suggested being your fuck buddy, offered to help you through this so called wild phase you were searching for.

No. That’s not what he wants.

Would he enjoy it? Sure. But he could already imagine how much worse his heart would hurt if his feelings came to light and yours were non-existent. That is if you’d even agree to it.

“Relax, he’s probably thinking of what to reply.”

You make a noise of disagreement, fingers itching to unlock your device to see if it was true, slowly inching towards it until you finally grab it and go back onto the app. Jungkook just chuckles as he goes back to helping you with your game, not wanting to look at you as you giggle at your device. He could already imagine what this guy was telling you for you to turn into a giddy mess not even two minutes in.

He tunes it all out, eyes focused on the screen, fingers gripping the remote with a little more force than needed. His concentration helps him though, finally passing the level you’ve been stuck on for the past two weeks.

“You’re welcome,” he sighs, making a show of stretching out and sending you a smile, having it falter slightly when he sees your eyes still focused on the screen of your phone. With a frown he looks back at the television, saving the game before turning it off altogether.

Once he gets up from the couch, making his way over to the media console to store the remotes, is when you look up at him. “You’re right, this is easy!”

Jungkook doesn’t feel the usual pride that comes with being right, but the cheerful look on your face prevents him from feeling salty. Coming back towards the couch, he sits beside you once more, facing you as he rests his elbow on the back cushion to lean on. “Told you so.”

He keeps that same smile on his face as you mention how quick Hoseok was to ask you out on a date, even as you bring up the fact that this date would be at his place, and Jungkook could decipher netflix and chill any way some greasy boy tried to conceal it.

“I hope he knows I don’t want anything serious,” you mumble, chewing on your fingernail as you scroll through the messages.

Jungkook could almost laugh at how blissfully unaware you were of the piranha infested water that was the great sea of Tinder. Of course this yellow sunglass wearing wannabe version of him knows you don’t want anything serious, why else would he be so quick to invite you over with the cheeky excuse to watch movies.

All he can do is shrug as he stares at you, lips pressed together in an effort to not say something that would totally ruin everything. Instead, Jungkook does everything he can to be the best version of a wingman you could get. He tells you the ins and outs of hookups, how you should definitely not text him the minute you leave his place and tell him you had fun, don’t talk about anything super personal involving family or your work, and if he doesn’t offer to go down on you but expects a blowjob he’s a loser.

It’s solid advice that you mentally jot down, subjecting him to further questions your mind comes up with and even asking him for help on an outfit via text the night of your hangout with Jung Hoseok.

Jungkook stares at the photos for a little too long if he’s being honest. They weren’t spectacular selfies that you had taken much effort for, their sole purpose being showing off the outfit, but the way you look so focused as you snapped the shot had him zooming into your face and smiling like an idiot. When you double text him with a long line of question marks he snaps out of it, deciding on the second option you picked of mom jeans and a cropped shirt. Cute and casual, and definitely something Jungkook preferred, but he’d never tell you that.

When you finally text him a thumbs up and tell him you’re on your way out he just hearts the message before locking his device and trudging to the living room. It’s not often that he wallows in self pity, spacing those days out so far he barely remembers them. But they usually went exactly like this, ordering a large meat lovers pizza with extra cheese, drinking far too many Mike’s hard lemonade—because despite how much they made his stomach hurt they were tasty so he didn’t care—and binge watching his comfort show: Modern Family.

But even as he sulks on his couch, practically sinking into the cushions with horrible posture and a slice of pizza resting on his chest, he can’t find it in himself to chuckle at Cam and Mitch’s usual banter. He’s too busy thinking about which movie you’re currently watching, if you were watching it. Who’s Jungkook kidding though, you were totally getting your guts rearranged right now.

Taking an aggressive bite out of the crust he frowns and raises the volume up on his television, attempting to drown the mocking voice in his head calling him a loser for not admitting to his feelings. He knew this, knew he should have said something when he wanted to at breakfast, but Jungkook was afraid that if he confessed as you were talking about hooking up, that you’d see him as taking advantage of a situation instead of being genuine. I mean who wouldn’t? You say you want something casual and suddenly he’s spilling his heart out and you’re supposed to believe he’s not some pig trying to butter you up. He didn’t want to get labeled as a creepy neighbor after the good times you’ve had.

“So stupid,” he grumbles to himself as he takes another swig, the last drops of the alcohol hitting his tongue with a tangy aftertaste. As he sits up to place the empty bottle onto his coffee table his muscles ache, neck stiff from the unfortunate position it had been subjected to for the last three hours. With a small huff he’s rolling his shoulders, reaching for his discarded phone to see the time—and also check if you’d sent him some SOS text—but he finds nothing besides the bright numbers indicating that it was nearing midnight.

In true pity party day fashion, he doesn’t even bother cleaning up after his mess, just tossing the dirty dishes into the sink to be washed tomorrow when he would force himself to be in a better mood. Instead, he grabs a water and his phone and waddles into his bedroom.

The moonlight illuminates the space enough for him to keep the light switch off, undressing from his crumb covered sweats and shirt, choosing to remain in his boxers as he slipped under the cold duvet. The sheets feel fresh against his hot cheeks, flush from the alcohol, cooling him down and making his body relax.

Jungkook knows he should sleep, needing to be up early tomorrow for work, but he can’t stop his mind from wandering into dangerous territory. His buzzed brain has no qualms imagining exactly what you were doing right now, wondering if you’d be the type to act shy at a guy’s house for the first time, if you’d initiate the first move or not. Jungkook had only seen it up close once under the flash of strobe lights and the haze of alcohol, but he can still picture the soft smile on your face before you go in for a kiss, and he grumbles under his breath when he realizes that he wouldn’t be the one kissing you tonight.

What he doesn’t know, is that you wouldn’t be the one getting kissed tonight either. The Jung Hoseok you had perceived through Tinder, assuming he was all casual and DTF with his netflix and chill suggestion, had been anything but. What you thought would be a steamy night, ended up becoming a nice dinner and comedy watched, morphing into some version of game night where you discovered he was a little too competitive than you were used to. The only action you got was a kiss to your cheek as he walked you to your car and a promise for another date. A promise you would not be keeping.

So as Jungkook lays in bed while his thoughts turn into some fantasy of you moaning out his name, you shuffle into your bedroom and slip into your pajamas with a defeated sigh. You had already texted your best friend telling her what a bust tonight had been, deciding to just tell Jungkook all about it tomorrow because you knew he was most likely fast asleep now. And as you settle under your own covers, inches away from Jungkook with only a wall seperating you, you decide to just call it a night and pretend it never happened.

Just as you shut your eyes, nuzzling into your pillow, you hear the first moan come from behind the wall. A small cry of despair escapes you as you bury your face into your sheets, tugging them up and over your head to block the sound of Jungkook getting some action the same night you had been left high and dry. Of course he would, assuming you’d be getting the same treatment at your date's place, why wouldn’t he take advantage of your absence and not have to muffle his partner’s moans the way he usually did.

You’re just going to ignore it, until you hear a moan that sounds strangely like your own name. Maybe it's wishful thinking on your part, your horny brain deciding to pretend that Jungkook was calling for you instead of whoever he was with. It might be a little wrong for you to have that fantasy of your neighbor, but you aren’t blind. He’s hot, and adorably sweet, the perfect package for any girl he tried to swoon. And judging by the cries you’ve heard of lucky girls prior, you know he was good in bed.

You’re just desperate now. That’s the excuse you tell yourself as you slowly settle onto your back, feeling your body warm up when you focus on his muffled groans, desperate and needy. As your hand slowly slides down your shirt, you shut your eyes, biting down onto your lip to muffle any sound you could make when your fingers slip underneath your pants and past your underwear.

Jungkook on the other hand doesn’t care about his volume. His boxers are tugged down his thighs, knees bent as he slowly ruts into his sticky palm. His hand is tacky with the lube he had messily squirted on, thick cock glistening in the light coming in from his window. He can’t look away from it, mouth dropped open as he groans, imagining it was your hand tightly wrapped around him, your spit covering his cock instead of that strawberry flavored lube.

“Ah fuck,” he moans, shutting his eyes and throwing his head back onto his soft pillows when his thumb rubs along his slit. It continues to leak beads of precum, quickly wiped away to join the mess on his cock when his hand slides back down and squeezes along his base.

You hear that loud and clear, and when the female voice you’re expecting never follows, you realize he must be taking care of himself. It makes you feel a little less guilty now as your fingers trail along your slit, collecting the slick coating your folds before you softly circle your clit. A choked gasp fills the air at the small sensation, your body already wired after having expected to get some action tonight; it totally had nothing to do with your hot neighbor jacking off inches away from you.

With your eyes fluttering shut, you strain your ears to make out any other noise, muffling your own groans with a hand pressed against your mouth. The bed creaks lightly underneath you as you roll your hips into your hand, getting into a smooth rhythm that makes your body buzz.

Slowly, your imagination runs wild, and you wonder just what Jungkook was thinking of as he did this. Was he watching some porn as he did it, using his own filthy thoughts to push himself to ecstacy, or was this just something he needed to do to be able to sleep?

“Shit, so good,” he groans out, voice raspy, but you can sense his desperation through the drywall. It’s what has you sinking a single digit into your drenched entrance, biting down onto your lower lip when you feel the glide of your walls as you start to thrust into yourself, easing in another and mewling at the slight stretch.

Jungkook would absolutely give his left leg to know what your pussy felt like, he didn’t even care how disgusting he sounded by admitting that to himself, it was true. Blame it on the hard lemonade that made his stomach ache and his mind unfiltered, but he could almost visualize how you’d look above him, could practically feel the warmth of your core wrapped around him, dripping down his length as he fucked into you.

He knows you’re loud in bed, never being one to conceal your cries of pleasure and he would die happy to hear his name come out of your mouth as you creamed his cock. But for now, his hand would have to do.

His lids feel too heavy, jaw slack as the pleasure flows through his body. The wet squelch of his palm fills the room, mingling with his pants and groans, air growing thick around him. It’s been a while since Jungkook had jacked off, and even longer since he’d been able to do it shamelessly in bed without the fear of you hearing him, but now that he thought you were gone he can’t find it in himself to cover his mouth or groan into his pillows like he usually did.

The pent up frustration fogs up his mind, cranks the lust up to 11 until his free hand is gripping his sheets beside him, bed frame creaking as his thrusts speed up. The thuds of his headboard hitting the wall come from behind you, a choked moan blending in with it, and it has you scrambling for your bedside drawer.

The pajamas you wear get yanked off your legs and tossed aside after you grab your trusty vibrator, settling onto your back once more with huff. All it takes is a press of a button for the device to come to life, buzzing in your hand as you trail it up your thighs. A gasp escapes you when you pass it over your mound, brushing against your clit and sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

“Oh my god,” you whimper when you finally press the vibrating head directly onto your sensitive clit, legs spreading further apart as you increase the intensity. You could clearly hear the raise in Jungkook’s moans, and that's when the first irrational thought pops into your mind.

How easy would it be for you to head over to his place and deal with both of your problems. Surely Jungkook wouldn’t have an issue with you offering to suck his dick, wouldn’t mind letting you sink down onto him if it was just a friendly favor.

The little devil on your shoulder tells you it would be mutually beneficial, urging you to get up and walk to Jungkook’s with the vibrator still in your hand, but you can’t. This alone felt like enough of a dirty secret, a secret you’d have absolutely no problem keeping because although you feel slightly ashamed, you couldn’t deny how turned on you are.

The flashes of all the times you’ve heard Jungkook with other people play in your mind, the screams of his name that he tried to muffle, pleas for him to go faster, the resounding smack of his palm on flesh that always left you wide eyed when you heard it. And you start to wonder if maybe you’d be into that, the feeling of his large tattooed hand connecting with your ass, gently tapping against your cheek for you to open up for his cock.

That fantasy is like the first ember needed to start the fire inside of you, spreading uncontrollably until you’re bucking into your vibrator, teeth biting down on your lip to keep any potential moans of his name from slipping out.

“Fuck, fuck,” he chants, the same fire burning within him. Maybe your minds are linked telepathically, his thoughts gravitating to the same filthy fantasy you had. Jungkook was very much an ass man, knowing very well how good your butt looked in jeans from how often he stared at it, he could only imagine how good it would look as he fucked you from behind. Picturing the way it would bounce back from the force of his thrusts, eyes glued to the way you’d soak his cock, mimicking the tightness of your walls with a firm grip of his palm.

Jungkook can sense his orgasm approaching, leaves his chest feeling tight as he pants, legs gliding along his sheets for leverage to continue fucking into his hand. You’re not far off either, vibrator set to the highest setting you can practically feel your bones rattling, free hand slipped under your shirt as you pinch at your pebbled nipples. You’re both on the brink of falling over the edge, the same question playing in your mind: where would you want Jungkook to cum?

As his moans get breathier, whiny in a way you’d never imagine them to be, you mentally decide that you’d want him to cum inside of you, wanting to see the way his cute face would twist up in pleasure as he filled you up. Jungkook hopes you would, throwing all responsible thinking aside for that sweet moment of ecstasy and the mental picture is enough to finally push him over.

“Ah shit, baby,” he cries out in his room—thankfully having half the mind to not cry out your name as he came—eyes rolling back as his cock twitches in his palm, ribbons of cum splashing onto his stomach and chest. The warmth hits his skin, more droplets continuing to leak out as his palm milks his orgasm, stomach hiccuping and back arching from the stimulation.

The choked moan is what has your own orgasm washing over you, your palm slapping over your mouth so hard you know you’ll feel the ache later but you don’t care. A muffled gasp blends with the buzzing of your toy, thighs tensing up as your body tingles and writhes around on your sheets.

The only thing you can think of is Jungkook, the charming smile he’d give you when he listened to you rant about anything, his annoying habit of rolling up his sleeves to show off his muscles, the cute scowl on his face whenever you managed to beat him at Mario Kart, and the soft feeling of his alcohol coated lips on yours. It leaves you feeling warm as your orgasm flows through you, lying limp on the bed as you mewl at the sensitivity.

When you realize your thoughts have strayed from ‘pure sexy Jungkook fantasyland’, and switched over to ‘Jeon Jungkook your adorable neighbor’, your eyes go wide, finger immediately going to turn off the vibrator. In your haste to shut it off, you click the wrong button, changing the pulsing settings and nearly screaming when the device starts to buzz erratically against your overly sensitive clit.

With a strained gasp you yank it away from yourself, turn it off and throw it aside, horribly miscalculating the size of your bed and watching in horror as it lands on the floor with a loud thud. The complete silence from both sides makes the noise sound deafening, and all you can do is sit on your bed, half naked, and hope Jungkook is still too busy basking in his post orgasm bliss to hear the bang.

Although the blood is still pumping in his ears, he heard the thud clearly. His heart stops in his chest as he lays there, too scared to breathe in case he’d somehow make too much noise, suddenly afraid of being too loud after he had just made a show of himself. Jungkook slowly sits himself up, grimacing at the stickiness on his stomach before pressing his ear against his headboard to try to hear anything else.

All you want to do is yank the covers over yourself and go to sleep, pretend your horrendous date and your dirty thoughts about your friend never happened. The sobering mentality that comes after an orgasm settles into you, leaving you staring at the floor with a crease between your brows as you wonder what the hell came over you.

When Jungkook hears nothing else, he sighs in relief, hauling himself out of bed to grab another pair of underwear before entering his bathroom to clean up. As he stares at his own reflection in the mirror, he frowns at how pathetic he feels. The throbbing headache of his earlier drinks is already starting to kick in, body now sweaty from exertion, stomach covered in his cum.

“Such a loser,” he grumbles out, grabbing a wad of tissues to wipe away the mess on his skin before walking back out. Here he was, getting off to the thought of you, while you were out having your post-breakup wild phase.

His hands grab his phone as he reaches his nightstand, flopping back onto the bed and unlocking the device. It’s now one in the morning, and you still hadn’t text him, which either meant you were having the time of your life, or Jungkook had to track down this Jung Hoseok. The slightly protective side of him won’t allow him to sleep until he hears back from you, fingers already typing out a message and hitting send.

Jungkook 1:23am : you safe or am i gonna have to go all Liam Neeson on this guy?

When your phone vibrates on your nightstand you gasp, grabbing it before it could make any more noise. Seeing Jungkook’s name flash on the screen makes your blood run cold, already imagining what the text could be: calling you dirty for getting off on him, making fun of you, telling you to come ove—no stop that.

Finally mustering up the courage, you open it up, a small laugh spilling out as you read his message, relief flooding through you as you realize that meant he thought you were still with Hoseok.

Y/N 1:26am : oh yeah, you gonna show him your very particular set of skills? lol

Y/N 1:26am : i just got home though

Y/N 1:26am : like right now

Y/N 1:26am : still sitting in my living room

Y/N 1:27am : haha

He laughs at your string of texts, something you hear as he settles into bed. Jungkook ebbs away the small feeling of jealousy in his chest, trying to see the silver lining of this. You weren’t rushing to tell him anything about your date which meant it either went so good you wanted to keep it to yourself, or it was subpar and you wouldn’t be seeing this yellow sunglass wearing copycat again.

Jungkook 1:29am : glad you got home safe, goodnight y/n!

Sending back a goodnight text, you lock your phone and slide deeper into bed, pulling the sheets up to your chin as you stare at the ceiling. You already know the only thing you’ll be dreaming about is your cute neighbor with a bunny smile and body proportions that contradicted it. And as Jungkook lays in bed, wondering if he’ll have to push the crush aside, you’re barely coming to terms with the fact that the small glowing feeling that came with being around him might be something else.

Every single one of your interactions gets rewinded and played back like a seamless montage, remembering just how many almost moments there was between you. The way his eyes would flash down to your lips whenever you playfully argued on your couch, hands yanking the remotes from his in a game of tug of war that left you way too close in the heat of the moment. How he’d let you braid his hair anytime you found a new youtube tutorial, his starry eyes staring at you with so much adoration it made your stomach flip, brushing it off as love for a friend.

Then came the jokes from your friends, constantly teasing you about Jungkook, playfully saying they would try to sleep with him just because they liked the scowl on your face, and how quickly you tried to play it off. How the sweet old lady from the convenience store downstairs always assumed you were dating when you came in together, the low jab she sent when you walked in with Hajoon and she said she preferred you with Jungkook. That argument had been one of the ones that left him bolting out of your apartment with a nasty slam of the door, spewing nasty words at you, calling you blind for not seeing it and dumb for acting like you had no idea what he was talking about.

And for the first time, you come to the sudden realization that Hajoon was right. His deep set insecurities about Jungkook had stemmed from scraps of the truth, not just from him but from you too. The amount of times you’d find a way to slide Jungkook’s name into a conversation about anything, telling him funny stories about him, too lost in thought to see that while you were giggling as you reminisce, he was staring at you in disbelief.

The final thought that makes you want a blackhole to swallow you up, comes in the form of you, grabbing Jungkook’s face before planting a kiss on his unsuspecting lips at the club. You want to scream into your pillow as you recall it, how he had almost leaned back in to kiss you again before you had sobered him up with your dumb question rooted in revenge.

“Oh my god, I’m such a bitch.” you whimper. Subjecting Jungkook to be your wingman, jokingly telling him he should be your fake boyfriend more often, asking him for tips with hook ups. If everyone else could see it but you, he probably thought you were purposely friendzoning him.

The guilt piles on top of you as you start to piece together every moment that flew over your head, only making you bury yourself deeper into your sheets. It makes your heart twist, taking note of how Jungkook was always so quick to put a smile on his face despite how naive you were to it all, wondering if maybe it was too late to try to make something of this now. How many times could you call Jungkook ‘bro’ and treat him like you didn’t see him romantically, before he decided there was no hope for him anymore.

So as you force yourself to sleep, nerves and uncertainty weighing heavy on your mind, Jungkook snores away as he dreams of the almost moments that could have been.

#heartsforbts #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #bangtansorciere #bangtaninn #ficswithluv #btscreatorscorner #jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #bts smut #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook #bts fics #new

2K notes · View notes

alltooreid · 3 years

Text

I Think He Knows

Y/N has a huge crush on Spencer Reid, so huge she embarrasses herself every time she tries to talk to him. She is convinced he is aware to all her pathetic attempts at flirting and just chooses to ignore it, but turns out Spencer may be a little more clueless than she thought.

A/N: Hope yall enjoy this cute fluffy fic! I’ve been having a rough couple of days so writing a fun fluff like this was really comforting :) yes it is inspired by the t swift song, but you don’t need to know the song to read and enjoy! also my requests are open so let me know what you want to see! (also sorry if this is kind of short, but i’ve been super busy and wanted to put something out :)))

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Type: a cute pining fluff fic

Word Count: 2.3K

Content Warnings: mentions of alcohol, otherwise none.

“He got that boyish look that I like in a man I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans It's like I'm seventeen, nobody understands No one understands”

“He has to know Penelope, I’m not exactly subtle.”

You and Penelope spent the majority of your lunch breaks in her office, discussing anything and everything. Recently however, the point of contention had been a certain young genius. One who you had a huge crush on.

“Spencer Reid may be a genius, and one of the best profilers I have ever seen but he most certainly does not know,” she said, as she drizzled more dressing on her salad.

“He has to, it feels like everyone knows. . . Do you think everyone knows?”

She shrugged, “They might, I know my Chocolate Thunder hasn’t picked up on it yet.”

“You haven’t told him? It’s already been a week since I’ve told you! How did you keep it a secret for so long?”

“You asked me very nicely not to tell anyone! Plus this one seems really important to you. I don’t want to go around telling people and for Reid to hear it in office gossip.”

You smiled, “Well you Penelope Garcia are the best, best friend ever.”

“You know it, now I know you desperately want to repay me for my services, and you can by giving me those exact ranch packets you have in your bag,” she said.

“They’re all yours, now let’s discuss something other than my pathetic schoolgirl crush. Like how stupid Kevin’s sweater was today.”

“Kevin? The other internal affairs technical analyst? Yeah what the heck was he wearing?”

“You know, I’m tired of having to carry the weight of the brains, looks and fashion sense out of the two of us,” you said. “Though, that is a good way to gather attention . . . I wonder if Spencer would actually hold a conversation with me if I wore something as ugly as that.”

She laughed, “You know I think that might send you backwards.”

You stabbed your lettuce, “At this point I’ll try anything.”

Before Penelope could respond, someone interrupted your lunch, your only other friend on the BAU team, Emily Prentiss.

“Oh hi Y/N! How are you!”

“I’m good Emily, what kind of gross things are you here to deliver today?” you and Emily joined the FBI at around the same time, and found comfort in the fact that you were both total try-hards. Emily was going to eat lunch with you and your fast friend Penelope, at least on days when she was in the office for lunch, but you and her both agreed that she should eat lunch with the team so that they can get used to having her around.

“Just some paperwork, no cases yet, knock on wood. Also I just wanted to say hello! What are you guys eating?” she asked, pulling up a chair.

“Some salads from that takeout veggie place PG is always talking about. I told you I was going vegetarian right?” “You did not! That’s great Y/N! We need to talk more, like we used to when we first started here,” she sighed, then perked up, “We should have girls night! Remember how fun it was that night at the bar? With Brad the real FBI agent?”

“Yes! We should! You know, Gideon’s replacement comes tomorrow, we should celebrate!” Garcia said.

“You know, I don’t know if the best way to celebrate a new agent is by drinking without them, but I’m down. We’ll toast our girls night to agent Rossi. Someone ask JJ if she’s busy.”

JJ was not busy, but when you and Emily asked, Morgan overheard.

“So am I not invited to the party?”

“Well it was supposed to be girls night . . . but I think PG would throw a fit if I turned down her 2nd favorite person in this building, so I guess you can come,” you teased. “You should come too Spencer!”

“I don’t know, that’s not really my thing . . “

“Oh come on! I know I would love to see you there,” you then realized that you were embarrassing yourself being so forward. “And I’m sure everyone else would too!”

“Alright, I’ll come, but I’m not drinking.” he said firmly.

Before you could respond, Penelope magically appeared. “Good, you can be completely sober when Y/N gets wasted and embarrasses herself,” she said.

“PENELOPE! I’m not the light weight here! you’ll see Spencer, she’s actually awful. Two shots in and she’ll be on the floor,” this was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Spencer grimaced. “But it’ll be so much fun! You have to be there! You already said yes!”

“I just don’t know if seeing all of my coworkers get drunk while I watch is my idea of a fun evening. . .”

“Trust me! I’ll even stay sober with you, so we can judge them together. It’ll be a blast.”

“Ok, I’ll be there . . . but for now I need more coffee,” he pulled his chair out and walked towards the office kitchen. You silently cheered, forgetting how people were still standing around you.

“Well,” you awkwardly laughed, “um, I guess I better be getting back to my neck of the woods. I’m not a hot shot profiler like the rest of you guys . . . so see you all later!” You tried to escape before anyone interrogated you about your conversation with Spencer. However, a certain profiler followed quickly behind you.

“So. . . you and pretty boy huh?”

“Shut it Morgan.”

{⋅. ♪ .⋅}

You stayed true to your word that night, Spencer stuck to water and you enjoyed a diet soda. The bartender, who you had grown fairly used to seeing on your many nights out, was shocked to hear you didn’t want any alcohol in it.

It’s probably a good thing that you didn’t drink, you already embarrassed yourself enough in front of Spencer fully sober.

“So Spencer, you know that new bookstore you said you were going to go to after work a couple weeks ago?”

“New bookstore . . .? Oh yeah! What about it?”

“Well after I heard you talking about it I decided to check it out . . . It’s really nice there! I go like every other night now! We should totally go together sometime.” Luckily, you were sober enough to keep a secret: the fact you were only going so much in the hopes of running into him.

“Oh really? If I’m being honest I wasn’t super impressed with their selection, it was mostly contemporary fiction. And all in English . . . Not really my thing,” when he saw the way your face dropped he quickly changed his tone, “but it’s great if that’s your thing!”

This. Is. Humiliating. The amount of times you had gone and bought books from the bookstore, you were there almost every night hoping to run into him after work and start a conversation. You felt stupid, of course he wouldn’t want to go on a book store date with you. If Spencer Reid didn’t like you so much that he wouldn’t even go to a bookstore with you, there’s no chance at a relationship.

“Oh haha, yeah you’re right it’s totally lame. . .”

“Didn’t you just say you went there all the time?”

“No! When did I say that? You must be drinking Dr. Reid,” you said, quickly hopping off your bar stool, and running towards Morgan and Garcia, not turning around to see how confused Spencer was, but only being able to imagine him as relieved. Relieved he didn’t have to make conversation with you anymore.

“I’m blowing this PG, he totally hates me.”

Morgan laughed, “Y/N, you’re acting silly, this isn’t high school, we aren’t seventeen, stop dancing around it and just go ask him out.”

“Morgan, he doesn’t want to go to a bookstore with me, no way he’s agreeing to a date.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down, maybe he’s just not in the mood to go?”

“You go ask him then, 20 bucks he says yes.”

“You’re on Y/N/N.”

7 minutes later Morgan returned and without a word pulled a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet and deposited it into your hand. “Sorry, Y/N.”

Penelope then piped up, “I’m telling you Y/N, he just doesn’t know. That boy is clueless.”

You scoffed, “I think he knows Penelope. I’ve made it pretty clear.”

“Have you told him?”

You were thrown off, “Um, no but-”

“Well then you haven’t made it clear enough, have you sugar?”

You almost said something, but you couldn’t really think of a good rebuttal for the argument. So instead, you downed Penelope’s half dranken frozen margarita, and headed back over to Spencer.

“Hey!” he said as you made your way back over, “I was wondering where you went, after you left Derek came over and asked to go to that bookstore with me, isn’t that extraordinary. . .”

“Do you wanna go on a date with me?” you blurted out.

“What?”

You sighed, “I’ve had a crush on you since like, forever, and I keep planning all these ways to ask you subtly but it’s just not working so I’m asking now. Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“You like me? I didn’t know that . . .”

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not, I thought you were just being nice. You’re nice to everyone and I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

You smirked, “Get your hopes up? Does that mean you’re obsessed with me too Dr. Reid?”

He laughed in response, “Yeah, you could definitely say that.”

You dug through your purse and pulled out your keys, “Ok, then let’s get out of here.”

He paled, “And do what?”

“We’re going on our first date.”

He smiled, and you both got up off your bar stools and headed out the door, ignoring Morgan’s snide remarks as you passed.

{⋅. ♪ .⋅}

You couldn’t help but smile as you drove. Every couple of seconds you couldn’t help but look over at Spencer, getting lost in his brownish hazel eyes, which looked indigo in the night. He would smile, the kind of smile people write silly little romance songs about and spend verses to describe, and tell you to pay attention to the road before you run off of it. You would laugh, tell him to calm down. Although originally you had an idea of where you were going, now you just wanted to drive in circles, to bask in this memory.

“So where are we going?” he asked.

“Think about it Doctor Reid . . .” you replied, teasing him in the way you’ve imagined since you met him.

You pulled up to that little bookstore on 16th avenue, the one you couldn’t stop going to out of the sheer chance Spencer might be there, the one that was obviously closed this late at night, but was too perfect not to spend your first date at.

“Although this is beautifully symbolic, it’s almost 2 in the morning, this place closes at 8. We’re 5 hours, 49 minutes and 17 seconds late.”

You smiled and pulled out your ring of keys, “You know, when I spent hours a night hanging around here after work, hoping that you would happen to come shop for books and see me here too, the woman who owns this store got pretty curious. So I told her why I was here, and after she got done laughing at me she offered me a key, so that if I ever had the guts to ask you out, I could take you here no matter what.” You turned the key and swung the door open, gesturing him inside and locking the door behind you, “but we have to keep the lights off, so no one comes by and tries to get in.”

You and Spencer sit in the non-fiction section, and enjoy the silence for a few seconds before you have an idea, “Read me something Reid.”

He reached up, pulling a book off of the shelf without looking, “Are you sure, A Brief History of 1491: Life in America Before Columbus, is first date material?”

“Although that book is anything but brief, anything you read to me will sound stunning coming from your pretty mouth.”

So he begins to read, attempting to slow down to a reasonable pace but still going abnormally fast. You didn’t care though, more than you listened to the history of the late fifteenth century you watched Spencer’s hands. They’re really nice hands.

His right followed the words as he read aloud and his left helped hold the book. He wiggled the fingers on his left hand unconsciously as he spoke, getting into the words of the book.

After about 25 pages he glanced over at you, and you could almost hear the gears turning in his head. After a second he went back to the page, and continued reading. You didn’t think anything of it until a couple minutes later, when his hand made its way to your left thigh.

He held it and you leaned into him, and you both stayed like that until you fell asleep hours later, with his head resting on top of yours.

At 8:30 Mrs. Betts, the owner of the bookstore, found you and Spencer, arms around each other, the book thrown aside. She smiled, glad to know you had taken her up on her offer. She went to go wake you up but glanced at her watch. She didn’t have to officially open until 10.

She could definitely spare a couple of minutes.

“I want you, bless my soul I ain't gotta tell him I think he knows”

- Thank you for reading! Please reblog and let me know what you think :))

ATR’s tiny taglist: @reidingmelodies

692 notes · View notes

duskamethyst · 3 years

Text

make it right.

a/n: i was on a writing high. i initially hated this so much but ended up with 12 pages long.

word count: 5.1k

genre: mature, smut, nsfw, angst to fluff

warnings: mentions of abortion, pregnancy

pairing: hawks x f!reader

𝅘𝅥𝅮 music rec: the reason by hoobastank 𝅘𝅥𝅮

summary: you told keigo that you’re carrying his child but he didn’t take it well. five years later he shows up in front of your door after being invited by his son and says he wants to fix everything.

you lean down towards the counter as you concentrate on creating pretty swirls of cream on the cake you baked with a piping bag. the dining table is full of food, a feast almost too huge for only two people, but you have a good excuse. it is a special day. your son’s fifth birthday to be exact.

kids these days can be ruthless and your son doesn’t get along very well with the other kids from his kindergarten. they like picking on others that seem too fragile, too quiet – criteria that fits him well and it doesn’t help with the fact that they know he’s growing up without a father. your child never opened up to you about the constant mocking he faced until one day you overheard him sobbing through his pillow in his own room. it was dark, though the door was still open by an inch to allow a small amount of light to penetrate into the room whenever he slept. he said he wanted to sleep earlier because he was tired but the muffling sounds he tried to conceal betrayed his efforts when you passed by later that night.

it made you angry and disappointed in yourself. you really tried your best to juggle between being a mom and a dad at the same time, keeping an eye on your child and working your ass off to make a living for the two of you. you’d always put up a tough front, never broke down in front of him when you were dead tired from being overworked and the thought of him trying to not make you worry, shattered your heart into pieces. you know that all he deserves is a good life and you constantly blame yourself for not being good enough, mostly angry at your past self for not even knowing how to make good decisions and think things through.

if only you could turn back time, you would tell yourself to never get involved with a pro hero – to never get involved with someone who feels so responsible for other strangers’ lives but not their own child’s.

were you being selfish? for not understanding that his work always comes first? he can’t possibly have a family when he has villains out there that need to be put in their right place for their crimes. were you expecting too much from him?

“can’t you… get rid of it?” he muttered. his cold words felt like a sharp blade that just stabbed you in the heart. never once you thought that he would say that. how easy was it for him to ask you to throw out another life like it meant nothing?

“keigo, you can’t be serious.” you shook your head, your legs were already wobbling and you felt sick to your stomach. this news should be happy for the both of you but unfortunately, you two weren’t on the same page.

was it your fault? keigo never spoke about having a child together but he always said he’d love to build a family with you someday – he loved you, he would always protect you and be there for you. sure, it was a slip up this time. you always made sure to take proper measures to avoid pregnancy from happening but you were also more than glad to bear this child and you were convinced that keigo would be happy about it as much as you were. he loved you so much, after all.

“i don’t think…” he stammered, trying to find the right words. “give me some time.”

your lips pursed into a thin line, hands clenching hard and knuckles turning white. think? the uncertainty in his voice was already giving you the obvious answer. he couldn’t even look you in the eyes. he never wanted this.

“save the trouble, keigo.” you spat. “how about i’ll just leave so you don’t even have to think at all?”

keigo finally lifted up his head to look at you with wavering eyes, but he still couldn’t find the words to say, to comfort you. “what are you saying?”

“i’m still going to have this child. even if it means i have to do it alone.” with a sharp breath, you turned around towards the door.

you heard a frustrating sigh coming from your back, “you know i can’t. you know damn well that i have my job as a hero and i can’t look after… after a child!”

“but it’s your child keigo!” you turned around to scream and look at him again, tears already welling in your eyes, threatening to pour out.

“and what difference does that make?!” he yelled back. “in fact, that’s even worse!”

the room was quiet as the both of you just stood there. keigo slowly realizing what just came out of his mouth in the heat of the moment while you just stared at him in disbelief. both were standing stunned and speechless from what he clearly said. that was it, you thought.

“fuck you.” you cursed under your breath and immediately left his place, not even sparing a look back.

if he was sorry, he would chase after you. if he didn’t mean it, he would look everywhere for you.

but none of that happened.

you ended up going back to your hometown after that. it was shameful, to finally see your parents again but just to cry on their feet as soon as you saw their faces and telling them that you were carrying an illegitimate child. it was devastating for them initially but thankfully they easily accepted it, welcoming you to stay over at their place with open arms so they could help you throughout your pregnancy until the baby was born and grown. above all, you were still their daughter. living far away, your parents had never met keigo and they were shocked to know that you were having the no.2 pro hero’s baby but also disappointed at how he reacted when you told him the news.

however, what was done is done and you can only manage to move forward by raising the child with your utmost capability. you promised yourself that you’ll protect and raise this child with as much love and care a mother can offer. whatever it takes, even if you’ll have to do it by yourself.

you ended up living with your parents until your son turned four and decided to live independently, not wanting to burden them any longer. they didn’t want to let you go, the presence of the child brought so much joy in their daily lives. he was a bundle of sunshine and they loved him so much.

and kyō is just beautiful.

keigo’s genes manage to overpower your son compared to yours. fluffy but shorter blonde hair, dark and sharp on the inner corner of the eyes and not to forget the red wings on his back. it isn’t as big as keigo’s yet but it still stands out. although he takes on your personality more, every part of him reminds you of keigo and sometimes it feels like a jab to your chest. it hurts to be reminded of the man that hurt you and told you to get rid of the child you were bearing so ruthlessly.

throughout the years, you tried to make peace with the past. at first, it was hard to look at the news and see his face. he was almost everywhere, a lot of stores also sold his merchandise and his face even covered the magazines-- you realized you couldn’t escape him, your past. although he’s in the limelight, the media was still unaware about his private life and you were glad alas the similar features of kyō to the pro hero made some passersby and mothers at the park question you. fortunately, you already came up with a bullshit excuse like “he is such a big fan of hawks and he cosplays him every day… and oh, the wings are fake too.”

of course, strangers weren’t the only ones who inquired about it. even the little child himself could smartly notice his resemblance with the pro hero.

as soon as he first saw hawks on tv, he went on and on about how they looked so much alike. he was beyond fascinated, he could barely understand what the news was talking about at the time but being on the screen was more than enough to make him understand that hawks was an amazing guy. his eyes would twinkle in wonder when the news caught footage of him flying in the air with his red wings spreading graciously. if anything at all, kyō just couldn’t wait to flap his own smaller wings soon.

then one thing led to another. a question that any curious child would ask their parents about.

oftentimes kyō would ask you about his dad. why didn’t he have one like the other children he played with at the park and oftentimes you would try to avoid the topic and shrugged it off with a lame joke saying how you were also his dad and how you were powerful to have two bodies in one unlike other people.

he ended up growing tired of it one day, crying to you and asked if the reason why he didn’t have one was because he didn’t love him – something he heard one of the kids said. it broke you and you were lost for words. you called your parents for support and after much discussion, your mother thought he deserved to at least know the truth and you did just that.

luckily, he took it surprisingly well. even his little brain can comprehend the job of a top hero, he understood that it was a lot of work and keigo was often busy and far away. it was less to his liking when you made him promise you to not tell anyone about it and he should keep it as a secret because bad guys would chase after him if another single soul would know and his dad did it to protect him. it was a bad lie, but still, you had to do it.

later, kyō realized that his birthday was coming soon. he knew what he had always wanted. he didn’t know if he could have it but maybe… maybe if he tried and wished hard enough, it would come true.

he sneakily took your phone to look up “hawks'' on your phone, though at first he was only shown results and pictures of the literal bird before smartly adding “pro hero” at the back. with limited comprehension, he eventually managed to find the agency’s website before scrolling further to find the address to the agency and scribbled it down on a piece of paper.

“daddy?!” the bell has been ringing for a few times but you were too concentrated on decorating the birthday cake to even hear it but your son’s small wings flutter in excitement as he runs across the hallway to open the door.

your heart stops for a second. was that the reason why your son was pacing around the living room? you’re not expecting any guests for tonight’s dinner at all, especially the father of your child.

“hey! i got your letter!” the familiar excited tone of his voice bursts from the door as he speaks. he kneels down eye-level as his son and gives him a big hug. “happy birthday.”

“what letter?” you break into the conversation, arms folded in front of your chest as you lean against the wall with an unamused expression written across your face.

“i wrote daddy a letter!” your son says proudly, but you can already imagine the horrible squiggly lines on the handwritten letter.

“and you gave me a picture too. you look exactly like me, am so happy!” keigo chuckles, ruffling the hair of his boy, eliciting little giggles from the other. it’s a beautiful sight and it makes your heart ache a little at the image of what it could’ve been. if only he was fully ready to accept the fact that he was gonna bear a child. if only he knew how to balance between his career and personal life. you could’ve had the most beautiful family you’ve ever dreamed of.

“honey, can you go to your room for a bit? your daddy and i have to talk.” you say softly, hoping that he won’t take it any other way.

“am i.. in trouble?” kyō turns to you with a frown and puppy eyes – which he knows well that it would always work on you and it’s almost adorable how it’s exactly what keigo would do whenever he makes you annoyed with his antics. it’s just one of his ways to apologize to you.

you sigh and shake your head, “no. we’re gonna talk about…” you glance elsewhere as you think of an excuse. “your surprise present!”

“it’s not a surprise anymore if you say it like that, mommy!” the child laughs and scurries to his room as told and the both of you watch him with a smile tugged on your lips.

you turn back to keigo with a dour expression as soon as your son closes the door to his room, causing him to fidget a bit from his spot. he hasn’t seen it for years, after all. he’s about to pull you into a hug but instead, you quickly turn your heels around towards the kitchen.

“i still have things to do. either you help me with it or leave.”

he quickly takes off his shoes and follows you, taking in the view around the house before he enters the kitchen. the atmosphere is stuffy and tense while you sit on the stool to continue decorating the cake.

“you can help by setting up the plates. top cabinet.” you break the awkward silence and keigo obliges, he reaches the cabinet to take out the available plates and put them nicely around the table.

“you made it yourself?” he tries to make a conversation as he glances at you working on the cake.

“yeah.” you simply reply without taking your eyes off from your work.

“it’s nice. chocolate?”

“obviously.”

keigo sighs from the underwhelming response, “i know you don’t want me here but –”

“no shit.” you almost slam the table but quickly recompose yourself by taking a deep breath. for the sake of your son, you know you shouldn’t get into an argument right now, at least not today.

“look, i’ll leave as soon as this is over if that’s what you want.”

you glare at him, “it’s more than what i want right now,” then it’s your turn to sigh. “but i doubt that’s what kyō would want.”

keigo already knows his name from the letter but his lips etch into a warm smile at the sound of the name you’ve given to the-- his child and a small part of him wishes that he was there in the process of choosing a name for the boy together with you.

“okay, just for tonight. we’ll pretend like we’re a happy family.” you stand up from the stool after putting the last candle and set the cake in the middle of the table.

“...and what if we don’t have to?” he blurts out after a brief and quiet moment, immediately catching your attention. he notices the puzzled look on your face and continues, “what if we really start being a happy family from now and onwards?”

you blink once, twice. for a second, you feel a heavy pang in your chest as your brain processes the words that just came out from his mouth. it’s like déjà vu, only this time keigo has certainty in his voice.

the room falls dead silent again as you stare at each other. you’re finding words and about to open your mouth to say something but kyō suddenly interrupts from the corner of the kitchen and both of your attentions quickly turn to him.

“mommy..? i’m hungry.”

“oh, sweetheart. you’re just in time!” you walk up to kyō to carry him in your arms before bringing him to the dining table. his eyes sparkle at the variety of food spread across the table and his wings flutter in excitement.

“can you help light up the candles? the lighter is in the drawer.” you usher to keigo as you show your son his favorite food you made earlier while keigo quickly rummages through the drawer. he lights up each candle as you put down kyō on one of the chairs before he stands on his knees to reach close enough to blow the candles. the both of you excitedly sing happy birthday and clap your hands as he blows off the candles after a brief moment for a wish.

“what did you wish for?” keigo asks, affectionately patting kyō on the head.

“i wish to be a hero like daddy!” he exclaims, arms and wings spread in enthusiasm. a bittersweet feeling engulfs him-- a part of him is disappointed and ashamed of himself while another part of him is elated and relieved that he’s still looked up upon by his own child. in the corner of his heart, keigo thinks he doesn’t deserve it. kyō is a splitting image of himself (minus the color of his eyes that he takes after you) and it easily brings back visions of him from the past. he wanted to be a hero too, but his father wasn’t someone he could look up to. hence, making endeavor the only man he idolized.

he realizes he is lucky enough to be the person his son looks up to. he knows that this was what his own younger self would want. a father he can be proud of, a hero at that. keigo wants to make it right with whatever it’ll take.

the night proceeds smoothly, all three of you have fun together like any normal family would and bonding over lost times. keigo is thoughtful (though his choice seems a little bit conceited) enough to give kyō a present; an action figure of himself. unknowingly, the walls that you built around you by the time keigo arrived earlier slowly crumbles and you grow less wary around him as time ticks by. when it’s bedtime for the boy, keigo insists on putting him to bed so he can spend more time with him which you gladly consented to so you can also continue cleaning up the kitchen.

a set of footsteps coming down the stairs can be heard as you’re seated on one of the stools while sipping tea.

“want some tea?” you offer without turning around to look at the male.

“sure.” he says as he walks up to you.

you can feel his tall and lean build ghosting you from the back as you pour a cup for him but his hands suddenly reach your shoulders and give them light squeezes.

“what are you doing?” you ask quizzically, glancing at the hand on your shoulder.

“giving you a massage.” he smiles innocently as he continues pressing on the knot in your stiff shoulders, making you sigh in reflex.

“trying to get on my good side?” you say in a mocking tone.

“hmm, just showing my appreciation to you.” his hands move lower to your spine, your back arches a little as he presses down your aching muscles.

“you’re five years too late, keigo.” you sneer but welcome his service as you close your eyes and hum in content. it’s not that bad, you assure yourself in your head.

keigo diligently continues to massage your back as the kitchen now fills with your quiet sighs and whimpers whenever he rubs on the sore spot. without you realizing, he slyly pulls the collar of your baggy shirt down and plants soft kisses on your bare shoulder.

“k-keigo?” you immediately open your eyes and flinch at the sudden touch.

he remains quiet while his hands work up and down your arms gently and his lips move further up to your earlobe, sending tingling sensations down to your core and you can already feel your nipples harden underneath your shirt.

“relax.” his hot breath fans over your ear as he whispers. your cheeks are already burning red and you’re out of sarcastic remarks as you can only find yourself to indulge into his touches.

you gasp in surprise when keigo’s hands sneakily move under your shirt and quickly unsnaps your bra. he massages your breasts and kneads them gently before teasing your erect nipple between his fingers. your hands firmly clenches the edge of the island to hold yourself as he nips on the crook of your neck, just gently to carefully not leave a mark.

“you want more, babybird?” he coos as he realizes that your thighs are pressing against each other. as much as you hate to admit it, the nostalgic pet name tugs on your heartstrings and you find yourself melting after hearing it after years again.

feeling embarrassed, you quietly nod your head.

“i can’t hear you.” a teasing tone lingers in his voice. he knows what he’s doing and you hate him for it.

“more, keigo...” you whine. it sounds so innocent and adorable but it absolutely makes his cock twitch. noticing that you’ve been avoiding looking at him the whole time, he uses one of his hands to make you look at him and grins when he catches the red tint spread across your face before he presses his lips onto yours.

the traces of your ego make you hesitate at first but you’re quick to lose it as he deepens it, as if to send you a silent message of how much he misses you while his tongue intertwines with yours.

one of his hands remains to massage your mound while the other travels down south to easily part your legs and cups your heated sex. keigo rubs the clit against the fabric of your pants, eliciting breathy moans from your lips between kisses. you pull away and lean back to his body as he slides his hand under your pants, feeling the wet patch that is already staining your underwear.

“already wet from all of that?” he says playfully, taking out his hand to look at the damp juices as he rubs it between his fingers.

“says the man that was grinding his cock on my back.” you roll your eyes halfheartedly, missing the faint blush that becomes apparent on his cheeks.

keigo then reaches for the cups in front of you and pushes them aside before lifting you up on the kitchen island, making you turn towards him. he swiftly pulls down your pants along with your underwear, your cunt bare and glistening under the lights for him to see.

his golden irises lock with yours as he kicks the stool to the side and crouches down to spread your thighs apart. he starts to lap off your juices, tongue alternating between your throbbing clit and hole. your elbows help to prop you up as your head hangs back and your eyes close in pure bliss.

keigo smacks and clenches your thighs to draw your attention to him, “baby, look at me.”

you submissively lift your head to look at him, eyes locking with each other again as he watches you squirm on the tongue flicking your clit and eats you out like a starved man having his first meal after a long day.

you grab a lock of his blonde hair in one hand, pushing him closer as your legs tremble around his head, feeling the bubbling sensation of your orgasm building up.

“mmh – gonna cum!” you cry out in ecstasy, instantly forgetting the people next door and your son that’s sound asleep on the upper floor as you chase after your high.

keigo smoothly slides two fingers inside your pussy and your hips begin to grind desperately onto them. he knows you’re close when he feels the walls clenching around him and with another suck on the clit, he quickly gets to tip you over the edge.

“so good for me.” he coos as he pulls away, licking his fingers clean before carrying your panting body in his arms and walks over to sprawl your body on the couch. he hovers on top of you and kisses you again while his hands work on unzipping and taking off his lower garments to free his throbbing cock.

he smears the precum by pumping his cock as he watches you down, adoring the look of absolute bliss on your face and half lidded eyes that he longed for over the years.

“my songbird,” he purrs as he leans down to you and lines his cock with your wet cunt, “you’re so beautiful.”

if you’re already red, the endearing pet name makes you even redder. your gaze avoids his to hide your embarrassment but he only draws it back gently by your chin with his thumb and finger.

“don’t you miss me?” his brows furrowed as he searches your face. you can only stare back into his eyes – bright irises filled with nothing but genuine curiosity and desolation.

your lips pull into a thin line as you ponder for a moment, promptly unable to vocalize like earlier. it’s as if you let even one word escape your mouth, it would make you burst into tears instead. of course you missed him. your mind often wondered if he even thought of you at least once. even when you did make peace with the past, you still couldn’t bring yourself to be the one to make the first step. ego is an ugly thing and you were certain that keigo should be the one to look for you even if it was hard for him since you just disappeared out of his life.

noticing the reluctance to give him an answer, he shushes you. “it’s okay.” he kisses you sweetly on your nose. “but let me show how much i’ve missed you.”

he trails open mouthed kisses down your jaw, neck and collarbone as your hands run through his hair and down to his back. a soft whine manages to escape from your mouth when he nibbles on the soft flesh of your neck, instantly marking it red this time.

his mouth then latches onto your nipple through your shirt, making you squirm beneath him. your hands clenches to the fabric of his shirt when you feel his fingers teasingly dancing between your wet folds and his thumb ghosting over your clit.

keigo gives you a kiss on the lips again before pulling away, the cushion dips as he props himself on the knees, rubbing his hard cock against your wet slits and smearing it with your juices.

a low hiss slips from his lips as he slowly prods in the tip of his cock and your expression twists into discomfort as you feel him stretch you out more – a familiar mixture of pain and pleasure that you haven’t felt for a while.

keigo waits for you to adjust and as soon as you give him the greenlight, he continues to completely balls deep inside you.

“babybird, you feel so good.” he grunts as he bucks his hips and slowly starts to move.

you bite your lower lip hard, enough to draw blood as you try to stifle your moans. keigo leans down to kiss you while your arms find themselves wrapping around his neck. he thrusts harder and faster and your whimpers and whines finally find themselves shamelessly slipping past from your mouth.

“fucking– hah– perfect.” he pants as he pulls away to look at your flustered face, eyes half closed and mouth agape with pleasure.

you quickly bury your face on the crook of his neck and hold onto him tighter while your legs wrap securely around his waist. keigo moves his thumb on your clit, pressing down and rubbing circles all to entice nothing but tightening the coil down in your core more.

“keigo, keigo –” you cry as your nails dig the fabric on his back and your toes curl to the intense sensation.

“baby wants to cum?” he growls as he feels your walls clamping around his cock, making him buck his hips even wilder.

“yesyesyes – oh god, keigo!” your mind turns putty and unable to form any more coherent words, making only his name being the only thing you remember as your eyes close shut while you’re nearing your high.

“that’s it – baby. cum on my cock.” he encourages and you do just that. your pussy flutters as you finally reach your orgasm but his sporadic thrusts doesn’t stop until it starts to falter and his wings tremble.

“fuck. i’m gonna fill you up.” he grits through his teeth and his cock twitches before his wings spread wider as he releases his warm cum inside you.

the both of your bodies stay against each other, chests heaving for air before he briefly pulls out his cock and lays on top of your chest.

“yes.” your voice suddenly croaks, breaking the almost silent air in the room if not for the sound of yours and his breathing.

keigo lifts up his head to look at you confusingly before a lopsided smile curls on his lips when he hears you utter the next few words.

“yes. i missed you and i don’t want to pretend anymore.” you suddenly feel overwhelmed and tears start to well in your eyes. a flash of panic crosses his face and he pulls you closer into his embrace, hoping to calm you down as you sniffle on his chest.

“shh, baby. i’m sorry. i know it’s too late and i was so fucking stupid but i’ll – ”

“i want to live as a happy family with you, keigo.” you cut him off, sobbing through his shirt. he pulls away at once to look at you, unable to believe what he just heard through the choking sob but it still makes even him want to cry.

“babybird, i – ” he’s completely tongue-tied. at this point he can only manage to lean down to be close to you again. he peppers kisses all over your face, saying how thankful and happy he is.

“i love you, my little bird. i won’t fuck up this time, i promise.” he whispers, finally regaining his composure.

that night, keigo could barely sleep a wink. so many thoughts are running through his head. he glances at you sleeping peacefully next to him on the bed and he already pictures how it is to be waking up to see your face every morning. he also hopes that kyō doesn’t know how to fly yet so he could teach him how to use his wings. oh, he’ll also get to find an excuse to buy more buckets of chickens once you three will start living together.

he can already imagine how the headlines will be bombarded about him having a family and he sighs at the thought, but he hopes that his publicist is ready for a hell lot of work.

987 notes · View notes

neonlights92 · 3 years

Text

RUN: Chapter II

Jeon Jungkook hops from bed to bed, sleeping with as many beautiful, rich women as he can possibly find time for. He’s young and attractive, with a silver tongue that gets him practically anything he wants. So when his friend and boss, Kim Taehyung, tells him it’s time to settle down, Jungkook takes it pretty badly. And when he finds out that the woman he’s destined to marry is, in fact, his little sister’s best friend, he is less than impressed.

You have spent your entire life trying to forget the way you feel about Jeon Jungkook. So when you find out that Jungkook is to be your husband - and that he is anything but pleased about it - your world is thrown into chaos. How can you survive a loveless marriage with the man you are hopelessly in love with?

WARNINGS: Language, some violence and eventual smut.

A/N:ENJOY!!!!

Your wedding came and went like the wind.

It hadn’t been a large affair - barely more than fifty people had attended - but your mother had cried of course, and so had Jungkook’s mum, and at the end of it you were Mrs Jeon.

Your new husband had kissed you at the end of it - gently, quickly, like it didn’t really mean much - but you couldn’t help it that your heart skipped at the feeling. Your first kiss with the man you’d spent most of your life loving, and it was like vapour.

And now here you were, stood in the foyer of Jungkook’s apartment, wondering what the hell you were doing. You felt like some kind of imposter - a woman only pretending to be Jungkook’s wife. You tightened the hold on your suitcase, the one your mother had made you pack only a week prior.

“Most of your things will be sent over in the days after you marry,” She’d told you, eyes mischievous, “But you’ll need something special for your wedding night.”

You scoffed.

Your wedding night had been anything but spectacular.

Bangtan had splashed out on an incredibly expensive hotel complete with matching robes and expensive champagne, but you’d spent most of the night alone. You hadn’t been able to bare much of the reception, claiming a headache only an hour and a half into the festivities, and though Jungkook had seemed less than happy about it, he’d told you to make your way to the hotel room without him.

Of course, when you’d arrived all you’d done was to get into bed and cry yourself into some kind of dreamless sleep, feeling like nothing could ever make you happy again. Hours had passed before Jungkook joined you, and when he did, you didn’t mention the smell of perfume on him, and he stayed far, far away from you.

You shook your head furiously, trying to rid your mind of all those horrible memories.

One day, you hoped, you’d have beautiful children, and then you could shower them with all of your unrequited love.

“Are you listening to me?”

Jungkook’s voice shook you out of your reverie and you turned to face him sharply, eyes wide.

“What?”

He sighed heavily, “I said you can either move into the guest room or join me in the master bedroom. What would you prefer?”

You knew what your heart wanted of course.

As stupid as it may have been - and it was astoundingly dumb - you still wanted to share Jungkook’s life with him. You wanted to be able to indulge in the intimacies of marriage and your chest tightened as you remembered what you were to your husband - a hindrance.

“Will it be alright if we share different beds?”

He rose a dark brow, “What do you mean?”

“Your employees,” You clarified, tucking some hair behind your ears and avoiding his eyes, “They won’t think it’s… Inappropriate, will they?”

You hated the strange code of conduct you were being forced into. You loved Jungkook - you wanted to give him yourself, whole heartedly - and yet you had to walk around the truth. You had to pretend like every moment you spent here wasn’t causing irreparable damage to your heart.

Jungkook shrugged, “So what if they do? I don’t give a shit what people say and neither should you. You should sleep wherever you prefer.”

The words hung in the air and you watched his face carefully.

He knew how you felt about him didn’t he? So he had to know you’d prefer sharing his bed. You collected yourself, and after a moment smiled gently.

“Then I think we should share the master bedroom.” If he was surprised he hid it well.

“Okay. This way then.”

You followed him down the hallway and stared at the planes of his back. The suit jacket he was wearing hugged his shoulders perfectly, and despite yourself something in your stomach swelled.

You were his wife now, weren’t you?

Did that not come with certain expectations?

You wondered if Jungkook even found you attractive. Surely if he wanted you in any capacity, he would’ve come looking for your company on your wedding night.

You bit back the tears. Now was not the time for this.

The master bedroom was big of course, but basically empty. Jungkook cleared his throat as you stood in the doorway to the room, observing your surroundings.

“I don’t spend a lot of time at home,” He started by way of explanation, “So urm… That’s why everything’s quite bare.”

You nodded slowly, “I understand.”

“You can do whatever you want in here,” He waved his hand noncommittally, “Within reason, of course.” The joke was weak but you pushed out a soft laugh nonetheless.

“Is that all you have with you?” He pointed at the small piece of luggage you were holding.

You shrugged, “My mom insisted she’d have the rest sent over to me,” You dropped the suitcase at the end of the huge bed you’d be sharing with Jungkook for maybe the rest of your life.

“So what’s in there then?” He cocked his head to the side, confused.

You felt your cheeks blush, brazenly, and you cleared your throat, more than a little uncomfortable.

“She told me to pack some things for the wedding night,” You answered, finally lifting your gaze to meet with his, “It’s not a big deal.”

But you knew that was a lie. Your heart was beating rapidly at just the thought of Jungkook knowing you’d brought intimate clothing along with you, and you knew that the only reason you’d told him it was because you wanted him to think about you scantily clad in lacy underwear.

You wanted him to be attracted to you, despite the fact this marriage was born out of duty for him. You thought that maybe if he wanted your body, you could find a way to open up his heart as well.

“They still do that?” Jungkook’s voice was painted with disbelief.

You quirked a brow, “Do what?” “The whole wedding night lingerie thing,” He laughed tightly, “My hyungs all told me about it but it just sounds… Kind of outdated to me.” Another stab in the heart. You tugged a hand through your hair.

“Oh.” He frowned carefully and sighed, “I’m sorry. Did that hurt your feelings?”

It pained you how easily Jungkook saw through your armour. How would you survive a lifetime with him? How could you hide from his gaze when he knew you so well?

You felt stupid and useless suddenly.

“No.” You replied, voice catching slightly at the end, “You’re right. It is outdated.” You thought of the racy red number your mother had insisted Jungkook would love. He would never see it of course - but part of you had hoped he would. Part of you had hoped he’d not only see you in it… But love you in it, too.

It was a foolish hope.

“Is it alright if I rest?” You asked him after a moment, smiling despite the tears that crawled up the back of your throat, “I’m really quite tired. It’s been a long week.”

Jungkook’s eyes searched your face and you forced your expression into one of neutrality. Just because he knew how you felt - just because he knew you loved him - didn’t mean you always had to be the vulnerable one.

You could learn to protect yourself. You’d grown up around monsters. Around people who manipulated and hurt others.

You just had to learn how to navigate this new reality.

This marriage.

“Yes of course,” Jungkook told you once his eyes had searched right down to the very depths of your soul, “Dinner will be served at around seven, okay?”

You nodded, tightly, “Fine.”

He watched you for a moment more, before finally slipping out of the door and allowing your facade to finally relax. You crawled onto the king sized bed, and pulled the blankets up around you - finally giving way to the tears that had been scratching the back of your eyelids since the minute you woke up this morning.

And as you lay in the bed you’d share with your husband - crying once again over the man who had your heart but didn’t deserve it - you promised yourself that this would be that last time.

That you wouldn’t cry over Jeon fucking Jungkook again.

And even though you were lying to yourself, you repeated that mantra to yourself all night. Over and over again.

Until finally you fell asleep.

And even then you dreamt of him.

The days passed through your fingers like sand. You spent more time than ever pining after Jungkook - qua though the two of you now shared a bed, nothing had changed.

During the day your husband was barely home. And even when he was he was always too busy to pay you any attention.

And at night you slept as far away from each other as possible. Most nights were spent falling asleep to the sight of the planes of his smooth back.

Jungkook wasn’t cruel. He always spoke to you kindly. He smiled whenever he saw you, and occasionally laughed at any jokes you tried to make.

But he was distant. Always held you at an arm’s length.

He never searched out your company, and you wondered if maybe that was because he knew how you felt. He knew you loved him - he knew you’d loved him for so long - and maybe he didn’t want to make matters worse.

He had never promised you love. In fact… He had almost promised you the polar opposite.

And so you spent most of your time alone.

Today was no different.

You tugged on the thread you were using to patch up one of Jungkook’s suit jackets - no doubt he’d created the tears during one of his many business meetings - and sighed heavily to yourself.

You’d seen the jacket earlier that morning, hanging in your shared closet, when you’d noticed the hole. Perhaps it was a need to make Jungkook happy, or perhaps it was boredom, but either way now you were sitting with a needle and thread, fixing it.

A knock at the door pulled you out of what you were doing.

“Come in,” You said softly, expecting Jennie to be on the other side. When the portal opened and it was actually Nayeon you stood excitedly, dropping Jungkook’s jacket and rushing over to her.

“Did you miss me?” She smiled widely as you rushed into her waiting embrace, squeezing her tightly.

“Oh my god, so much,” You pulled back and felt your eyes well up with tears, “Sorry. I’m so emotional these days.”

She grinned and ran a hand through your hair, “Nothing to apologise for.”

You led her over to the small couch that sat in the corner of your bedroom, and the two of you sat down together.

“How have you been?” She asked after a moment.

You wiped at a tear that had unceremoniously tracked down your cheek, “He barely talks to me.”

The words were not accusing, but there was sadness in them.

Nayeon frowned, “He’s acting like a real jackass.”

“No,” You shook your head vehemently, “It’s not his fault. This whole situation… It’s fucked up.”

“Still. He shouldn’t be mean.”

“He isn’t,” You insisted, “We just… He’s hardly at home as it is… And when he is the last thing he wants to do is talk to me.”

“I’m sorry Y/N,” She really did look sorry too.

You shrugged helplessly, “How many marriages in Bangtan are loveless?”

“Whatever. I just hope he’s not…” She stopped herself abruptly and clicked her tongue, “Never mind.”

You quirked a brow, “No…What were you going to say Nayeon?”

”I don’t want to upset you more,” She answered honestly, eyes shifting across your face carefully.

“There’s next to nothing at the moment that could make me feel any worse.”

It was a terrible sentiment, but it was the truth. Things seemed so bleak that you couldn’t imagine any information would cause a further rift in your already distant marriage.

“It’s just…” Nayeon tugged a hand through her hair and pursed her lips, “You know what Jungkook is like. He’s always dated lots of women at the same time. I’m just - I hope he’s ended those relationships.”

Your heart sank.

Immediately his words from earlier that month rolled across your mind.

I’m not a man of commitment.

Did that mean he didn’t want to be faithful to you? Was he warning you of his inability to keep to just one woman for the rest of his life?

You hadn’t even considered the possibility that Jungkook would cheat on you. Sure, he’d told you he might never love you… But an affair would be too much, wouldn’t it?

“I don’t - we haven’t spoken about that.” You felt your voice shake.

“I know my brother can be a bastard,” Nayeon shook her head, “But if he cheated on you… I would never forgive him.”

Her words fell on you like concrete.

Would you be able to forgive him?

In a sense, Jungkook didn’t really owe you faithfulness did he? In fact… He might have very well warned you against it.

You swallowed thickly.

“You should ask him about it,” Your best friend’s words were resolute, “If he cares for you… Even a little bit, then he’ll give you that respect.”

She was right of course.

Arranged marriage or not, he still owed you basic decency.

You nodded gently, “You’re right.” Your chest was tight as Nayeon reached over and squeezed your hand, “I will.”

Now you would just have to work up the courage to do it.

Nayeon’s words played over and over again in your mind for the following week. You had thought you were strong enough to bring it up to your husband but the truth was every time you wanted to do it, the words had slipped into the back of your throat. Just one look into Jungkook’s dark brown eyes and you had found yourself rendered helpless.

“Y/N.” Jungkook’s voice caused you to look up as you finished working on his suit jacket, “Hi.”

“Oh.” The word left you in a rush, “Sorry. I didn’t realise you would be home so early.” It was a Friday afternoon - sometime after four - and he was standing in the doorway of your bedroom, watching you the way he always did.

“What are you doing?” Your fingers faltered and you pulled the jacket up slightly, “Fixing this for you. It’s been my pet project for the last week.”

“Oh.” He mirrored your expression of surprise from earlier, taking a step towards you, “I see.” There was a beat of silence and then, “Why?” You tightened your grip on the jacket and felt your stomach roll over in anxiety.

“Why what?”

His eyes flickered, “Why are you fixing it for me?” Because I love you.

Of course you couldn't say that, so instead you opted for a shrug.

“Something to do, I suppose.”

After another long moment of watching, Jungkook smiled softly.

“Thank you,” He said, words warm, “That’s very kind of you.” You blushed at the compliment, however small it may be, and returned his smile, “It’s nothing.”

“I uh…” He cleared his throat and shook his head, “I realised that I forgot to tell you something quite important.” You cocked your head to the side, “What is it?” “Tonight. There’s a gala. One of Jimin’s things…”

You felt something akin to excitement swell inside of you. It was sad… But any reason to spend time with Jungkook was something to be celebrated.

“Right.” Your smile widened, “What time?”

“Eight pm,” He told you carefully, “And you’ll need to dress up.” “I know that don’t worry. I’ve been to Jimin’s galas before,” Your voice was slightly teasing and you almost reprimanded yourself for it.

Perhaps once upon a time you could joke with Jungkook like that, but things were different now… Weren't they? Except Jungkook didn’t seem annoyed.

He chuckled and rolled his eyes, “How could I forget? You and Nayeon love causing trouble at the expense of my poor friend Jimin.” You giggled, “We both know Nayeon is the mastermind behind any and all trouble caused,” You shrugged, “I’m a helpless bystander.” “Helpless my ass,” His lips fell into a smirk, “Just because you look like an angel doesn't mean you always act like one.”

Your heart flipped.

An angel?

Jungkook must have noticed the change in your demeanor, because he suddenly seemed awkward himself. He coughed slightly and tugged a hand through his dark hair.

“Anyway. Just uh… be ready at half seven, alright?” His face had slipped back into that infamous Bangtan mask, but you were still warm from his earlier words.

“Okay. I will.” “And uh… Will the jacket be fixed for tonight?”

You felt slightly dazed. Jacket?

“Huh?” His smile was small but he nodded towards the piece of clothing you were gripping so tightly your knuckles had turned white, “Your pet project.”

“Oh right.” You turned the jacket over in your hands and nodded, “Yes. Yeah. It’ll be ready.” “Great. I’ll have Minhyuk prepare the matching trousers for me, then.”

He smiled once more before leaving, and you realised you were holding your breath.

God.

It felt like you had been punched in the stomach.

But you sort of liked it.

“You look beautiful Y/N.” Your maid Jennie tugged the brush through your hair one last time, “The red is striking.” You ran a hand down the bodice of the dress you’d chosen to wear - something stupidly expensive and incredibly tight - and smiled at her nervously.

“Thank you.”

“Jungkook isn’t going to know what to do with himself,” She giggled and your grin widened.

The two of you had always been close, despite the gap in social status.

You didn’t care what tradition dictated, Jennie was your friend - employee or not.

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” You chuckled, biting on your bottom lip, “What time is it?” A knock at the door caused your head to turn and Jennie smirked.

“He’s right on time.” Your stomach fluttered at the thought of your husband, and when your maid moved to throw the portal open you almost fainted.

He looked… so good.

“Hi,” He smiled gently, “Are you ready?” You knew you were checking him out but you couldn’t help yourself.

The suit jacket you’d fixed for him fit him perfectly… And the trousers he was wearing only served to accentuate his perfect thighs.

“Y/N?” He cocked his head to the side and your heart twinged as a lock of hair fell precariously across his forehead.

Damn it.

Jennie pinched your arm and you realised how obvious you were being.

“Sorry,” You cleared your throat, “Yeah. I’m ready.”

You weren’t ready at all. Not to spend the rest of the evening in close quarters with the man who made you feel like a lovestruck teenager, anyway.

But what choice did you have?

Jungkook led you towards the garage, where his very expensive Porsche was parked, and when he held the door open for you, your pulse squeezed.

“Thanks,” You said, cheeks blazing.

Jungkook’s eyes flickered as he watched you climb inside, “No problem.” He answered tightly, clicking the door shut and sliding into the driver’s seat.

It wasn’t until you eased onto the main road that Jungkook spoke again.

“You look nice,” He said, his eyes meeting yours in the rearview mirror.

You turned to face him, your heart thumping uncomfortably against your ribcage, “What?”

“Oh come on don’t act like I’ve never said anything nice to you before,” He groaned, “You’ll make me feel like an asshole.”

“Oh I uh…” You blushed hotly, “Thanks. I guess.”

“You guess? Wow, way to take a compliment, Y/N.” His tone was teasing and you felt yourself falling back into the friendship you’d shared with him before the two of you had been forced into marriage.

This was the Jungkook you fell in love with.

“I just didn’t expect you to say that,” You clarified, turning to look at this side profile.

God he was so handsome, it almost hurt.

“Well it’s true,” He shrugged and shot you a small smile, “You look nice.” “Well so do you.” The words slipped out of you eagerly, “The uh… The suit jacket looks great.”

His smile grew, “It does. Thanks to you, of course. My little seamstress.”

Your heart skipped.

His little seamstress?

“Right,” You choked out, “Well. If you ever need anything fixed then just send it my way.”

“I will.”

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you but all you could think about was the fact that he’d called you his. Sure, it was in jest, and yeah maybe it wasn't the most romantic of things to say… But still.

It had to count for something.

When Jungkook pulled up in front of the same hotel Bangtan always used for social events, your heart was still fluttering wildly in your chest, but you forced yourself to remain calm.

There were paparazzi milling around the front entrance of the hotel of course, like there always were whenever Jimin organised a gala. Suddenly you felt inadequate.

You’d never been photographed before - your family was not famous enough… You were not beautiful enough for the media to give a shit.

But you knew that Jungkook was well loved by the media - not only was he Bangtan’s resident casanova - but he was also the most open of the special seven. He smiled for photos and had even occasionally bantered with the paparazzi. He dated celebrities - models, singers… Actresses. He was the media’s golden boy.

He was everyone’s golden boy.

Jungkook must have noticed your nerves because he turned to give you a soft smile.

“It’s alright Y/N. Just hold my hand and ignore them okay?”

You nodded, wordlessly, as he stepped out of the car and after a minute opened your door for you. Immediately you felt the buzz of flashbulbs, and you were almost blinded by the light. A warm hand enveloped your own and soon Jungkook was tugging you along.

You blinked against the flashing and watched your husband’s sturdy back, as he led you towards the front entrance determinedly.

“Jungkook! Jungkook! Is this your mysterious new girl?” “Jungkook! Is it true you’re married?”

“Jungkook! Smile!”

Jungkook didn’t stop for any questions and you were thankful for that, holding tightly onto his hand until he finally slipped inside the lobby of the hotel and the paparazzi was behind you. He dropped your hand and you immediately felt cold.

“Here,” He offered his arm, “This is the way Jimin’s always telling me to enter a room.” You nodded and slipped your own arm through his, ignoring the buzz that flitted through you at the contact.

God. You loved him so much.

“Was that as bad as you thought it was going to be?” He asked, eyes sympathetic as he led you over towards the ornate marble staircase.

You bit your bottom lip and sighed, “It was tough.”

“I’m sorry,” He frowned, “Really. It will get better.”

“Jungkook-ah!”

You would recognise that voice anywhere.

Jihyo.

She was coming towards the two of you, beautiful face donning a wide smile. Her eyes flickered between your linked arms for a moment, before she reached you.

“Hello Jihyo,” Jungkook nodded his head politely, “How are you?”

“I’m great Jungkookie,” The nickname caused a hot flush of anger to roll through you. You knew exactly what game she was playing, “How are you?” “I’m fine,” He turned to give you a smile, “You know my wife Y/N, don’t you?” Jihyo’s body froze at the word wife. She was Taehyung’s cousin.

Surely she had to know the two of you had gotten married.

“Yeah, yeah.” She gave you a sharp look, “Nice to see you Y/N.” But her words felt anything but nice.

Immediately you were reminded of Nayeon’s warning.

Your heart thundered against your chest.

What if Jungkook and Jihyo were….

You felt like you were going to be sick.

“Anyway Jungkook I was going to ask you if you were free next weekend,” Her smile was coy as she fluttered her eyelashes up at your husband, “It’s my birthday and-” “We have plans.”

The words surprised you as much as they did Jungkook and you’d been the one to say them.

Jihyo’s gaze flickered over to your own and she raised an angry eyebrow, “What?”

“Me and my husband have plans next weekend,” You pasted the fakest smile onto your face, “Maybe next time.”

And with that you pulled Jungkook away from Jihyo pulse roaring in your ears. You had no idea where that bout of courage had come from but just who did she think she was anyway?

Just because she’d always had everything she wanted, didn’t give her the right to act like a brat.

After a moment, Jungkook turned to give you a smirk, “What was that?” You tried to act nonchalant.

“What was what?”

“That.” His smirk grew, “Were you jealous?” You felt something hot split across your cheeks.

“I don’t want you dating other women.”

The words fell like stones between the two of you.

Jungkook stopped, his eyes raking over you. He frowned.

“I wouldn’t… I would never do that.” “You told me you weren’t a man of commitment,” You told him sincerely, feeling irrational tears crawl up your throat, “But I can’t… I won’t be able to deal with it if you have an affair.”

Jungkook’s eyes softened. He shook his head.

“I didn’t mean I would see other women Y/N.” He pressed a hand to your cheek and you wilted at his touch, “You’re my wife and I respect that. Alright?”

You nodded, eyes boring into his. You wished he would just open himself up to you.

“Okay.” You whispered, not caring that you were surrounded by people, “Thank you.” He pulled his hand away and nodded gently.

Something in his gaze flickered. Whether it was genuine affection or desire or something else entirely you weren’t sure. But it wasn’t that cold indifference he wanted you to believe.

“Let’s go. The others are waiting.”

Your heart turned as he slipped his hand into yours.

If only he could learn to love you, then maybe you really could be happy.

If only.

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x reader #fanfic #mafia au #arrange marriage #unrequited love #one sided love #bangtan #bts #fanfiction #angst #smut #fluff

1K notes · View notes

buttercupbuck · 3 years

Note

(I‘m not trying to start shit, i‘m just curious, so feel free to ignore this) What are some takes on here that you absolutely hate? I know you’re one of the people who are fighting Eddie’s terrible mischaracterization in this fandom and i can‘t thank you enough for that.

oh boy where to start lmao ok (under a cut bc it got long)

the firefam doesn't do enough to show buck they love him

the above for maddie in particular.....like did we forget that she trapped herself in an abusive marriage to give buck a chance at freedom and happiness? or that she spent her childhood raising him because their parents wouldn't?

the idea that buck's love and generosity are nonreciprocal. like i love buck so so much but fandom has defo exaggerated the extent to which he's there for others. like i weirdly don't remember seeing him supporting hen in the aftermath of 3.08, or being there for chim after he was stabbed, or visiting athena in the hospital in 3.17, etc. and i'm sure he was there for some of this bc he loves them and not everything can be shown in a 45 minute show, but no one extends this same understanding towards everyone else in the firefam (people still whine about no one being there for him in the hospital in 2.18, or the fact that they DARED go home to their families in 3.16). the fact is that - on screen - we see them supporting him more than we see the reverse, but that doesn't fit in with fanon!buck so people ignore it

literally just all the billion variations of takes that infantilize buck/villainize the firefam + distort canon to make buck out to be the victim of literally every scenario. i can't even try to list them all because the devil works hard but rabid buck stans work harder

oh but also the comparisons of taylor to the therapist from s1 and the claim that she took advantage of buck in the finale (...as if she wasn't incredibly worried about buck and going Through it, and as if buck isn't a grown man who clearly thought through his decision? ok)

i've been through all the eddie stuff before but people will bend over backwards to assume the worst of him and once again make buck out to be the victim in their relationship. and legitimately why is this something you want out of a pairing you ship,,,i don't get it

just in general, people who aren't mixed/mexican feeling like they have the authority on eddie's experience with his culture and religion. please shut the ever living fuck up and stay in your lane :)))

not necessarily a take but just fandom behavior, but it was very transparent when people learned that gw wasn't latina and jumped on that train to justify their hatred of ana as if they hadn't been mocking eddie's full name and the way ana said it the day before...and then who still continued to use "edmundo" as a way to safely spew their eddie hatred and refused to listen to latinx who tried to point out that it was hurtful. them pretending like they suddenly cared about latinx was genuinely comical

also it's clear that people only care about and are willing to "claim" eddie as long as he doesn't step out of line and as long as he does things that lead to some canon buddie future. i don't trust most people who claim to care about him for this reason lmao

#im in a mood this morning so this got long lmao but that's all i can think of off the top of my head at least #i know there are a billion im forgetting but i feel like this got rambly enough #pretty much all bad takes boil down to people victimizing buck for no goddamn reason #or people being misogynistic + racist for no goddamn reason #but man am i Tired #ask #anon #negativity

131 notes · View notes

aereres · 3 years

Text

Loving You Was A Mistake - Elias Lindholm | Rock Band AU

Summary: Elias was trouble, Amelia could tell from the moment they had first met. With his flirty smile, stormy eyes that brought crowds of girls to his feet, and a cocky personality, he was the last person Amelia wanted to deal with. But with alcohol flowing through her system, she had never been the one to make good decisions.

A/N: I kinda like how this fic turned out, and I hope you’ll enjoy it too!

Word Count: 12,6k

Warnings: SMUT, drinking, anxiety and panic, heartbreak, swearing

“Rum and coke,” Elias yelled over the loud rhythm of the music he hated - the music he listened to almost every night. The bartender spared him a quick look, nodding his head as he registered the order before leaving the guitarist on his own to look at the thick mass of dancing bodies in the middle of the dance floor.

Elias Lindholm had been the party scene ever since High School, in search of fun, girls, alcohol, and drugs. It was who he had grown up to be, no shame in what he loved to do, and his rise to fame truly didn’t change his lifestyle: in some way, it made his nightly adventures even better.

There was a moment before a manicured hand grasped his arm, grabbing his attention. His charming smile appeared on his lips without an order, and he was left to face the smaller girl who had touched him with hungry eyes.

“Looking for something, sweetheart?” Elias said, enjoying the way her hands slid from his bicep to his chest.

“A man to spend the night with,” her words were said in his ear, her sweet voice not as sensual as he had hoped it would be. His light eyes searched for hers, a hint of sexual tension filling the air as he put his needs before everything else. He wasn’t going to refuse a night of sex, especially if it was with someone as hot as the girl in front of him.

“A man to spend the night with,” he repeated, smirking as he let his hand ghost the curve of her ass. “I can work with that,”

The girl smirked too, lips slowly inching closer to his as the music surrounding them subsided. He was left to kiss her hungrily, not a care in the world that he was in the middle of a packed club. Elias just kissed her, trying to lure her to his bed, just like he did every night.

He pulled away just when he couldn’t bear it anymore, turning around to take a sip of his drink. Except, it wasn’t his drink. Dry martini was burning his throat as his flushed face took a look of disgust, his eyes roaming around to find the bartender in search of an explanation.

All he was faced with, though, was another face of disgust, pretty lips pulled in a pout as the girl next to him swore. “Fucking hell,”

The liquid inside her glass was dark, and Elias could only guess she had taken a blind swig of the alcohol - just like he had done. “Where’s my martini?”

Elias smirked as he forgot about the girl he had just kissed, taking a seat next to his new companion as he switched their drinks confidently. “There you go,”

The woman next to him turned around with her features tugged in a frown, hands moving quickly as she pushed the glass of martini back to him. “There’s no way I’m drinking that. You just exchanged spit with that chick, man,”

Elias chuckled, jaw clenching as he gave the new stranger in front of him a once-over. Her dress was tight against her skin, red lipstick sticking out even under the dark lights of the club. She was breathtaking, and the girl from a few minutes prior was already more than forgotten. She was part of the past, the woman in front of him was the present.

“Looking for someone to dance with?” He asked smugly, finger ghosting over the rim of his glass, the print of her lipstick still coloring one side.

“You definitely wouldn’t be that someone,” the woman stated, signaling for the bartender to come closer, ordering another glass of dry martini.

“Put it on my check,” Elias said, ignoring the woman’s annoyed groan. His eyes went back to her, smirk still painting his lips. “What do I have to do to learn your name, sweetheart?”

The woman laughed ironically, eyebrows arching as she took a good look at him. “You think I’d be interested in you? Very funny,”

“We both know you’ll end up in my bed, by the end of the night,”

Elias’ words made the woman scoff, eyes rolling as she grabbed the new glass of martini the bartender had just passed her. “Keep telling yourself, scout,” she hummed, tipping her head back and taking a large gulp of the drink. “I got better things to do than to sleep with an egocentric asshole,”

Elias just smirked, his stubbornness making his body light up on fire as he watched her stand up from her stool. He was going to have her. “I’ll see you later, sweetheart,”

“The name is Amelia,” she hissed his way, looking behind her shoulder. “Just so you can stop using those basic pet names on me,”

“Elias,” he smirked, watching her hips sway as she left his side, disappearing behind the tall wall of people on the dance floor. Elias was left to himself as he looked down at his drink, a grin forming on his lips as his new acquaintance stayed on his mind.

Amelia was still scoffing as she headed for the dance floor, hips automatically swaying to the rhythm of the music as she found a spot in the middle. She felt numerous eyes on her as she danced, hands feeling her body up as she pushed the tension off her shoulders.

Who the fuck did that stranger think he was?

He was a very good-looking stranger, if she had to be honest, but he for sure wasn’t worth her time. He let his charm get to his head, she thought as she danced, shaking her head softly when she realized just what she was doing. She was thinking about him, and he didn’t deserve to be talked about.

So, she danced, even with strangers. She couldn’t exactly place it, but dancing with random men sent her body in a frenzy. She heated up as she swayed her hips, forehead growing sweaty, throat drying. Amelia felt like an animal, the club her natural habitat.

Even if on her own, she danced until her legs couldn’t hold her up anymore, until she felt sweaty, until she couldn’t take it anymore. She went back to the bar just when it was really needed, hoping that the stranger from earlier had left and she could enjoy a drink on her own.

Elias was still there, though, uncharacteristically silent as he nursed another glass of rum and coke. He was surprised at himself for spending the night alone: normally, he would have been at home by midnight, having sex with the girl he picked up that night. Instead, he was there, eyeing his prey as she made her way towards the other side of the countertop.

Their eyes met, Amelia’s squaring him as her eyebrows furrowed. She couldn’t believe he was still there. Elias couldn’t keep his eyes off of her, and Amelia couldn’t help herself either.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the heat, but she couldn’t deny the sudden attraction towards the man a few feet away from her. All her self-control seemed to leave her body when he stood up from his chair, taking his time to make his way past the crowd surrounding them. She filled with jitters as she downed her drink, letting the alcohol burn her insides and wake her body up.

A firm body pressed against her back just as she put her glass down, a huff of warm breath hitting her cheek as a familiar voice snapped her out of her trance.

“I knew you’d give in,” Elias whispered in her ear, voice sending shivers down her spine. “You can’t resist me, nobody can,”

“Don’t let it get to your head too much, boy,” Amelia hissed, turning around to face him, her index finger stabbing his chest. “You’re still a stuck-up, egocentric dick that-”

Elias’ lips crashed against hers quickly, her body freezing for a sharp second before she could get comfortable again. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer just as his tongue parted her lips, his hands leaving a hot trail everywhere they touched.

Amelia felt in heaven for a second as she let him have control, her fingers burying themselves in his hair as he started to pull away, keeping him closer for one more second. Elias parted ways to call the bartender, ordering two shots before paying his check.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Amelia asked, confusion and annoyance coating her tone as she looked up at the man.

“I’m doing you a favor,” Elias smirked, grabbing the smaller glasses and pushing one her way. “Drink, so you won’t bitch in the morning,”

He made the shot glasses clink before throwing his head back and downing the drink, admiring Amelia when she followed his lead. Her features scrunched for a quick second before she looked up at him, grabbing the neck of his shirt to pull him down, their lips meeting quickly.

“You better make it worth it, asshole,” Amelia whispered against his lips, the smirk painting his features making the fire inside her burn even more.

“You won’t regret it, sweetheart,”

Amelia woke up in a gray, unknown room, head aching in the most terrible way and her mouth dry. She was confused, laying on her side as she looked around, trying to figure out just where she was.

It looked like she was in a hotel - the decorative plants and paintings being too basic for a normal house -, and definitely not her apartment. She was eager to find her phone and see where she was located, but huffed when she discovered her purse was on the other side of the room, too far away to reach.

Amelia laid back down, sighing as she tried to relax her tense muscles. She was uncharacteristically not worried about the fact that she had slept in a foreign hotel room after a night out, and she wasn’t too scared to take her time, either - it was a Saturday, after all.

She seemed to feel the weight of an arm around her waist just then, as if her body had been numb the entire time. A sudden wave of flashbacks hit her like a truck as she shuffled out of the bed, her awakening being rougher than she had expected.

She had slept with the stranger.

Amelia had slept with the cocky asshole from the club, and she was standing in front of his sleeping frame in just a pair of panties and a way-too-big shirt that certainly didn’t belong to her.

In a state of shock, she stumbled towards the window, parting the curtains to reveal a cloudy Times Square. She realized in less than a minute that she was inside the Kimpton Muse, the five-star hotel she could only dream about.

“Fucking hell,”

The sudden voice made her jump, spinning around quickly to see the stranger - well, Elias - stretching under the warm comforter.

“What the fuck did we do-” Amelia mumbled, a mix of exasperation and panic coating her words as one of her hands ran through her messy hair.

Her own voice seemed to scare Elias, his eyes jumping towards her as a satisfied smile painted his lips. “Well, good morning, sweetheart,” he murmured, sitting up on the bed and letting the duvet fall away from him, revealing his naked chest.

Amelia groaned at the sight, his toned body bringing back another set of flashbacks as she remembered his hands on her body, his lips on her neck. “Didn’t think you’d still be here,” Elias continued.

“Didn’t even know I was here,” Amelia mumbled back as she searched for anything to put on, in a rush to leave the room. A sudden wave of panic hit her as she remembered they had slept together, that she hadn’t just come back to his place to sleep in his bed. She also registered the ache between her legs just when she ran towards the closest trashcan. “Tell me we used protection,”

“Amelia, relax-”

“Elias, fucking tell me,” the woman hissed his way, a scowl on her face as her stormy eyes focused on his, his cocky demeanor slowly fading.

“We did,” the guitarist admitted, mindlessly pointing towards the en-suite. “You can go check the garbage in there,”

Amelia’s heart slowed down just after his answer, her body slowly moving towards the bathroom and checking, a relieved sigh leaving the lips when she saw a discarded condom inside the trashcan.

“Thank God,” she whispered under her breath, stepping back inside the room to search for her dress. Amelia wanted to leave the hotel - and Elias - behind as quickly as she could. They had made a mistake, and the quicker she could forget about it, the better it would be for everyone.

Elias was left to look at her as she scrambled around the room, running a hand through his messy hair as he held back a chuckle.

“What?” Amelia asked when she caught him staring, her eyebrows furrowing.

“Why are you rushing? Got somewhere to be?”

“As far away from you as possible,” Amelia spat out, discarding the shirt she could only guess was his and not really caring that she was topless. He had seen every part of her anyway, right? She pulled her dress back on, groaning when she struggled with the zipper.

“Why?” Elias asked, throwing the duvet away from his body as he stood up to help her. His hands were gentle as he touched her back, zipping her up before letting his fingertips linger against her skin.

“Because it was a fucking mistake,” she stated quickly, grasping her purse from the couch a few feet away and grabbing her phone, sighing when she realized it was dead. “It was nice meeting you,” she lied, grabbing her heels and keeping them in her hands. “Have a nice life,”

She didn’t leave him time to say goodbye, leaving his hotel room and heading for the elevators as quickly as she could. As she rummaged inside her purse, her fingers caught onto something cold, small.

Amelia’s eyebrows furrowed as she fished for the object, only to find a familiar ring. Elias’ ring. She had to search through her mind to remember when he could have lost it, and her only conclusion was when the two of them had been messily making out inside the Uber, right before getting to his hotel.

A huff automatically left her mouth, her inner self questioning whether she should bring it back to him or just throw it in the trash. The elevator opened, though, interrupting her inner monologue, and she was forced to do her walk of shame in front of the rich patrons of the hotel.

She felt like she truly started breathing again just when she reached Times Square, calling a cab and finally relaxing in its backseat. Amelia had slept with probably the most annoying stranger she had ever met, not only blowing up the promise she had made to herself to never sleep with cocky assholes, but also hating herself for it.

Why the hell did she do that?

All she could remember was how good he was, how earth-shattering the orgasms he gave her were, and how worth it he had made it.

She hated herself for it, but she couldn’t deny the fact that she had enjoyed it. She had enjoyed his chasing, she had enjoyed his attention, and she had enjoyed the sex more than everything.

Amelia needed to forget about him, though, and nothing was going to stop her from doing that. She didn’t need a man like Elias in her life: men like him were a waste of emotions, a waste of time, and she had a life to live.

Yet, when she arrived home and emptied her purse, his ring didn’t go in the trash. She let it sit on her nightstand.

She needed to forget about him, but maybe that task could wait a little longer to be done.

-----

Elias didn’t know what he was doing, if he had to be honest. His mind was elsewhere as he sat on the couch of his hotel, guitar in hand as he strummed an improvised melody. The sounds were entering one ear and leaving from the other, working as background noise.

Chordback’s world tour had ended just a few weeks prior, and he was more than happy to enjoy his stay in New York, one of his favorite places in the world. Sure, it didn’t feel like home, but there was nothing as comforting as the Big Apple’s nightclubs for the guitarist.

He was the life of the party, and New York was the party.

Elias couldn’t understand how he had gotten there, though: on a Saturday night, alone in his room, missing the first ring he had bought himself after signing his contract. He couldn’t understand just why his body was so against going outside, why his mind was agreeing with that decision too.

One thing he was sure of, was the fact that he couldn’t get Amelia out of his head. Images of her naked body appeared in his mind, interrupting his sleep and leaving him hot and bothered in the middle of the night. And when he considered calling an old hookup to take care of the mess he had become? His body would just refuse to collaborate.

It had been one week ever since he had first met her, one painful week. He didn’t know what to do with himself anymore, and all he wished for was to have one more night with her.

Elias had never been one for encores, and he was shocked at his own self for even wanting the same woman that badly more than once. But he did what he had never thought he could do, grabbing his phone from the coffee table and dialing Chordback’s personal assistant’s number.

He took a swig of his beer as he listened to the hums of the line, gripping his guitar with force as he waited for Deborah to pick up. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hey, man,” The voice he heard, though, didn’t belong to Deborah. Matthew had answered the phone, words slightly slurred as Elias heard some munching coming from his bandmate’s line. “What’s up?”

“Chucky,” the guitarist chuckled breathily, running a hand through his hair as he rested his neck on the back of the couch. “Is Debby there? I need to ask her something,”

“Oh, uh- yeah, we were just making muffins,” Matthew mumbled. “Babe, Elias needs to talk to you- I’ll see you soon, man,”

“Yeah,” Elias mumbled, listening to the shuffling from the other line until the assistant’s voice ringed through his ears.

“Elias? You doing okay?”

“Yeah, no, I’m doing just fine,” the guitarist admitted. “I just need a favor,”

Deborah hummed, probably sitting down, as Elias blew out a sigh. “You didn’t just get someone pregnant, did you?”

“No, no!” Elias squeaked, making the woman laugh gently.

“Then what is it?”

A sudden wave of nerves hit the guitarist at that moment, his confidence long gone as he asked himself just what he was supposed to say. ‘I met a girl and I can’t get her out of my mind’ was definitely not something he would normally say. That wasn’t him.

The words came out before he could even stop them, eyes shutting close as soon as he finished his sentence. “I slept with a girl last week and she has my ring,” as if that was all he needed from Amelia.

“That ring?” Deborah’s voice grew more tender as she realized what he was talking about. The ring had a meaning deeper than one could expect, and that was why Elias couldn’t exactly live without it. “She stole that ring?”

“N-”

“Give me her name,” Deborah stated, voice serious. Elias kept silent for a second as he internally cursed himself out for being that stupid. Amelia hadn’t stolen the ring: he had been dumb enough to play with it while being drunk, and it fell inside her purse. “Elias, give me her name,”

He just wanted to talk to her.

“Amelia,” he mumbled, chest filling with regret. “I don’t have her last name, but I know she lives in New York,”

“Alright,” Deborah pressed, voice harsh. “She will hear from me,”

“Debby, I’ll handle it,” Elias interrupted her mumbling, selfishly using the mess he had created to reach his goal: talking to her again. “I just need her number,”

The woman on the other line stayed in silence for a second. “I’ll start my research right now,”

The call was ended quickly from her, leaving him in shock and silence in the middle of his room.

What the fuck had he done?

-----

“Hello?”

Amelia’s tone was painted with uncertainty when she answered the call, eyebrows furrowed as she balanced the phone between her ear and shoulder.

“Hi, this is Deborah Miller, personal assistant of the band Chordback. Amelia?”

“Uh- yes, that’s me,” Amelia mumbled, entering the back of the haircare store she owned to hear the woman on the other side of the call better.

“I’m calling regarding your encounter with Elias Lindholm, last Friday night,” the woman stated, making Amelia’s eyes close shut. Oh, God. She had fucked up. “I was notified by him that his ring went missing, and that you could be the one who stole it,”

Amelia stayed in silence for a second. She most certainly didn’t steal the ring.

“Stole it?!” Amelia almost yelled. “Ma’am, I don’t know what you’ve been told, but him losing his ring in my purse certainly isn’t stealing from my side,”

There was a moment of silence from the woman, Amelia’s hand resting against her forehead as she thought about the situation she had found herself in. All because of that damn stranger at the club. “I’ve given Mr. Lindholm your number so you could sort things out, but we won’t be afraid to take legal actions if the ring won’t be given back,”

Amelia was given no time to respond, the call being abruptly stopped right after the unknown woman finished speaking. She was confused to say the least, but the rage inside her made her body burn.

Elias literally wanted to sue her for carelessly losing his own ring, how was that her fault?

The bell of the store sounded just as Amelia’s phone vibrated in her hand, a text from another unknown user making her screen light up.

“I’ll be with you in a second!” She yelled at the customer, unlocking her phone to read the text.

Unknown: Hey, was wondering if we could meet up so I can get back my ring? x - Elias

Amelia rolled her eyes, face taking a look of disgust as she answered his text.

Tomorrow, five p.m. sharp at Upper West Side Central Park.

If Elias thought he was going to see her again after that, he was wrong.

Amelia was enraged as she sat near a tree, the cup of coffee in her hand long forgotten as her other palm held a ziplock bag. The ring was secured in there, ready to be given back to its original owner.

After the call, all she wanted to do was to give the ring back to Elias, and get back to her life - her life without the trouble that the stranger had brought as soon as they had met.

She had been threatened to be sued by his personal assistant - why the hell he had an assistant in the first place, she didn’t know -, so how was she supposed to believe he was someone to trust?

“Hey,”

The voice that snapped Amelia out of her trance was more than familiar to her, the scowl on her face not fading as she looked up at the man. She stood from the bench, keeping the distance from Elias as she threw the bag his way.

“Now, get out of my way,” she spat, ignoring the way his smile faded. “And for good, this time,”

She turned on her heels, starting to walk away from the man she had grown to hate. She had a life, places to be, and as she had first thought, Elias wasn’t worth her time. “Wait- Amelia, what the fuck happened?”

He grasped her arm, stopping her in her tracks and making her jaw clench. “You’re really asking me that, Elias? After sending your assistant my way to threaten me?! Really?!”

Elias seemed confused as he let her words sink in, eyebrows furrowing. “Wait, what?”

“Oh, now you’re acting confused,” Amelia pressed, a look of disgust painting her features as she looked in his eyes. “I stole your ring?! Really?!”

Her words started to make sense just then, Elias’ eyes shutting as he realized what Deborah had done. She didn’t listen to him. “Listen, Amelia, I told Deborah I’d handle it, she didn’t listen,” his words didn’t seem to make a difference, though. Amelia was still furious, disbelief hiding behind her orbs. “I know you didn’t steal the ring, I don’t even know why Deborah thought you did,”

“You blew your last chance, Elias,” Amelia said, interrupting his monologue. “There was a reason why I was trying to stay away from you. You’re trouble,”

Her words hit the guitarist like a truck, his heart sinking to his stomach as he watched her leave without a single ‘goodbye’. As he stood in the middle of the park like a fool, he was left to his own thoughts.

She was right, was all he could think. He had been trouble ever since he had been a baby, so he wasn’t even blaming her for parting ways. He had brought chaos in her life, and she didn’t deserve it.

Elias blew his last chance, and there was nothing he could do about it. All he could do was to see if the universe would bring them back together.

But he didn’t have much hope left in him.

-----

Elias had never been a hopeful person. He had been stubborn his entire life, but not hopeful, and not patient either. He wasn’t one to hope and wait for the universe to send a signal his way, he preferred to find the signal as quickly as possible, on his own.

With Amelia, though, he had seemed to quiet down. He knew he had no more chances with her, and he wasn’t going to make himself hate her even more. He was going to be patient, he was going to be hopeful: everything his mother had always wished he could have been as a kid.

The Big Apple was as loud as it always was, the music from distant clubs sending shivers down his spine. Elias needed to move on, and getting back in the party scene was the best option for him to succeed.

The bouncer in front of the club took one look at him, not even checking his ID before letting him inside, the blue lights feeling like home as he entered the packed space. Everything felt familiar as he pushed towards the bar, trying to get one drink in before starting to bring back the real Elias, the one that didn’t let a random girl stop him from living his life.

“Rum and coke,”

It felt like a déjà vu as he ordered his drink, smiling at the bartender before letting his eyes roam around the crowd of people dancing. He needed to forget about Amelia, and that’s what he was going to do.

As he got handed the drink, he kept his eyes on the scene, blocking out every thought. He needed to have alcohol in him before the night could start. The liquid went down his throat quicker than he had expected, his glass hitting the counter before he could join the mass of bodies in the middle of the room.

He let his body get used to the beat, the music so loud he feared for his hearing. But it was what he wanted, what he had missed. He wanted to forget about Amelia, forget about her stupid red lipstick, and her stupidly perfect curves.

Elias had turned into a man he didn’t know after meeting her, and he needed to get back to who he originally was. He wasn’t going to let a woman he had met once turn him into a man he didn’t know.

So, he danced. He danced with a pretty stranger that got attached to his hip a few moments after he had joined the crowd on the dance floor. He offered her a drink, fantasized about her luscious red lips on his body, and then realized just who he was thinking about.

In his head, who was kissing his body wasn’t the blonde grinding against him. It was Amelia. He grabbed himself a shot, and another, sequentially ordering heavier drinks with every passing hour. He knew coping with alcohol was never going to be a good decision, but he couldn’t care less.

By the time the clock hit one in the morning, he was drunkenly kissing the blonde from the dance floor, screwing the idea of making his hookup sign an NDA. He hadn’t made Amelia sign one, either, so why was he supposed to bother?

The woman was in his bed naked, ready for him, and by the time he was on top of her, Amelia had left his mind. As he kissed down her body, he thought that Amelia had become part of his past.

But as he fucked the blonde, Amelia was all he thought about.

Elias woke up in distress, sharply inhaling air as he sat up on his bed, pushing the burning hot covers away from his heated body. The hotel room was still dark and, as he looked to his left, his heart started beating out of his chest, his breath shortening.

The blonde from the club was sleeping next to him, cuddled on her side with her hair sprawled over the pillow. She was peaceful next to him, too peaceful for Elias’ liking as he left the bed, throwing a shirt on.

The foreign feeling inside his body made him rush out of the room to clear his mind, the need to breathe in some fresh air so desperate he took the stairs. Waking up next to a stranger had never been a problem for him, sometimes it even led to morning sex, if he was lucky. He had never had a small panic attack over a hookup spending the night.

So, why did he leave the room?

As he nodded his head towards the night staff of the hotel and headed towards the doors, he checked his phone. It was well past three, the moon still high up in the sky as he found himself in the middle of Times Square.

The city was still loud even at that hour, with cars driving past him and people quietly talking. He was grateful to be in such a lively city, he couldn’t live in his own silence anymore.

Elias let his body move with no destination, walking around the streets with an empty mind as he hoped to understand what went down just a few minutes prior. Maybe he felt trapped, when he woke up next to the stranger; or maybe, it was just the panic of waking up next to someone he didn’t know.

Either ways, he couldn’t believe that had happened to him after years of letting himself fall into hookup culture. He couldn’t help himself but wonder if that was how Amelia had felt like when she had woken up next to him. At least, he hoped she didn’t, the feeling being truly overwhelming.

Elias’ legs stopped him in front of a Chinese restaurant, its dim lights on even at three in the morning. It was lightly populated inside, but a familiar mass of hair was what really caught his attention.

There was no red lipstick, no tight dress, but he could recognize that woman out of the rest of the population in the blink of an eye. Amelia was sitting right behind the glass wall, eating dumplings mindlessly as she scrolled through her phone.

Elias’ body filled with jitters as he froze. There was a moment where he asked himself if it would have been a good idea to join her inside, her disgusted words from that day in the park playing in his head like a broken record. You blew your last chance, Elias.

He pushed the overthinking aside, though, and entered the small shop. He ended up at the register in silence, ordering himself some noodles even if he wasn’t hungry. His eyes couldn’t leave Amelia’s frame as he waited for his food to be done, and by the time he had his bowl in hand, his nerves were ready to knock him out.

He dragged himself towards her lonely table, sitting right in front of her. “Hi,” was all he said, heart skipping a beat when her eyes met his.

He was relieved to see that her face didn’t take a look of disgust, rather displaying shock as she dropped her chopsticks. “Elias,” she mumbled, scratching her neck as she let her phone rest on the table. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh- woke up hungry,” he mumbled, knowing just how big of a liar he had become in the last two minutes. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing okay,” Amelia said, plopping a dumpling in her mouth as she rested her chin on her palm. “You?”

“I’m fine,” he had just had a panic attack over a random girl, he wasn’t fine. Silence built up between them as they ate, the sounds of the kitchen behind them filling the air. The tension was still thick, but Elias felt relatively better for talking to her, it had been what he had hoped for for weeks.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, her eyes snapping from her food to his face. “For everything,”

Amelia stayed in silence, eyes layering with a cold look as she remembered what he had done. “I know a stupid apology won’t fix things, but I just wish we could try to make things work. Even just as friends,”

Elias didn’t know how to be just friends with someone, so why the hell was he blurting things out like that?

Amelia gave him a strange look, a look he couldn’t decipher, but eventually popped another dumpling in her mouth. “I don’t trust you, Elias,” she mumbled, mouth full. “Especially after that shitshow with the ring,”

“I know, and that was my mistake,” Elias pointed out, running a hand through his hair. “But I’ll do anything to have you back, I promise,”

Amelia chuckled breathily, shaking her head as she looked down. There was a moment of thinking - probably wondering whether it was a good idea to give him one last chance - before she talked. “You need to keep your hands off of me, drunk or not,”

Elias nodded, looking at her as she kept talking. “I don’t need to make another mistake like that,”

“Alright,” the man mumbled. “That’s all?”

“And don’t bring trouble in my life again,” Amelia added, pointing a finger his way. “You do that one more time and we’re done,”

Elias only nodded, letting his light orbs find hers as he bit his lip. “I won’t fuck up, this time,”

“I really hope you won’t,”

-----

Amelia didn’t know why she let herself cave in. She had promised herself to stay away from Elias and the mess that was his life, but his beaten up face at the restaurant was more than pitying. She didn’t know if he realized, but the bags under his eyes didn’t look too well, and neither did his hollowed cheeks.

Regret had washed over her when his feeling spilled through his words, and as she laid on her bed in the darkness of her room, she felt pity.

Had she been too harsh on him? The deal with his ring had clearly been a misunderstanding, so her holding grudges just seemed petty, from her point of view.

But she also couldn’t help but ask herself if she had made the right decision by taking him back, even as friends. He was a dangerous game, and she stubbornly kept going back to play, just to eventually get hurt.

Elias was impossible to figure out, but something inside her soul was pushing her to him, pushing her to understand him and his life. She wanted to see what he really was about, who he could be. As much as Amelia tried to hold back, she couldn’t help the curiosity that filled her body whenever she thought about the mysterious man.

Amelia’s phone vibrated from her side, screen being the only source of light inside the pitch black room. She took a moment to breathe out a sigh before letting her eyes focus on the device, the name on the screen making her heart skip a beat.

Talk about the devil, she thought.

Elias had just sent her a text, and she despised her heart for letting his minimal attention get to her. She was better than that.

Elias: It was nice seeing you again yesterday. Going to a club tmrw, wanna join? x

Amelia sighed again. Was she ready to get back into that? Into the life of the party that was Elias Lindholm?

Her brain was asking her to just stay home, avoid the darkness of the New York clubs and the buzz of the alcohol; but her heart was opposing: it wanted her to see Elias.

So, she gave in another time, telling herself it was going to be the last one before sending him back a small text of approval. She didn’t know whether she would regret it or not, but she knew she was going to have the time of her life.

At least, she hoped so.

“Dry martini.”

“Still don’t get how you can drink that shit,” Elias yelled in her ear right after Amelia ordered her drink. “Tastes like pure shit,”

“It’s classy,” Amelia explained with a smirk, thanking the bartender with a raise of her eyebrows before letting the alcohol burn her mouth.

Elias only chuckled, taking a sip of his own rum and coke, as he let his eyes travel over Amelia’s body. She cleaned up well in one of her tight dresses, her signature red lipstick making his cock stir inside his pants.

The night had started well, with them meeting in front of the club before joining the crowd inside. Elias had kept his hands to himself, pushed intrusive thoughts away, and let the night roll just like how he had expected it to do.

After two rounds of dancing and a second drink, his views had very much changed. Under the influence of the alcohol, all he could think about was Amelia and how stupidly hot she looked. In some ways, keeping his promise seemed more difficult than he had expected it to be.

“Elias? You still there?” Amelia waved a hand in front of his eyes, snapping him out of his trance. The guitarist laughed, nodding his head before letting his eyes focus on the scenery surrounding them.

A familiar face struck out to him in the middle of the crowd, and it was a matter of seconds before the man he had recognized walked closer to where Elias and Amelia stood.

Jake Bates was as tall as Elias remembered him to be, his beard neatly trimmed surrounding the smile that painted his face. He was intimidating, just like back in the days, and Elias felt more than happy to see his old friend again.

“Hey, man! Long time, no see!” The guitarist yelled over the music, sharing a hug with the tallest man Amelia had probably seen. “What are you doing here?”

“Just enjoying a night at the club,” Jake admitted. “Congrats on the new album, by the way,”

Elias chuckled, thanking him softly as he remembered about Amelia just then, letting his hand brush against her lower back. “Jake, this is Amelia,” the guitarist explained. “Amelia, this is my friend Jake. We used to play in the same band back in High School,”

Amelia’s eyes widened, her hand sticking out to shake Jake’s as she introduced herself. There was a moment before she looked up at Elias, the realization of what he had said hitting her. “You used to play?”

“I, uh- I still do,” Elias admitted, scratching the back of his head. “I’m the guitarist of a rock band, right now,”

“That’s cool,” Amelia mumbled, body filled with amazement at the new discovery. “And you, Jake? You still play, too?”

“Oh, no,” the man chuckled. “I’m a personal trainer, now,”

“That’s great, man,” Elias said, smiling his way before another woman interrupted the conversation.

“Babe, I’m heading out to smoke, I’ll be back in a sec,” she yelled in Jake’s direction, smiling gingerly at Amelia and Elias.

“I’m coming with you, just lemme say goodbye,”

Jake turned around to face the old friend and the new acquaintance, wishing them a good night before leaving them on their own at the bar in silence. The music was still loud as they finished their drinks, both in their own heads.

Amelia thought she was stupid. She had just become friends with Elias, and still didn’t know anything about him. Hell, she didn’t even know if being a guitarist was a job or a hobby, for him. How could she maintain a friendship with him if she was in the dark about his life?

“So… you play?” Amelia asked with her last ounce of courage, looking up at Elias’ light eyes as she let herself focus on him.

“Electric guitar, yeah,” he mumbled, tipping his head back to finish his drink. “I just recently finished a world tour,”

“Woah,” the woman muttered, a hint of amazement in her voice as the bullet points inside her head started to make sense: he had a personal assistant, he had no trouble partying every night, he stayed at one of the most expensive hotels in New York. Elias could be considered the life of the party, but Amelia realized he was just living the life of a rock star.

“You never told me what you do,” Elias changed the topic, making Amelia become the center of the conversation. “I’ve just seen you around at night,”

Amelia chuckled, calling the bartender over for a couple of shots. “I own a haircare shop, so we sell products for any kind of hair,” she stated, pushing three shot glasses Elias’ way. “Straight, wavy, curly, braids, wigs,”

Elias hummed, smiling her way as he downed his first shot, waiting for her to follow along. The tequila was burning his throat, but the sweet sight of Amelia’s features was enough to make him feel numb.

She was slowly letting lose thanks to the alcohol, becoming the carefree woman Elias had met on their first encounter, and there was nothing in the world that could stop his heart from beating as quickly as it did.

Amelia threw her head back, finishing her last shots just to frown lightly. The music suddenly changed, a squeal leaving the woman’s lips as soon as the darker melody entered her ears. “I fucking love this song!” She yelled. “I’m going dancing,”

Elias only chuckled, watching her hips sway as she left his side and joined the crowd on the dance floor. She let the music embrace her softly, her body moving to the beat as she lightly sang. The red lights of the club illuminated her face in the best way, putting her features on display as Elias stared at her, as if she was the only woman in the world.

It became painfully hard to just watch, Elias’ body trembling with need. He needed to be close to her, to feel her, to touch her. Flashbacks of their night together appeared in his mind, sending him in a frenzy as he let the autopilot take over.

He downed his last shot, leaving the countertop to reach the dance floor. The music was easy to follow as he snuck past people to reach Amelia. Her dark dress was everything he could focus on, and when he was able to let his hands rest on her waist, it felt like the whole world stopped.

It felt like they were alone in the middle of the dance floor, dancing the tension away, Amelia’s body so close to his he could barely breathe. Every thought about the promise he had made seemed to disappear from his mind, all he could think about being Amelia and her body under his. He couldn’t help his needs anymore, and she didn’t seem to mind his attention.

“Fuck,” he whispered in her ear, breathing ragged as he pulled her closer. “Amelia, what are you doing to me?”

She laughed giddily, letting her arms wrap around his neck as her back hit his chest. The need to lean down and press a kiss to her neck was burning Elias alive, but Amelia let all the sexual tension fade when she turned around and kissed him with everything she had.

Her lips were as hungry as Elias remembered them to be, and as he let his palms slide against the curve of her ass, he couldn’t help the feeling of déjà vu. “Bring me home, Elias,” she whispered seductively in his ear, letting her palms slide down his chest.

Realization seemed to hit him just then: the promise, his last chance. “Amelia-”

“Please, I want this, Elias,” she muttered, biting on her lip. She didn’t know what - or who - was possessing her body, but she knew she would regret it in the morning. Her body needed him, though, and she wasn’t thinking straight anymore. “I can’t keep myself away from you,”

Her consent was all he needed to tug her away from the scene, getting inside the first taxi leading to his hotel. With burning hands and heated bodies, they struggled to make their way inside his room. Drunk giggles were leaving their lips as Elias opened his door, locking it behind the two of them before he could lay Amelia on his bed, kissing her lips like he wanted to rock her world.

With her body sat right on the edge of the mattress, Elias fell to his knees, letting his lips find the crook of her neck, slowly moving to her chest. His kisses reached her breasts, fingers eagerly ripping her dress apart.

“Elias! I fucking loved this dress!” She whined, a low moan leaving her lips when his mouth found one of her nipples, interrupting her train of thoughts.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he muttered, out of breath. “Fuck, I’ll buy you the whole store,”

His hands sneakily found her underwear, pushing it down her legs as he kissed her stomach, spreading her thighs to take a good look at her center. She was glistening - ready for him -, and every ounce of responsibility in Elias’ mind seemed to disappear.

He blew cold air on her clit, loving the whine that left her lips at the denied pleasure. Elias chuckled darkly, letting his head dip down until his lips closed around Amelia’s clit. She breathed out a sigh, fingers carding through his messy curls as all the tension left her body.

The alcohol had gotten to her head, but she was sincere when she admitted to herself that she was more than conscious at that moment. His mouth on her heat was making her see stars, and all she could do was moan.

“Elias-” Amelia breathed out, the ghost of his fingers over her entrance making her strangle a scream.

The man only smirked, letting his eyes meet hers as he gave her bundle of nerves another suck, her moans becoming music to his ears. Eating her out felt like paradise, and all Elias was missing was to see her cum.

His goal was to have her at his mercy, totally helpless as she orgasmed around his fingers. All he wanted was to feel her, touch her, call her his own. He shrugged the last thought off as he inserted a finger in her wetness, her moan making his cock stir.

“Elias, I can’t-”

“Cum for me, princess,” he whispered against her pussy. “Let go,”

Amelia was able to take in a shaky breath before the most powerful orgasm she had ever felt had her body shaking. Her walls squeezed around Elias’ fingers as his mouth lapped up her juices, a proud smirk on his lips when he looked up at her.

Amelia eagerly cupped his cheeks, pulling him close and kissing him hungrily. She moaned at the taste of herself on his lips, her hands traveling south to strip Elias of his pants. She needed to feel him close, to feel him inside her again.

“This is the last time, Elias,” she whispered between kisses, knowing damn well she was lying to herself. “This is the last time,”

“Fucking hell-” Amelia hissed, her hand rubbing against her aching forehead. Rays of sunlight entered the hotel room, making her tired eyes squint. She breathed out a sigh, turning on her back as her thumb rubbed the skin of Elias’ arm on her waist.

As much as she hated herself for spending the night again, she couldn’t hold herself back from taking a moment to relax next to the guitarist, the events of the previous nights replaying inside her head.

The panic she had felt the first time she’d slept with Elias was nonexistent, at that moment. She didn’t feel the need to run away, to hide from him and hope to never see him again. She wanted to enjoy his closeness one last time, and she didn’t care it might make her look smitten.

Her heart skipped a beat when she looked to her side, noticing Elias was still asleep on his stomach, lips pulled in an involuntary pout. The thought of waking up next to him every morning found its way inside her brain, her chest filling with warmth as she let herself daydream. Because it was going to be just a daydream.

Amelia’s free hand tangled itself in his hair, softly massaging his scalp as a sense of peace made her blow out a sigh. Her eyes fell on the nearest clock just when Elias started to stir, a groan leaving his lips.

“Keep doing that,” he mumbled groggily, referring to Amelia’s motions on his scalp.

“Good morning to you, too,” Amelia giggled, fondly looking down at him, heart speeding up. His light eyes held tiredness as he looked at her, but she thought the look suited him, in some way.

“What time is it?”

“A little past nine,” she whispered, remembering a shipment of products was supposed to arrive by ten, the need to open the shop making her sigh. She wished she could spend the entire day in bed with Elias, her own thought leaving her quite shocked. How did she go from being cold, heartless towards the man sleeping next to her, to wishing to spend the day with him in the span of one night? She truly didn’t know if there was something wrong with her.

“Just in time for breakfast,” Elias muttered, sitting up against the bed frame and pulling Amelia closer to his body.

“I, uh- I’ve got to go open the store,” she mumbled. “It’s just Tuesday, you know,”

“Right,” Elias sighed, watching her as she awkwardly rolled out of bed. She started to search for her dress, at least until the guitarist pushed himself out of the bed too, opening the dresser and pushing some clothes her way. “Wear these, I can’t let you work in that dress,”

“Thank you,” Amelia said, voice a whisper as she let her eyes meet his. Tension filled the distance between them as Amelia pulled the large sweats and shirt over her body, thankful for the comfort they brought to her. Wearing the dress to work would have been an uncomfortable experience - especially if paired with a migraine -, and she was thankful Elias thought about it before she could.

Meanwhile, the guitarist was inside the en-suite, brushing his teeth as his eyes focused on her mirror reflection. “I owe you breakfast,” he slurred through the mouthful of toothpaste, spitting it out just after finishing his sentence. “Twice,”

“We’ll find a day to do that,” Amelia mumbled, joining him in front of the mirror to figure her hair out. She pulled it in a quick ponytail, walking back inside the main room to grab her purse and the rest of her belongings. “I just really have to go now,”

Elias nodded his head, joining her just to let his hands cup her cheeks, pulling her close for a gentle kiss. “Text when you get there,” he whispered, pulling away to kiss her forehead.

Amelia’s heart was ready to give out on her after his actions, her body automatically giving him a shaky nod before she headed towards the door, saying a weak ‘goodbye’. As she left the hotel, all she could think about was the way the morning had played out, how gentle Elias had been.

A little voice inside her head told her she could get used to it, but she shrugged it off. Loving a man like Elias unconditionally would lead to trouble, and she knew it. But if the moments she had just lived were part of what loving him would be like, then all she wanted was to be his.

To be his, unconditionally.

-----

Amelia didn’t expect it to go that far. She expected it to happen two times - both drunk and in need of release -, but she didn’t expect Elias to be that addicting. His voice, his touch, his kisses: they had all become something she couldn’t live without.

She found herself thinking about him at work, under the shower, right before bed, and she couldn’t even think of a life without him. To think she hated him, just a few months prior.

Amelia found herself accustomed to his hotel bed, spending more nights there than on her own, and Elias wasn’t one to push her away. She didn’t think he could. The way she looked at him - the same way he looked at her - was not usually how people looked at their one-night-stands - or friends-with-benefits, if you wanted to call it that.

To say she was confused was an understatement. The feelings inside her chest were something she hadn’t experienced before. They were called love, said an article online, and she had despised the word from the moment she had first seen it.

Amelia wasn’t ready to love Elias. Heck, she wasn’t ready to love, at all.

But when he looked at her, had sex with her, talked to her, all she could think about was love. As she headed towards the Kimpton Muse, under the streetlights and the New York moon, she wondered whether it was a good idea or not to be playing such a dangerous game. Opening herself up for him, letting him see all of her fragile parts, becoming vulnerable - it wasn’t something she wanted to do.

All the nights - and the morning after their second hookup especially - they had spent together had just been multiple mistakes. So, she entered the hotel with a task: making it clear that she wanted nothing to happen.

Amelia waved at the cute clerk down the hall, whose smile reached his eyes as he watched her pass by, before she headed towards the elevators. She didn’t exactly know why she was that nervous, but as she walked towards Elias’ room, she couldn’t help her hands from shaking.

There were slight sounds coming from his room, but she shrugged them off. When she reached his door, the sounds became more clear, more loud. They sounded like whimpers, grumbles of his voice occasionally reaching Amelia’s ears too.

She knocked. No response. She knocked a second time, waiting for anything to happen. Just when she was about to knock a third time, the door opened, revealing a disheveled Elias.

His pupils were dilated - their darkness replacing the light color of his orbs -, his lips were swollen, red, hair a knotty mess on top of his head. He gave her a once-over, the smirk Amelia knew so well painting his lips.

“Hey,” just his first waft of breath was enough to make her face scrunch. He smelled like pure alcohol, and even with one word she could tell he was slurring.

“Are you drunk?” Amelia asked with a whisper, looking around the hallway to see if anyone was around. She didn’t want the other rich patrons to see him in that state. Elias only laughed, nodding slightly.

“I also had some weed, such a shame you weren’t there to try it with me,” he slurred.

“Let’s get you back inside,” Amelia sighed, trying to push the door open just to be stopped by a loud yell.

“No!” Elias said, his own loud voice making him flinch. “No, don’t come in. Please, princess,”

His words had Amelia’s brows furrowing. She had been in his room countless times, why was he holding her back from entering? She had seen the hotel room in its messiest state, what was he worrying about?

“Elias, I can’t have people seeing you like this,” Amelia whispered, using just a small amount of force to let herself walk in. He was weaker than she had imagined him to be, letting her hands cup his cheeks to examine him quickly.

“Took you long, tiger,”

The voice was foreign in Amelia’s ears, the seductive tone sending shivers down her spine. She looked to her left, eyes falling on the messy king-sized bed where a much-sober girl was kneeling, half-naked.

The way Amelia’s heart fell to her stomach had her knees almost giving up on her. She gave the woman a quick look before glancing back at Elias, voice small. “I’ll, uh- I’ll leave you to that,”

“Amelia-”

“No, get back, Elias,” she whispered, the anger inside her staying at bay just because he was under the influence, basically unconscious. “I don’t- I don’t have time for this. Goodbye,”

Amelia was out of his room as quickly as she had entered, heart pounding. She found him with another girl. She walked inside the elevator in shock, eyes glazing with a set of tears she didn’t want to spill.

He didn’t deserve her tears, her attention even less.

That’s what she meant when she thought that loving him was going to be a mistake. At one point, she knew one of them would fuck up, break the other person’s heart, and then leave. That’s what she had foreseen, and that’s what had happened.

She had caught him with someone else and, even if they weren’t in a relationship, it hurt. Amelia didn’t know if what she was feeling for Elias was really love, but her reaction to heartbreak was enough to answer all her questions.

Throughout her month of being Elias’ friend-with-benefits, Amelia had fallen in love with him. She was admitting it.

One lone tear slid down her cheek just as the elevator’s doors opened, revealing the quite empty hall of the hotel. Amelia wiped her skin, taking a deep breath before starting to make her way out. A familiar voice caught her before she could leave, the dark, slicked-back hair she had grown to recognize appearing in front of her.

“Hi, Amelia,” Andrew, the clerk she had waved to just a few minutes prior - and also had talked to whenever she was at the hotel, waiting for a cab to get back home -, said. “How are you doing?”

“I’ve been better,” she chuckled sadly, running a hand through her hair. “What’s up, Andrew? I’m in kind of a rush,”

Andrew took a second to look at her, clearing his throat. “I was wondering if you were free tomorrow? There’s this new place in the Upper West Side, and I thought we could go there together?”

The sudden invite had Amelia shocked for a quick second, her eyes widening slightly before she could nod her head. She was going on a date. With someone that wasn’t Elias. “Uh- yes! Sure!”

Andrew smiled, it reached his eyes. He pushed a stray hair out of her face before slipping her his number, the smile still on his face. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Text me,”

He left Amelia on her own in the middle of the hall to get back to work, her heart hammering against her rib cage. She was going on a date with someone she genuinely liked, and it wasn’t even out of spite.

The events with Elias were quick to leave her mind as she thought about Andrew and how he had asked her out. Elias hadn’t even done that. She breathed out a sigh as she left the Kimpton Muse, heading back home for the night.

After what happened with Elias, all she needed was to move on. And Andrew was just the right person to do that with.

Amelia hadn’t been on a date in years. The last time she had been wined-and-dined had been more than a year prior to her date with Andrew, and it felt good to be back in the dating scene.

The restaurant Andrew had brought her to was the right amount of fancy, with finely dressed waiters and good food she would remember for a lifetime. The prices were affordable, and the wine was divine. It was the perfect place for a date, and the guy in front of her was the perfect date.

He had picked her up, helped her sit down at their table, and Amelia was pretty sure he was going to pay for her dinner. And he was listening to her, genuinely interested in what she was talking about, something Elias rarely did. He wasn’t one for talking.

Amelia shook her head at her brain’s mention of Elias, giving herself a mental slap for even thinking about him. She had a wonderful man in front of her, and there should have been no space for Elias during the date.

“I mean, the hotel is pretty crazy, right now,” Andrew kept talking, playing with the edge of his napkin as he did so. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my job, but there has been trouble with the employees and I’ve basically been reassigned,”

“Reassigned?” Amelia asked with a frown, tone coating with curiosity.

“I’m still at the check-in station, but we’ve lost the bartender due to an argument with our boss; so now I’m a bartender, I guess?”

Amelia giggled, shaking her head at the craziness of the situation. “So now you have to learn all those complicated drinks?”

“Yes,” Andrew groaned, burying his face in his hands before peeking at her through the gap between his fingers. “And all the rich entrepreneurs always ask for the most intricate shit. Like, man, I’m from the Bronx. I don’t even know where to begin with that Upper East Side bullshit,”

His last sentence made Amelia laugh, louder than she had laughed in what felt like ages. She was having fun, and the night felt young. Her phone - which had been long forgotten inside her clutch for the entirety of the evening - seemed to snap back to reality with its loud ringtone, Amelia’s eyebrows furrowing.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, heart skipping a beat when Andrew waved off her apology. He let his chin rest on the palm of his hand as he admired her, watching attentively the way her face scrunched into a frown after reading the name on the screen.

Elias.

Amelia didn’t know whether answering was the right choice to do. Her heart - as gentle as it had always been -, begged her to swipe right, ask why he was calling. Her brain, though, reminded her she was in the middle of a date, with a guy that actually cared. So she swiped left, her phone became silent again, and she put it back in her clutch.

Amelia couldn’t even open her mouth to restart the conversation before the ringtone bothered her and the rest of the restaurant-goers a second time. Another string of apologies left her mouth as he scrambled for her phone.

“You should probably take it,” Andrew mumbled, pointing towards the device with a tight-lipped smile.

Amelia nodded, that time swiping right and pressing the phone to her ear. “What do you want?” She asked, words quick, voice cold.

“To apologize, I don’t know what happened to me last night,” Elias stated, sounding more than tired. “And I owe you an explanation,”

“I don’t need an explanation,” the woman stated. “I have to go, I’m busy, right now,”

“Too busy for me? Why don’t you come over?” The cocky tone of his voice made Amelia roll her eyes. “I can apologize to you and then we can make up the adult way,”

Amelia’s nostrils flared as anger filled her system, a fist balling under the table. “I don’t have time for you,”

“Where are you? I can send a car to pick you up,”

“I’m on a date, Elias,” Amelia spat out, voice coated with anger. “And I’d very appreciate if you’d stop calling me, right now,”

There was silence on his end, Amelia breathing heavily after her small rant. She clenched her jaw, too angry to be faced with his silence. “Goodbye,”

She ended the call, putting her phone on silent before sliding it inside her clutch again, taking a deep breath before looking back up at Andrew. “I’m sorry, let’s just pretend this didn’t happen,”

“An ex calling you up again?” Andrew asked, a smile on his lips.

Elias wasn’t exactly an ex, but Amelia felt like she could consider him so. They had had a friends-with-benefits relationship - that partially leaned into more from her side, apparently -, he had broken her heart, and she was done with him. Too many times had she given him a second chance, he didn’t deserve her anymore.

“Yeah, I guess so,” she answered, taking a sip of her wine. “Back to you, though. You were saying?”

The night went back in full swing, the conversation with Elias long forgotten after a few minutes as Andrew and Amelia went back to their own world. Amelia’s forgotten phone lit up in her purse with a text she would eventually see at the end of the date, a text from Elias.

I really owe you an apology. Tomorrow night, Kimpton Muse.

Elias wasn’t happy. He hadn’t been happy for a while.

The hotel room was as plain as it had always been, but he seemed to realize it just then, while being in a state of numbness. The bags under his eyes were more prominent than he had thought they would be, and his hair had reached a state where it was impossible to fix.

He had closed himself up in his room after the night, and he wasn’t ready to leave it. If anyone of his bandmates had seen him in that state, he wouldn’t have lived another day in peace. He felt delusional, not just because he couldn’t get out of bed to even take a shower, but because he ruined the best relationship he had ever had with someone.

Amelia had become the ray of sunlight in his dark life, she had brought happiness to his depressing days stuck in his hotel room, and she had become his person. It was too bad he couldn’t figure out how to treat her correctly.

It was the way he couldn’t control his own self from being the careless asshole he really was that had pushed her to go on a date with someone else, and he had lost her. He was sure about that.

At eleven, he was lying in his bed in a pair of sweats and a wifebeater. His suitcase was packed, resting beside him on the bedside table was a ticket to Calgary, a ticket to go back home if things with Amelia didn’t fix.

He was tired of staying in a hotel room that didn’t feel like home, he was tired of New York, and he couldn’t live with his embarrassment anymore. He wanted to go back home and build himself a new life. If he was lucky, with Amelia.

Her name brought back memories inside his head, like the day they had spent in bed naked, together; or the time she talked about her family to him. Memories he hoped to relive, maybe more than once.

As much as Elias had hoped to see Amelia one last time, the knock on his door came as a shock. He didn’t think he’d be able to see her one last time, and he most certainly didn’t deserve to even give her an apology, that’s what his mind kept telling him.

He scrambled towards the door, trying to hide the empty beer bottles littering the floor behind the closest curtains. He didn’t want her to see the mess he had become. When he opened the wooden door, the sight of the girl he had grown to love - even if he didn’t show it - made his heart skip a beat.

“Hi,”

“Hi,” Amelia reciprocated the greeting, voice cold.

“Uh- come in,”

As Elias opened the door wider for her, he hoped she couldn’t see just what he had become after the night. Amelia didn’t take a seat on the couch, and neither on the armchair, so he stayed on his feet, too.

Silence filled the air as he watched her arms fold over her chest, her mouth in a thin line. It was clear that she didn’t want to be there, in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” Elias started, biting the insides of his cheek when Amelia’s jaw clenched. “I fucked up. That night was a mistake,”

“Just that night?” Amelia spat out, a dry chuckle leaving her lips. “You think that only that night was a mistake?”

Elias didn’t answer her questions, taking a moment to think of what to say. “I went to a house party and got shitfaced because I couldn’t help it. I- I was confused,”

“Elias, you called me,” Amelia hissed. “You called me when you were drunk in your room, asked me to join you, and then I had to be faced with the reality that I was right all along. Nothing ends well with you,”

The information spilling out of the woman’s mouth was new. He had called her? In his hungover head, she had come over out of the blue, catching him in the middle of something with a girl he didn’t even know the name of. “I called you?”

“You did,” Amelia said. “And I came over to help you, Elias. I came over to take care of you for the night, because I knew you wouldn’t, you never do,”

Her words made his heart clench, regret making his eyes blurry with tears. “I’m sorry,”

“I thought we could have had something,” Amelia whispered. “I really thought we could. I was ready to give you my world, help you become the best version of you,”

“Why would you do that for me?” Elias asked, body numb as he let his back slide against the wall, his body hitting the floor soon after.

“Because you deserve to be loved, too,” Amelia sniffled, a lone tear slipping down her cheek as she looked down at him. “And I loved you. Well, I still do, I guess,”

Elias’ eyes closed as soon as the words left her mouth. Regret, pain, heartache, all wrecked his body into little pieces as he tried to stay calm, the pain in her tone punctuating the truth behind her words.

“But this can’t work out,” she whispered, her own hand wiping her tears away as she took in a shaky breath.

As much as Elias wanted to understand where she was coming from, he didn’t want to see her go. He wasn’t ready to let her leave his life that quickly. He had fucked up, but something in him took over, something that could fix the mess that he had started. “It can, Amelia. We can make it work,”

Her jaw clenched, the heartbreak she was feeling slowly turning into anger. “This is one of the reasons we wouldn’t work, Elias,” she spat out. “You can’t take a no,”

“Come to Calgary with me,” he ignored her words, lifting himself up from the ground to grasp her hands. She pushed him away with a scroll, a look of disgust on her face. “We can start from zero over there, I’m sure we could work out,”

“I have a fucking life, Elias,” Amelia raised her voice, not caring if she looked crazy. “You think I’m going to drop everything for you? After everything you’ve done to me?”

“You could open a store over there, and we could live together in an apartment,”

“Oh. My. God,” she scoffed. “Do you hear yourself? My store is here, Elias. My people are here, and so is the guy I have a chance to date. I’m not going to leave just to make you happy,”

Her words felt like a slap to the man’s face. She didn’t want him, and he didn’t get the second chance he had begged for. He didn’t know why he had turned into such a selfish asshole by the time the conversation had shifted, but he regretted it. There was no way he could fix what he had done, and he knew it. No apology would make her change her mind.

“Amelia-”

“Loving you was a mistake,” she stated, taking a look around the room before heading towards the door. “I was just too dumb to see it,”

Her words seemed to engrave themselves inside Elias’ mind as he watched her leave, ending their conversation, and the relationship they had built as well. Elias was left on his own once more, regret making the tears that had coated his eyes fall down his cheeks.

He didn’t know what happened to him, what had gone through his head when he had proposed to her to leave the world behind and start from zero. Amelia had always been an independent woman, and he knew he had fucked up the moment her nostrils had flared. There was no coming back, though, that time.

So he made himself courage, grabbed his phone and called for a taxi. He looked at the plane ticket from the distance, grabbing it just after a few minutes of thinking before zipping up his suitcase.

Elias used the phone inside the room to order room service. He felt numb as the hums of the line rang through his head, emptying his brain of any thought. The voice of a man snapped him out of his trance, his voice cutting the clerk off. “A dry martini,”

“Loving you was a mistake,” her words still rang through his head as he ended the call, their truth making his heart clench. He was unlovable, and it was all his fault. “I was just too dumb to see it,”

Taglist: @thirstyybitch @bellaguarneri @boqvistsbabe @trashforbarzal @tonguetiedstan @keithseabrook27 @heatherawoowoo @tysonsjosty @besthockeyfics

#elias lindholm #elias lindholm x reader #elias lindholm x oc #elias lindholm imagine #calgary flames #nhl x reader #hockey imagine

54 notes · View notes

the-sole-macgyver · 3 years

Note

Can i request a companions react where Sole has a pet goose that doesn't like them (the companion) and will chase them around but Sole just finds it hilarious? Bonus points if a companion gets treed by the goose

Nice prompt, the games really fun- real geese not so much

Prompt:It’s a lovely morning in the Commonwealth, and Sole has a horrible goose

Excluded companions:None

Note: if there are any characters, ie: faction leaders or let’s say synth!Codsworth that anyone would like to be included please feel free to ask!

Warnings:shenanigans of the fowl kind, swearing, threats of violence, goose-typical violence under cut

Cait:She’s always thought that the Swans..clothing of choice was a bit dainty looking for such a fucking big and nasty behemoth of a super mutant, but after meeting “Morrigan” she’s pretty sure the Swans getup was spot on, because Sole’s bird was also a big nasty bastard that would kill anyone who came near it if it could. She threatens to cook it whenever it trys to chase her and Sole generally has too keep them separated because they're fairly sure Cait will go through with it if given the opportunity. Both Cait and the goose are instantly hostile when they see each other.

Codsworth: He’s known of “Beatrix” since before the bombs fell, and he’s not ashamed to admit he’d wished the bird had went up in flames like the rest of the world around him. Alas; someway, somehow, Beatrix stood before him alongside his beloved sir/ma'am once more: all pristine white feathers and seething rage aimed at the goose his chrome paint still faintly reflected back at it, his thrusters still vaguely emulating hissing, and as the beast known as Beatrix reared back, mouth open and screeching Codsworth once again resigned himself to being pecked and screamed at, while his beloved sir/ma’am laughed, cruelly. Whenever he sees the wretched thing make its way back to Sanctuary he tries to make sure he’s on the other side of the settlement.

Curie:She’d never met a real goose before Sole found her and at this point she kind of wished that she never had met the bird, or at least if she had never taken that blood sample- because apparently geese held grudges for life, and they can live for over 20 years. She had only wanted to help the animal, testing its blood to make sure the radiation wasn't effecting it too badly, but apparently it wanted its blood back and if it couldn’t get it back it would take hers- Sole insisted she was fine, but seeing that thing charge at her was quite intimidating, and so she had no plans on going near it ever again, thank you very much. If she does accidentally cross its path she dashes to the nearest building and locks the door until it leaves.

Deacon: When Sole had told him that he couldn't buy the love of the funny, waddly pre-war bird they called a goose with Sugar Bombs he didn’t believe them, after all, it seemed pretty tame. That was his first mistake, and also what landed him half way up a tree in Sanctuary of all places, dangling just out of reach from the Hell Bird with the call of a bomb siren and a mouth full of teeth, screaming for Sole to rescue him but all the traitor was doing was laughing. He’s stuck up a tree above the jaws of death and they're laughing at him. Later he tries approaching it with different methods and in different disguises- unfortunately they never work, Sole says it recognizes his shades, he says it’s an Institute spy out for him and only him. It’s a silly, running joke they have, which, incidentally, he feels like whenever the animal decides to give chase.

Dogmeat:He does not like Soles other animal. It doesn't chase him but it does hiss and go to peck him when he scampers past it. Sole will chuckle and give him reassuring head pats, which are very good- but that thing is no friend and he wont be tricked into believing it is.

John Hancock: He’s reclining on his couch in his State House when Soles resident attack bird decides to go in for the kill. It charges, he panics and grabs it by the neck before it can reach his face and do anymore damage, now hes got an arm full of evil and a Vault dweller laughing their ass off in the doorway, he’d probably laugh too- except the birds stronger than it looks and he’s kinda struggling not to be mauled or resort to stabbing his good friends beloved, if malevolent, pet. When sole finally wrangles the devil off of him he starts to notice the neighborhood watch give the creature a wide berth whenever it waddles its way into town. In fact the only person it seams to tolerate other than Sole is Fahrenheit, surprisingly.

Nick Valentine: He vaugly remembers what a Goose is- old Nick used to prefer them over Turkey for Christmas- and he can understand why his appearance might freak the pampered pre-war creature out, but did it really have to attack him every damn time it saw him? He’d think the lousy thing had a vendetta against him, except it did that to everyone who dared cross its path, he’ll never admit out loud that he got a kick out of seeing it terrorize Myrna- loudly smacking the chained cans around with its beak, unfurling its wings and hissing whenever she tired shooing it away. Later he’ll question Sole about why- out of all the possible pre-war animals they could have picked from- why did they have to chose a goose?

Danse: Seeing a fully grown man in full power armor try to run away from a 3kg bird on the war path was the highlight of Sole’s week, seeing him fall over a melon patch- the same one the bird was apparently guarding- in his mad dash for freedom almost had Sole pass out from laughing so hard, when they finally gather themselves enough to assist the paladin he’s red from embarrassment and doesn’t talk to them until the bird is removed from his immediate vicinity, and even then it takes an hour to get a word out of him, he requests that Sole keep their “feral animal” away from the Prydwen, least it knocks someone off the railing or worse- attack Elder Maxson.

Piper: She’d been threatened, she’d been poisoned, she’d experienced attempts on her life and reputation since becoming a reporter. But nothing rattled her quiet like Sole’s relic of an animal companion, its weird elongated neck, those beady soulless eyes, the fact that it could apparently smell fear because it honed in on her like a missile whenever it was in range- it was always a mad dash to put anything or anyone between her and it, soles laughing never helped one bit. She writes a small article on the dangers of owning poultry out of spite and outright refuses to let Nat near it.

Preston:He’d forever be grateful to Sole for all they had done for the Minutemen and the Commonwealth, and if that meant he had to face “Guinevere” from time to time than so be it- this is what he tells himself, what really happens is he usually sees the bird before it sees him and starts running in the opposite direction, unfortunately his sudden movements usually catch said birds attention and it gives chase, hissing as it gains on him like some sort of demon, when it inevitably catches up to him it usually takes him to the ground where he loses his hat, if it doesn't manage to take him down he’s learned that it can’t climb (but it can swim, the water is not a safe place), and there are many trees around Sanctuary, one of which he usually ends up in, waiting for the thing to loose interest and leave (preferably permanently), this is a common occurrence, so common that he has to frequently change his patrol route, because if he doesn't the bird ends up figuring it out and waits in ambush for him, he’d honestly rather deal with raiders.

MacCready: When he first meets the bird he bends down to greet it, as is custom with other small domestic animals. Unfortunately Soles evil, horrible pet takes it as a threat and then goes for his eyes. He screams, flailing back. It fucking hisses. All trust in new animals is lost that day, and now he has more than just the Gunners to look out for, because the “goose” always seems to have its sights set on him. He walks on eggshells around the bird and, even though Sole says it only attacks him because it sees his tension as a threat, he can’t bring himself to let his guard down around it. Ever. He swears that it looks at him funny, like it’s plotting something, probably his untimely death.

Strong: He threatens to stomp on it when it hisses at him, his threatening stance only serves to enrage the creature more. It earns his respect, he has never seen anything channel the amount of rage this tiny monster does, he doesn't understand why Sole finds it so amusing that he and the screaming ball of hate get along so “well”.

X6-88:When he first sees “Dolorous” he has to wonder if the Institute had created the thing, when Sole tells him that it was frozen alongside them and their family he can’t help but wonder why a bird of all things was allowed a place in a vault over a potential human, and when he finally meets Soles pet he thinks he understands why they decided to put it on ice- to keep it locked away from the outside world where it couldn’t hurt anyone anymore. He uses the Institute’s standard non-lethal defensive tactics, but still ends up with a face full of feathers and ears full of Sole’s obnoxious laughter- he did manage to throw the bird off a roof once, only to find out that despite its size it could fly really really well, Sole didn’t talk to him for a week after that and he’s sure in that week the bird kept shooting him smug looks. Sole’s not allowed to bring it into the Institute.

Ada: She just kind of idles there unsure of what to do whenever the goose decides to attack her, at least it doesn't do any damage and it wears itself out eventually, she doesn't know why Sole finds it so funny. Shes tried offering it scrap as a truce but so far nothing has prevailed, the goose still attacks.

Old Longfellow:He’s seen some messed up things in the fog in his time, it does things to creature and people- takes the fear right out of them and replaces it with something hungry and manic, but, somehow Sole’s pet bird manages to put that lost fear right back in them, it’s call carrying better in the dense air than most others, giving it a booming eerie quality that has the likes of wolves and trappers scampering away, those that are brave enough to investigate are blindsided by a pure white bird that blends so well into the fog that you can barely see it in front of you- all of these qualities he’d be grateful for, makes his job a lot easier, he just wished the thing would stop attacking his legs every time he talked, Sole says its because the fog has it tense and all the new things has it wound up, but he thinks it’s just an asshole.

Porter Gage: He threatens to shoot the thing and Sole threatens to punch his teeth in if he did. So now he’s stuck with another animal themed lunatic, except this one really is an animal and it’s only a lunatic around him, as it seems to love the shit out of Sole. He hates that fucking bird. When the Overboss isn’t looking he glares at the bird and he swears it glares right back but that might just be his own bias on how much he does not like the animal, no matter how loud Mason sings its praises- out of fear he bets.

Addendum:I do not have a beta reader and I am dyslexic, I do proof read everything but am bound to make mistakes- and I would like to apologise in advance for any I have missed.

171 notes · View notes

maddogofshimano · 3 years

Text

Bound in the Chains of Suspicion: Haruka and Hamazaki Board Game Event

Major Y3 and Y4 Spoilers

I was surprised to see these two on an event together! Haruka even gets to be the protagonist here

I was more surprised by how emotionally compromised I got about Hamazaki of all people. I mean, I’ve thought he was a cool character ever since Y4, but man! This is the most important part though: LOOK AT HER

I’ve been busy so self-care was writing things up in more of a summary form than doing line for line translations this time. Apologies for the likely higher number of errors than usual and less polish overall, I got this done with only a few hours to spare before the event ended

I do need to put a big honking Content Warning on this one for attempted sexual assault of a minor, in which a grown man twice demands to see Haruka’s panties and attempts to grab her when she refuses. I’m really not a fan of the writing choice to include this, but I’ve got it in here for completeness’s sake

Summary: Set during the time between Kiryu and Yasuko leaving Hamazaki in Okinawa and Haruka’s call to Kiryu the next day to tell Kiryu that Hamazaki had passed away in the hospital. Haruka grapples with whether or not Hamazaki is a bad person and if he’s trustworthy while attempting to save his life

<After the incident where Hamazaki drifted to Morning Glory from Okinawa Penitentiary No. 2.....> We're starting off with in-game events/dialogue, Hamazaki handing over the blackmail he took from jail and asking for Kiryu's help

Immediate flashback to earlier 3/9/2010, more in game events. The kids have just gotten back from a field trip to the woods. They had fun, and want Kiryu to come along next time. Kiryu tries to introduce Hamazaki, Haruka is not having any of it

She tells Kiryu to shut up and Hamazaki to stay the hell away from everyone. Hamazaki is hurt by this, but fully understands and agrees to keep his distance

Next we have the beach conversation with Kiryu where she asks if he’s going back to Tokyo and that she’s scared

Haruka's usually very polite but she keeps calling Hamazaki あの浜崎って人 which is like, "that Hamazaki guy" lol

Haruka's been told by Ayako that "that Hamazaki guy" has left with Kiryu to go to the police station. She's wondering why that guy is now trying to convince Kiryu not to go to Tokyo....... isn't there going to be a big problem if Kiryu doesn't go? Did Hamazaki tell Kiryu not to go..... for Haruka's sake? There's no way, right? A bad person like him wouldn't do something like that..... She can't trust him, but..... <Haruka flashes back to her yelling at Hamazaki and Hamazaki looking sad> She feels she might have been cruel to him

She thinks that Hamzaki just looked so so sad, so she tells Ayako she's going to head out for a bit and asks her to watch over things while she's gone. She thinks that she still can't trust Hamazaki but that maybe, it's possible he really has changed, and he's not such a bad guy anymore... but she can't be sure! So she's going to talk to him a little more

She shows the cop an photo of Kiryu and asks if he's come this way, as well as a big man with a shaved head and a scary face named Hamazaki. The officer says that they did, but went to help a lady look for her brother instead. He points Haruka in the direction they ran off in. She thanks him and wonders who this woman is, and remembers that Kiryu has a phone so she can just call him. Except she forgot her phone at morning glory...... thankfully there's a pay phone nearby, so she uses that instead. Kiryu isn't picking up though, which is worrying. She's sure Hamazaki must have done something!

She runs around the market with her picture of Kiryu asking people if they've seen him. A store owner says that yeah, he's seen that guy with the scary face, he was here not too long ago, and points her in the right direction. She follows the trail, talking to a homeless man, a younger guy, a tourist lady, and finally hitting a dead end and talking to a goon who says yeah, he's seen those three, but his memory's real fuzzy. Maybe he could remember if Haruka would show him her panties. Haruka is taken aback, he tries to grab her, and Haruka fights him off enough to escape. She hides nearby, and happens across someone bleeding on the ground. It's Hamazaki!

Hamazaki is bleeding badly, and collapses. Haruka thinks that she needs to call an ambulance, and fast, but she hears someone shouting in search of Hamazaki. She knows that if they come this way they'll be out in the open, so she starts dragging him despite him being heavy

the voice was of course coming from everyone's fave, Saito the Prison Warden

He knows that Hamazaki got shot in the torso, so he couldn't have gone far. Haruka wonders why Saito would try to kill Hamazaki. Unfortunately Saito decides that his subordinates are useless and that if he wants anything done he'll have to do it himself

He tells a homeless man that if they spot Hamazaki, Yasuko, and Kiryu he'll give them 100,000 yen, and the offer stands for any other homeless friends that help search. Haruka knows that she needs to get Hamazaki somewhere safe that they can hide, and fast. She thinks about it and remembers that right at the end of this alley there's an empty room that's never used that Taichi told her about. She manages to sneak herself and Hamazaki to the building without being spotted by the patrolling homeless men--but once in the building she finds that there's a homeless man inside. He tries to tell her to go play somewhere else but notices that she's dragging Hamazaki behind her, and starts shouting in hopes of getting the 100k. HARUKA ATTACKS THIS MAN. HARUKA OVERPOWERS THIS MAN. THIS MAN IS STRUGGLING TO GET AWAY AND HARUKA IS TELLING HIM HE CAN'T TELL ANYONE CAUSE THE PEOPLE LOOKING FOR HAMAZAKI NO OJISAN WILL KILL HIM

The man comments that Haruka's hands are shaking. He says he's been there too. When he worked as a day laborer, his hands would shake like that when he was desperately trying to haul heavy things. For the sake of helping an adult she's pushing her tiny body to it's limits... He agrees not to tell anyone, he's not going to be happy with any amount of money at the cost of someone's life. If any other homeless people come by, he's going to spread rumors that Hamazaki is far away from here, so that should help with Haruka's escape Haruka thinks again about calling an ambulance, worried that Hamazaki will bleed out, but still worried that they'll be found before it gets there. She also worries about why she hasn't seen Kiryu, and why Hamazaki was all alone at that building. The guy that shot Hamazaki seems like a cop and a bad person, but she had also thought Hamazaki was a bad person before... He did shoot Hamazaki, but Hamazaki also stabbed Kiryu...

Haruka wonders if maybe telling the cops where Hamazaki is would be the right thing to do. Maybe he's the real bad guy here. In response Hamazaki makes an eloquent argument compared to every previous line which had just been "Ughh gh ughh" and instead goes for "cough cough....!"

He's conscious enough to recognize Haruka as that kid who was at Kiryu's place. Haruka asks if Hamazaki is alright, and where is Kiryu? Is he okay? Hamazaki wheezes out that Kiryu's gone to a bad place, which is about the most ominous way to say things. Haruka panics internally, but unlike many other instances of miscommunication where Hamazaki would pass out right there, he says that Kiryu went with Saejima's sister to Tokyo. Haruka can't believe it. Hamazaki apologizes that he ended up separating Haruka from Kiryu after all.

Hamazaki also says that, despite everything, Kiryu's doing this to keep Haruka safe. Haruka wonders about that and Hamazaki collapses again. Haruka rushes off and calls an ambulance from the closest pay phone. She thinks that, if she trusts what Hamazaki is saying, then Kiryu has something important to do again. But is that really the case? She decides it'll be alright to trust Hamazaki. Before she makes it to the pay phone she's stopped by Saito introduces himself as a prison warden and says he's looking for a very bad man. He's large and has a shaved head, and was seen with a woman in a long coat and a man in a Hawaiian shirt. Haruka says she hasn't seen anyone, and rushes to the phone to call. Saito doesn't seem too convinced. Haruka makes the call and thinks that Saito had a real scary look in his eyes. She's pretty sure he's the bad one here. Once that guy gives up looking, then she can go home

Unfortunately we have the return of the disgusting creep that wants to look at her panties, now telling her that he looked all over for her, and she better not think about trying to run away this time. Haruka tells him to stay back

He says that it's fine if she hates him. In fact, that's even more enticing. She says to let her through, she's in a rush. He says he just wants to see her panties already, and tries to grab her. Another fight, she manages to avoid getting grabbed but he keeps her cornered and says she should stop fighting. He's cut off by a baton to the back of the head by the unlikeliest of heroes, dropping the creep

Haruka now has to consider, is it possible that Saito isn't actually a bad guy? Haruka leaves, and Saito comments to himself that he's going to find Hamazaki.

Haruka rushes back to Hamazaki, who is still lying on the floor going Ughhghghhhhh. She tells him to hold on a little longer, and ambulance is on the way. Hamazaki apologizes, and asks if she's alright. Haruka's confused. Hamazaki says that she scraped her knee on something, didn't she? It was from dragging him, right? She says no, she just fell and scraped it. Haruka's taken aback, even on the verge of death he's concerned about someone else--he really has changed. But... this could all be an act, she has no way to know... should she really be trusting him? There's a voice outside saying that this is where he's hiding. Search everywhere. both: !?

There's no time to hide, Saito is already here. Apparently it's been about 2 hours.

He followed Haruka, knowing she'd lead him right to Hamazaki. He saw the blood on her clothes and had a hunch. Once they talked at that pay phone he was certain she was hiding a half-dead Hamazaki somewhere. Haruka tries to protest but Saito thanks her for her help. It's a good way to thank him for saving her from that creep, right? Either way he only stepped in because he wanted her to lead him to Hamazaki as quickly as possible. Saito decides they've had enough chit-chat and says it's time to cut to the chase: he starts beating on Hamazaki and demanding to know where Kiryu Kazuma and Saejima's sister are

Hamazaki tells Haruka to run. He says that once they realize they can't beat the whereabouts of Kiryu and Saejima Yasuko out of him... they'll start torturing Haruka. He's going to use the last of his strength to stand and knock this guy to the ground, that'll be Haruka's opening to escape. Saito tells them to cut it with the whispering. Hamazaki says that Saito has a real hideous mug, it really makes him laugh, and earns himself another beating. Haruka calls out but Hamazaki cuts her off and says that it's okay to be scared. Hamazaki's dealt with plenty of guys like this. Saito threatens to kill him if he doesn't spit out where Kiryu is already. Hamazaki laughs and says he doesn't know. Saito asks if he needs his memory jogged, pauses, and sees Haruka standing in front of Hamazaki. He asks what she's trying to do. She says this is terrible! She can't let this go any further!!

Saito doesn't care if she's just a kid, he's happy to give her an attitude adjustment. Hamazaki launches himself at Saito to prevent him from beating Haruka, saying that he won't allow Saito to lay a single finger on this child. Saito attacks Hamazaki with intent to kill. Hamazaki can't move anymore after the fight, and Saito keeps hitting until he goes down. Saito declares that he would never die in a place like this, he's the one who's coming out on top. He reels back to strike Hamazaki, shouting for him to die, and........ HARUKA GRABS HIM AND STOPS HIM FROM HITTING HAMAZAKI! He calls her a bitch and tells her to let go of him!

Haruka: I won't let go....! Not ever.....! Hamazaki-san! Run!

Saito: Let go of me you biiiiiiiiiiiiitch! Saito turns to swing at Haruka but is taken down by one giant punch from Hamazaki, who tells him not to get back up. The ambulance finally arrives. Haruka begs him to hold on just a little longer. Hamazaki agrees, and laughs a little. He stopped Saito from laying a finger on her after all. He's glad he was able to protect her. There's on favor he needs to ask of her. Hamazaki: Tell Kiryu...... and Saejima that......... the Tojo Clan... is the only proof they ever walked this earth...... They have to... protect it....... from the police

He then collapses. Haruka begs him to hold on

The doctor tells Haruka that Hamazaki is in bad shape... he might not even make it to the morning.

Haruka thinks back to her yelling at Hamazaki at the orphanage Haruka: I'm sorry, Hamazaki-san..... I... I was cruel to you then... and now I can't even apologize to you for it. I'm sorry....... I'm sorry...... Hamazaki: ......What's.... wrong....... Haruka-..... chan........ Haruka: !? Doctor: Incredible.... he's awake! Haruka: H-Hamazaki-san.... I'm sorry! I... back then when I.... I'm can't apologize enough....... Haruka: Back at Morning Glory.... I didn't trust you.... I said some cruel things that hurt you.... I'm sorry! Haruka: I was certain you were a horrible person back then.... but now.... I don't think that's true.... Haruka: For protecting Uncle Kaz.... for protecting me.... thank you, Hamazaki-san! Hamazaki: Heheh.... thanks, huh? Hamazaki: ......First time.... anyone's ever said that kind of thing.... sincerely to me...... Haruka: Hamazaki-san...... Hamazaki: Heheh.... it's fine........ Since we're.... giving thanks to people..... Hamazaki: Thank you... Haruka-chan.... Right at the very end...... you saved me <Hamazaki collapses> Haruka: .....! H-Hamazaki-saaaaaan!!! <at New Serena, Kiryu gets a phone call> Kiryu: ....Haruka. What's wrong, did something happen?

Haruka: Uncle Kaz... Hamazaki-san..... he just passed away. At the hospital.

Straight from the in-game dialogue, Haruka tells Kiryu that Hamazaki had been shot in the back, leading to his death. He thanks Haruka for being there for him, she says it was no trouble, and that she thinks he died protecting Kiryu. Kiryu agrees. Haruka says she thinks she was wrong about Hamazaki, and passes along his message for Kiryu and Saejima, and lets Kiryu know that his body is currently at Morning Glory. Kiryu says they'll hold a memorial service once he's back <phone call ends> Haruka: .....Uncle Kaz. The Tojo Clan that Hamazaki-san protected... he's left it's protection to you. <END>

Bonus stuff:

as we all know, Haruka has not had enough people literally die in front of her eyes, so time to add Hamazaki to that list!

okay so immediately after Hamazaki wakes up in the hospital there’s this screen which made me break down into nearly crying laughter in the middle of the emotional moment, so I used my editorial authority to move it down here instead

the doctor’s face! why did they do this!!

Anyways here’s all of Haruka’s little blurbs from going around the board

Beach There's a beach in front of Morning Glory. We keep coming back to here to look at the ocean. It's an indispensable spot for all of us.

Morning Glory Our beloved home. When I first came here, I thought it was super spacious, but lately it feels cramped. It must be because everyone has grown up.

Hamazaki-san The guy who stabbed uncle Kaz.... But now, Hamazaki-san gives off a totally different vibe than back then. Is it really okay to trust him....?

Ebisu Pawn The Ryukyu branch of Ebisu. Uncle Kaz goes there every now and then. I have no idea what he's pawning off but... I'd like to help.

People Running Shakedowns Even in Okinawa there are people that will do shakedowns.... I need to tell everyone to keep an eye out before anything happens....!

Ojisan The caretaker of Morning Glory. Honestly, everyone truly thinks of him like their dad. If you tell him something like that however, he will get embarrassed.

Everyone at Morning Glory Everyone here has no parents, but each of them has a bright future ahead of them if they keep working hard. We've all become a real family for each other.

Sailor Outfit For my middle school I have to wear this sailor outfit. At first I would get embarrassed when everyone looked at me.

Mame A resident (pet?) of Morning Glory. Mame is getting bigger, and it's making his daily walks and pacing beforehand a real pain! (TL note: the resident (pet?) is Haruka swapping the counter between for a person and for an animal, which does not really have an english translation lol)

Dragon Mask When Taichi was sick, this was used for a pro wrestling match on the beach. I haven't seen it since then. If I ask nicely, I wonder if it could be used again?

That’s all! Thank you for reading all of this!! I cherish every single tag people leave on these posts when they reblog them

#yakuza #rggo #ryu ga gotoku online #Ryu ga Gotoku #Hamazaki #Haruka #Kiryu

31 notes · View notes

writing-on-standby · 3 years

Text

time of dreaming (part three)

Summary: Soulmates meet in their dreams from the age of 16 until they meet for the first time. Once they meet, they share their physical and emotional feelings with one another until they die. Tom Holland was just starting to learn how to take over the family business and ignore the urge to find his soulmate when everything changes and he’s found face to face with you. You’ve always wanted to meet your soulmate and spend the rest of your life with them until you actually meet yours and life changes forever.

Warnings: Drug use, swearing, alcohol, angst, mentions of scars/injury (not self harm)

part three: coping mechanisms

A few days after your last interaction with Tom and Harrison, you were discharged from the hospital. Jazmin had taken you home and spent the week after at your house, helping you. She didn’t ask for details about what happened, but word was quickly spreading that you were assaulted in a drug deal gone wrong. Wrong place, wrong time. And you didn’t have the heart to say otherwise.

After a week of time off, however, Jazmin had to go back to work, leaving you alone to take care of the hundreds of stitches you had that kept your chest closed. Your arm was still in a sling and wandering around the house was difficult. There was a constant dull ache in your stomach where Luke O’Malley had stabbed you. You didn’t know what happened to him and you had no idea what happened to Tom and Harrison, but you didn’t care. At least that’s what you told yourself.

Nothing was more heartbreaking, however, than to feel the hands of another woman on Tom, exploring his body and getting to know him. You’d wake up in the middle of the night, tasting cigarettes and whiskey while feeling the lips of someone on your skin. You’d try to block out the sensation of Tom sleeping with another girl, but nothing worked, not even you drinking.

Eventually, one night that Tom was getting frisky with another woman, you looked at the medication you were given to help ease the pain you were in. You took a deep, calming breath, determined to get this feeling out of your head. Without another thought, you popped two painkillers and laid down on your bed. A small smile lifted your cheeks as you could only focus on the comfort of the bed.

Maybe it wasn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, but in that moment, you were desperate to feel anything other than Tom fucking another woman. You nestled deeper into your bed while your body felt light and airy. You slowly closed your eyes and smiled. This was working. For once, you had a way to numb Tom’s feelings and the sensations he felt and for the next six hours, you’d finally pretend he wasn’t your soulmate.

Two weeks and some bad decisions later, you were out of pain killers and your body was screaming in pain. You groaned and crawled out of bed. The stitches had come out of your chest, but the mark was still there; angry and harsh against your soft skin. You had been kicked out of the internship program due to your incident and while the director denied it was because if that, you couldn’t hide the nagging reminder of the scar that somehow showed through any article of clothing you tried.

Tom’s feelings and sensations weren’t making things any better, either. If he wasn’t hooking up with random women, he was drinking whiskey at the worst time of day and smoking cigarettes like he would die without them. On days you tried to be productive, Tom would get into fights. His knuckles constantly ached as did his throat. Having him as your soulmate was insufferable and when you got a particularly bad cramp during your period, you couldn’t help the petty joy you felt, knowing he was also suffering.

You dragged yourself out of the house. The shirt you wore showed off the jagged edge of of the scar you had. The worst part of having the injuries you had wasn’t the pain, but the combination of a massive scar on your chest and the need to wear specific shirts to accommodate to the sling you had to wear. You sighed, trying to ignore the sense of dread seeing the injuries filled you with, but nothing worked.

You walked out of your dingy apartment and onto the streets of London. You were trying to find a way to get more pain killers, but the doctors had already refused your request. As much as you hated yourself for even entertaining the idea of illegally obtaining drugs, you couldn’t go another day with the feelings you had. Luckily for you, you lived in a sketchy part of town and happened to know where the drug deals went down.

Not even caring that your soulmate was a glorified drug dealer or that what you were about to do was definitely illegal, you approached the dealer who stood in the alley by your flat.

“Hey pretty thing,” the dealer spoke, gruffly. His face was ragged and covered with stubble. His blue eyes weren’t menacing like you always pictured a drug dealer to be. “Need something to help with that?” The dealer gestured to your injuries with a cigarette dancing between his finger tips. “Since you’re so pretty, I’ll give you a discount.”

How kind of him, you thought to yourself, sarcastically. You sighed and nodded, slowly. You ignored the spade shaped pin on his chest even though you knew it indicated who he belonged to - the Hollands. “How much?”

The dealer chuckled and told you his price. It wasn’t bad and you handed him the cash. With a sickeningly sweet smile, he handed you a bottle full of painkillers. “Don’t take them all at once, sweetheart.”

You ignored the smirk on his face as you turned and started walking away. Your heart was racing and your body was warm. You ignored every part of your instincts telling you to drop the painkillers and run, but you needed it. You tried to slow your breathing, knowing that Tom would be able to sense your anxiety. What did you care, though? He didn’t give two shits about you. He had made that perfectly clear.

Tom stood in his office talking with Harrison. It was the end of the day and they were waiting for the report on the sales his drug dealers had. It was a typical routine that happened almost every day. Tom filled two glasses with whiskey and grinned as he handed it to his best friend. Things were starting to look up.

Over the last three weeks since he had met his soulmate, he’d only felt the soreness in your shoulder along with a dull ache in his stomach. He shrugged off the pain, easily having worse injuries in his life. However, when your period came around, Tom struggled. While your cramps weren’t awful, Tom never had to get used to dealing with them and he simply found it way too uncomfortable.

As the days went on, Tom noticed you feeling more lightheaded and less pain came from your shoulder and stomach. Tom ignored it, assuming that you had finally healed up the wounds. He had tried to ignore any thoughts or emotions about you. It was too hard to think about the look on your face when he last saw you. Your eyes were wide with pain and a frown sat firmly on your lips. It was hard to process the fact that his soul was forever connected to another person and now he had a face to match with the sensation.

A swift knock sounded on Tom’s office door. Tom called for the person to enter and turned to see who it was. Jason, the drug dealer who was in charge of the southern part of the city, walked in. His blue eyes beamed and the stubble on his face added an extra disheveled look to the man. Tom greeted him and he nodded.

“How was the day? Did you make any sales?” Harrison asked, arms crossed. Harrison kept track of the finances in the mob. He knew that Tom was shit with numbers.

Jason chuckled and leaned back. “There was this one bird who came today. Poor thing,” he muttered with his thick cockney accent. He shook his head and lit up a cigarette. “Had her arm in a sling and a nasty scar.”

Harrison and Tom looked at each other. Without saying a word, they both were on the same page. “What arm was in a sling?”

“Where was the scar?” Harrison added, looking at Jason, intently.

Jason looked at the two of them for a brief second. Tom knew this sounded insane, but he didn’t care. Why would you be buying drugs? Jason took a deep drag off his cigarette and sighed, letting all the smoke blow out of him. “Her right arm was in the sling and the scar was right on her sternum. Looked like it went further, but the shirt covered it. What’s the big deal with her?”

Tom shook his head. “Jesus fuck,” he groaned. “Jason, if that woman buys from you ever again, call me as soon as she leaves. Got it?”

Jason furrowed his brows. “Can I ask why?”

Tom chuckled, but there was no humor in his laugh. He shook his head and threw his empty whiskey glass at the wall. It shattered right behind Jason, causing the drug dealer to jump to his feet. Most people had grown to fear Tom and despite his distaste for that power, he used it to his advantage more often than not. “No you fucking can’t,” Tom shouted. “Get the fuck out of my office.”

Jason walked out of the office without another word, leaving Tom and Harrison alone. Harrison looked at Tom in disbelief. Despite the two of them being best friends, Tom had grown distant from Harrison. “Tom,” he whispered. “What’s going on in your head?”

Tom shook his head, trying to ignore the massive amounts of guilt he was feeling. Most nights, before he went to sleep, he’d feel fear and anxiety build up in your bones. He felt you shake awake from nightmares in a cold terror. Tom could feel the ache still present in your body and worst of all, he could feel every time you took drugs. It just took you buying them illegally from one of his drug dealers to finally face the truth. Tom knew that this was a new behavior. In fact, he felt your anxiety earlier today, but assumed it was something normal, not a drug deal. The guilt was crawling into Tom’s lungs and nestling itself firmly on his chest. It was his fault that you were now breaking the law and abusing drugs. “It’s my fault,” he sighed.

“No, it’s not, Tom,” Harrison spoke, confidently. He took a step closer to Tom, but Tom shook his head.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Harrison.” Tom looked at the open office doors and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and tried to think of his father. In moments like this, Tom could always count on his father to help him get his thoughts in order.

“I know you’re excited that you met your soulmate, Tom, but you cannot meet her. You know that you can’t, right?”

Tom took a bite of his cereal and nodded. Tom was getting better at focusing on the future of his mob rather than the vague-faced woman he saw in his dreams. “I know, dad.”

“Good,” he sighed. Tom’s father was always loving and encouraging to the boys, but when it came to soulmates, he wouldn’t budge. Tom knew that the distaste for soulmates was because of what happened with his mother, but Tom never dared to mention such a thing to his dad.

“Dad, what if I accidentally meet her?”

Tom avoided his dad’s cold stare from the other side of the table. It was a genuine question, on Tom’s part. He knew that meeting his soulmate wasn’t allowed, but what if she happened to be in the same store one day? Or what if she was a cop that he ran into one day? Tom’s dad finally sighed and shook his head. “Tom, you won’t meet her. And if you do, then you’ll start feeling her every thought, feeling, and emotion. That makes you weak, Tom. You can’t let yourself be weak. Not when you belong to this family and you have this job.”

Tom nodded at the bowl of cereal in front of him. His dad had been preparing him for the lifestyle that he was expected to continue, but Tom was still not ready to shut out normal emotions in the way that his father expected him to. Tom tried to ignore the nagging feeling he had in the back of his throat that meeting you in your dreams as frequently as he did was worse than actually meeting you. Tom had already grown attached to the way you laughed at his serious tone or the way you’d be able to tell when he didn’t want to talk about meaningless things. He was attached to the way you were so easily there for him, even when he was being a relentless asshole. Tom couldn’t help but feel like he was already breaking your heart despite only knowing each other for a few weeks. And even then, you didn’t even know what the other one looked like. Tom looked up at his dad who raised his eyebrows. Tom knew that his dad was expecting him to agree and to show submission to his father’s request. Tom sighed, ignoring the soul crushing guilt he felt when he slowly nodded at his father. “Okay, dad.”

You walked back to your flat and shut the door with a sigh. Your hands were shaking as you popped open the pill vile and took two pills. At this point, your body was so used to taking the pills that two weren’t enough for you, but you weren’t sure if there was a difference in illegal pain killers and legal pain killers. You took a deep breath, trying to ignore the overwhelming sense of guilt that you could feel coming from Tom. Your first instinct was to find him, hold him, and comfort him. After a few seconds you shook your head in disgust. If Tom gave a single shit about you, he’d come over every time you woke up with tears streaming down your face because of nightmares. If Tom cared about you, he would check up on you every time he felt you get high. If Tom cared, he wouldn’t sleep with random women nearly every day. If Tom didn’t care, why did you?

You ignored the ache in your heart that was now because of your own thoughts. Instead, you focused on the way your body felt lighter with each step you took. You focused on the soft fabric of your shirt and the way the rug under your feet felt. You sighed, drowsily, as the pain killers slowly took effect on your body. You flopped onto the couch and felt your body sink into the plush cushions. You turned on the TV, planning to watch some trashy reality while you enjoyed your high, but your phone ringing caught you off guard. The phone number wasn’t recognized, but you didn’t care enough to worry if it was something serious. You silenced the call without another thought.

The phone started ringing, again, however. You groaned and silenced it again, not wanting to talk to anyone. If it was that important, they could leave a message, you reasoned with yourself. The phone rang for a third time, and you felt anger prick at your cheeks and burn into your chest. You suddenly put the sensation with the incessant calling and realized that it was Tom calling you. Tom was calling you and you ignoring him was pissing him off. You smirked at this realization and chuckled. Before you could think of any reason why Tom would be calling you, you shut your phone off and turned the volume of the TV louder. You popped open the pill container you were given and took a third. With the smile still lazily spreading across your cheeks, you walked over to the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of wine. Without thinking, you guzzled the whole glass and poured another. “Fuck you, Tom Holland,” you muttered to yourself, as if toasting to this statement. You raised the glass to your lips and took another drink, already feeling sick.

Your stomach was flipping and lurching, but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was the fact that you were feeling a cigarette burning your throat and the warmth of Tom’s anger. You were pleased with yourself for dragging these feelings out of Tom. It was high fucking time that he was suffering because of you just as much as you were because of him. You finished the second glass, forcing the alcohol to burn every inch of your throat and stomach. You knew you were going to be sick, but the thought of making Tom feel your suffering and pain was too glorifying for you. You filled a third glass and took a drink as you stumbled into the living room with drunken giggles. Maybe you didn’t care so much about the scar you now held forever, or the fact that your future was put on hold because of Tom. Maybe you could pretend for a small minute that everything was okay.

You flopped on the couch, spilling the wine on your shirt, but all you could do was giggle. You were growing more tired and sick, but you couldn’t let yourself be bothered. All you could do was chuckle, lazily. You forced your eyes to stay as open as they could, but the alcohol mixing with the pain killers was making you so incredibly drowsy. It didn’t matter, though. You could never sleep, lately.

The last few weeks, you would wake up in a cold sweat, thinking of the man who held you against him and slashed your chest open. You hadn’t slept a full night since the assault, but the drugs were helping. You smiled at the thought of being able to sleep for a few hours without seeing or hearing that man. Maybe one day, you’d sleep through the night without the help of drugs, but for now, you were medicating yourself. What else was there to do?

Before you could stand up to fill a fourth glass of wine, your apartment door busted open. Your reflexes were slowed and your logic was out the window. You stood up and wobbled back and forth, trying to balance yourself. Ignoring the smallest rational voice in the back of your brain telling you that it was Tom, you still walked towards the door. You stumbled and peered your head around the corner to see Tom and Harrison both standing there. Anger filled your bones as you looked at their dumb faces. You could see Tom wobbling slightly, but he wasn’t nearly as affected by you. You stumbled into their view and threw the wine glass at Tom as best as you could. It missed his head, narrowly, and shattered at his feet.

Tom whipped his head to glare at you. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You chuckled. “Fuck you, Tom Holland,” you slurred. A laugh erupted out of your diaphragm, even though you knew this situation was far from funny, but this was all you could bring yourself to do in this moment. You shrugged at the boy. His brown eyes were concerned and his eyebrows were knitted, but the drugs in your system blocked his feelings from you. Tom took a step closer to you and you flinched backwards, causing you to trip over the rug behind you. Your ass hit the ground with a pathetic thud and Tom walked over to you. He knelt beside you and helped you up. “Get the fuck off me,” you whimpered as tears slipped out of your eyes. An uncontrollable sadness was washing through your veins and you knew it was yours. It was the sadness over your lost career, your lost soulmate, and the weight of the trauma that you’d experienced in your life.

Tom helped you sit on the couch as he pursed his lips. You could see the fear and the guilt dancing along his eyebrows. He shook his head as he wiped a tear from your cheek. He pushed the hair off of your face and slowly rubbed your back. The last thing you wanted right now was to be comforted by Tom, but you couldn’t ignore the ache in your soul to just be with Tom. “Why are you doing this?”

You sniffled as the world kept shifting around you. The alcohol was fully hitting you and all you could do was accept it. “I can’t sleep; I can’t eat. I have nothing. All I can think of is…is…him,” you sputtered. “All I can think of is the fear and the smell of him. I can’t sleep without seeing him and I can’t eat without feeling the knife against my chest. I can’t function with you sleeping around with other women. I can’t escape this-this anger and sadness.” You wiped your eyes, roughly and shook your head. “You’re not here because you care. You’re here to make sure I don’t fuck with your mob or the cops.” Your lips curled in a sneer as you spit on the ground. The more you talked, the more saliva filled your mouth. Or maybe it was the tears that were now uncontrollably falling from your eyes that were filling your mouth. It didn’t matter to you, not right now. “I won’t fuck with anything. I’m just trying to keep my head above water.”

Tom’s heart was breaking at the sight of you. The scar was clearly visible and tears were freely falling down your cheeks, but you were still speaking your mind. He knew that the universe made you his soulmate because you weren’t afraid to speak your mind to him. “Love, let’s get you into some pj’s and get some rest, okay?”

“What’s the point,” you spat. “I don’t sleep anyway.”

“C’mon,” he ushered, softly. He helped you stand and walked you towards the bedroom. You didn’t fight him as he wrapped his arms around you waist and you certainly didn’t fight him when he held you close to his side. He helped you with every stumble and wobble, but his grip never wavered.

Once in your bedroom, Tom held you up as you grabbed some sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. He covered his eyes as you changed, but his hand was still softly at your side. Maybe it was the drugs or the alcohol that was lowering your ability to think clearly. Two hours ago, you would’ve punched Tom so hard in his face, but in this moment, as he took care of you, you couldn’t feel the anger anymore. You could feel his guilt and his sadness, but you didn’t feel angry anymore. His brown eyes were so concerned as he helped you lay on your bed. Without asking, he took off his heavy knit sweater and climbed into bed, next to you.

“I’m so mad at you,” you whimpered as tears fell out of your eyes. “I can’t fucking stand you.”

Tom could hear the weakness in your tone and knew that you were trying so hard to come off menacing. He couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle as he heard Harrison sweep up the broken glass and tidy up the flat. “I know, princess,” he whispered. “Let me try to help you sleep, okay? You need to sleep, love.” Your eyelids slipped shut as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be right here. I promise.”

You couldn’t fight it anymore. You let the wave of sleep wash over your exhausted body. Tom’s arms were tightly wrapped around you, filling you with a sense of security. You listened to his steady heartbeat and felt your soul rest, finally.

And for the first time in weeks, you finally slept through the night without any nightmares.

part four

#tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fan fiction #tom holland au #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland #mob!tom holland #mob!tom #au fanfic #au fanfiction #au #soulmate au #soulmate fanfic #soulmate fanfiction #soulmate!tom holland #soulmate!tom #writer #writing #writerscommunity

92 notes · View notes

stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale · 3 years

Text

Top 5 Character Deaths That Made Me Side-Eye the Writers

There are a lot of character deaths in TWDG... obviously. It a series about the literal dead walkin’ around and eating people, so as you’re playing, one of your favorite characters is bound to meet such a fate. To give this series credit, it does have quite a few well-executed deaths that, while I hate them, they have a purpose in the story that works.

The best example of this is Lee’s death-- we all hate that Lee dies, but it’s well-done. It serves its purpose, it acted as both a shock and a slow-burn for the player, and left us all an emotional mess.

However, we’re not talking about the “good” deaths today. No, we’re talking about the character deaths that are poorly executed, cheap, lazy, and just plain dumb... they’re the deaths that make me side-eye the writing team and wonder what the fuck happened there.

By the way, it was reeeeeeal fun narrowing it down to only five deaths, because it seems like for every great death, there’s at least two bad ones.

5. Mariana and her death that ruined ANF’s potential story

I’ve talked at length about Mariana’s death and how much I hate it. Like, I get it TWDG... you love your sudden deaths and you’re so edgy for killing off a child character because you’ve never done that before... but maybe consider things a little further before pulling the trigger?

Yeah, killing off Mariana the way they did got a reaction outta people when it happened, and we got the burial scene if you stayed with Clementine... but you didn’t consider the future of this storyline? You pretend you did by name dropping Mari when it’s convenient, but then throw it out the window when it comes to characters like David or Gabe.

Listen, I know that ANF is a mess and what’s the point in telling the mess that it’s a mess? Well, I’m still annoyed at the writers for wasting the biggest opportunity for this game’s story, something that could’ve saved it from being a mess.

And I get it, you gotta make a death quota, so instead of killing Mariana off... why not kill Kate off instead? Oh no? We don’t get the stupid love triangle that no one actually enjoys or is engaged in?

Instead of this dumb story about Javi falling in love with his sister-in-law but oh no David’s back.... we could’ve had a story about Javi losing Kate and being left to care for two children by himself. Mariana and Gabe are all he has left, and he going to do whatever he can to keep them safe all while the three of them are mourning Kate.

Then David comes back, and he immediately takes these kids away from Javi.

There is no stupid storyline with Kate, but an actual conflict between two brothers who were never on the same page and two kids caught in the middle.

Plus, Mariana herself as a character really could’ve brought something to the table. She could’ve brought out a lot in David’s character since she seems to be more like Javi.

Her death is just... annoying. It’s frustrating when you know they could’ve told a better story with her alive, something ANF desperately needed.

My side-eye is one of disappointment and annoyance.

4.Luke and his easily preventable drowning

Ugh.... where to even begin?

Luke really just gets butchered as a character throughout the second half of S2, and the writers end up demolishing the set up they placed at the beginning of the season for a Luke vs Kenny thing.

Why? Well, Luke vs Kenny was the initial ending they were gonna go with, but because this season went through all kinds of bullshit, they scrapped that and replaced Luke with Jane... and it’s so dumb.

Hell, it kind of ruins a lot. Not only did it ruin Luke, a character that many players loved, but it forces the new character of Jane, who we only get two episodes to get to know, so they can fade Luke out.

But that’s not all.

His death is so... ugh. It’s stupid, okay? Stupid and easily preventable, but noooo... we gotta kill Luke off for reasons because all we know is that S1 killed off a lot of characters and we’re gonna do that again but worse because we failed to understand what made those deaths impactful in the first place.

Lots of character death and despair = good game.

Yep, uh-huh. Okay.

So we all know that Luke’s leg is hurt, yeah? Great, so you’d think that the group that has an injured man and a new born baby would be extra cautious and go around the frozen lake. Yeah, Arvo says that it’s safe but let’s not take any chances.

But no. We gotta go across like a group of dingdongs and whattya know-- the ice begins to crack beneath Luke’s feet. Now, even here, we coulda got him outta there safely... if Bonnie wasn’t a dingus.

Think about it. If we shot the walkers who were coming towards Luke with all their weight, he could’ve slowly scooted away, even if he’s already fallen through. BUT NO. Bonnie either guilts Clementine into going towards him, adding more weight to the already fragile ice as Luke tells her to stop, or Bonnie will go over there herself... and she’s a full grown woman soooo her weight breaks the ice.

Good job, you dipsticks.

When you have to make your characters into morons in order to move the plot along and kill off characters....maybe do some rethinking, yeah?

3. Mitch and his shock-value death

This death is so dumb... so incredibly, dumb. Even now, I can’t help but give full side-eye to the writers every time one of them tries to justify this death.

I’m sorry, but this death didn’t have the impact you wanted it to have. And because there’s always someone who says, “Mitch didn’t die for shock value, you just can’t tell the difference between a good and bad death” lemme tell you a thing.

What was the point of killing of Mitch? Well, according to those who worked on TFS, it was to show that Lilly and the delta are serious. This is when shit gets real, and when Lilly is established as a bad bitch who will do whatever it takes to get what she wants. We should be scared of her now.

Except no.

This scene doesn’t tell me that Lilly is a bad bitch. It tells me that she has good reflexes, and going off her reaction after killing Mitch.... I’m not fucking scared of this dumbass. If anything, this scene says more about Mitch than it does Lilly. It says that Mitch is also a dumbass for running at her like he did.

Y’know what would’ve been more impactful? If Mitch didn’t immediately get stabbed in the throat, but instead, actually got her on the ground and struggled with Lilly. Then, Lilly gets the upper hand and when you think she’s about to send Mitch to the cart, she fucking murders him in front of everyone to prove a point.

There’s no remorse, it’s slow enough for Lilly to actually process what’s happening and show that she does know what she’s doing. That would scare me. That would show me that these people aren’t fucking around and they’re willing to kill some of them if that means getting the rest for their army.

You still get your shock value death but it actually does something other than kill a character off.

I’m really supposed to believe this is the same Lilly who can order to have Louis’ tongue cut off?

But it doesn’t end there. No, no... there’s another part to Mitch’s death that annoys me, and it’s how insistent everyone was that his death is going to have a greater impact on the second half of the story. It had a purpose within the story, we did it for a reason.

...I mean, it has an impact on Willy and his arc for the second half.

But that’s it.

Oh... oh, what’s that? Oh, you were referring to those throwaway lines about Tenn? “He was screwing up again, just like when he got Mitch killed.”

OOOOOH.... I see, that’s what Mitch’s death was really amounting to... some lines dealing with whether or not AJ shot Tenn. Well, I guess I was wrong. Mitch’s death wasn’t just shock value. It really had a big purpose. In fact, Mitch’s death has the biggest impact on the series. Fuck Marlon and Brody’s deaths, and Lilly and James, and hell, fuck Tenn’s death, too. They’re meaningless compared to Mitch’s death. You did it, guys. You really did it.

....Okay, I’m done. I’m just... salty, I fully admit.

Being serious again, Mitch’s death is probably the worst in TFS as far as unpreventable deaths go and the real reason I side-eye the writers is because they tried to tell us it was going to have this huge impact in the future and it just... didn’t.

2. Nick and his offscreen death.

I’m sorry, but what the fuck happened here? Why- what are you- how the hell did this happen??

I’m actually baffled.

Someone wrote this.

They set up at the end of ep3 that Nick is shot.... then ep4 comes and we find him like this. I just... did someone on the writing staff not wanna do their job that day? Someone was working on the story and at the last minute forgot Nick was a character, so they were like “Eh, he’s not important anyway, and it adds to the shittiness of everything so we’ll pretend this was 100% intentional.”

Nick was one of your more interesting characters and you really thought killing him off like this was the way to go, huh?

Like, his first death is shitty, but in the very least it kind of makes sense.

But this?

This is horrible. If I wrote this, I’d be embarrassed.

I just... I’m so tired of S2 right now.

This is at #2 because it’s just lazy, bad writing. At least with Luke, Mitch, and Mariana, we got to see their deaths and they had some, even if just a little, impact on the story afterward.

But Nick?

Nothin’.

Even Luke, who is the closest person to Nick, name drops him maybe twice? It’s just.... nothing.

And yeah, you can come at me with the “oh well not every death has to have meaning!”

This is a story, okay? This is a story crafted with characters who have arcs by people who wanted it to be a success, and usually that means having satisfying conclusions.... or, intentionally unsatisfying if that acts as a natural conclusion to their story or is a reoccurring theme.

Nick’s death is just the writers falling flat on their faces and hoping no one would notice.

1. Sarah and both of her shitty deaths.

Ugh. UGH.

Okay.

I’m not even side-eyeing anymore-- I’m fully glaring.

I don’t have to tell you how shitty both of Sarah’s deaths are. We all played S2, we all know that no matter what you do, Sarah dies in ep4. You can try to save her, she lives a little bit longer, and then falls to her death... and both deaths have her being devoured alive by walkers.

Now, this is enough to annoy me. First off, I guess my choices don’t really matter. Sure, you can justify this as one of those “sometimes you can’t save someone, no matter how hard you try” ...and fine. Sure, if they had bothered to execute that point well, then great.

But I disagree that the writers had that in mind when they were killing Sarah off.

In fact, I know what what going on in their brains-- “God, can’t wait to kill Sarah off! Give us any reason to do it! She’s so damn annoying!”

The writers have openly admitted that a lot of the team were just waiting to kill Sarah off, waiting for any reason, so when the major part of the community who take everything at surface level because why think? kept complaining about Sarah, they jumped on the opportunity to kill her off.... but the deaths are dumb.

Listen, this isn’t like when the writers planned on killing Lee off. You can plan a death and even be excited about it because you’re excited about the story and execution of it all. You can be excited to see the heartbreaking end of this character’s story that you crafted because you know you put everything you had into it.

These deaths were lazy and the product of a team who didn’t care about the character. Sarah dies and no one cares.

Sure, you leave her to die the first time and Jane does her thing about how you can’t save everyone, she talks about Jaime, and then Luke exposes himself as the fake Luke by agreeing that leaving Sarah behind was probably the right thing. Like what?

Now as much as I hate that first one, the second one is even worse.

For some reason, Sarah is standing in the corner while they’re trying to fight off the walkers instead of being inside with Rebecca... y’know, where she would be if this was logical.

Then the deck breaks and Sarah falls, trapped under a pile of wood. Jane, despite being the one who sees Sarah as a liability, goes down there to try and help her after Clementine begs her to.

But because the writers don’t know what they’re doing, Jane gets hit by a random piece of wood and can’t get Sarah out in time, leaving her to be eaten alive by walkers.

Then AJ is born and no one cares about Sarah ever again.

I just....

Could’ve had an interesting story arc with a character who just lost her father in such a gruesome way, a character that already deals with anxiety and other problems that you never bothered to explain other than “she isn’t like Clementine” and you could’ve had her grow.

But I guess that would’ve taken effort.... and screen time away from Kenny, and god forbid we ever do that.

---

Honorable Mentions

-Ava falling to her death in the most comedic way possible, made even more hilarious by David’s two seconds of mourning. -Omid.... because hope is dead. Do you get it? Hope? is dead? Because Omid means hope? Do you get it?? -Honestly you could put most of S2′s deaths on this list because oh my god. -Ben because I’m still a salty bitch. -I also wanna add Louis and Violet’s deaths on the bridge mostly because they die, Clem is sad for two seconds, Tenn says sorry, and then no one cares. Yeah, yeah, they mourned off screen and I call that lazy bullshit. -Hell, throw Tenn’s death on here, too, for similar reasons-- no one but Louis/Violet and AJ seem to care. Even Clementine is like “whatever” after it happens.

---

Y’know, picking this one seemed like a good idea at the time, but by now I’m just annoyed by all these dumb deaths. So, what are your thoughts? Are there any deaths that make you question the writers that didn’t end up on the list? Do you agree or disagree with my list? Lemme know, we can have a friendly discussion about it.

Have any suggestions for future T5F’s? Feel free to send ‘em in! :D

---

Next week’s T5F Top 5 Favorite Louis Moments

#twdg t5f #twdg clementine #twdg javier #twdg kate #twdg mariana #twdg gabe #twdg david #twdg luke #twdg jane #twdg kenny #twdg nick #twdg sarah #twdg mitch #twdg willy #twdg louis #twdg violet #twdg tenn #after this i need to talk about muh boy #louis content coming next friday

64 notes · View notes

sushiburritonoms · 3 years

Text

I've been having terrible writer's block lately, not enjoying anything I've written, not getting anywhere with WIPs. Poor @darkisrising and @bronze-lorica have had to talk me off edges lately (thanks guys you're the best!). I think I finally have a chapter 3 for Sacred Texts but I'm sitting on it for a while to see if that's the direction I really want to go. I'm soooo sorry for the delay.

In the meantime I was looking through my notes for The Father the Son and the Exile and I found a bunch of scenes I wrote and abandoned as the fic moved in different directions. I figured I'd post some of them because they'll never see the light of day otherwise and because I have nothing else to offer right now.

Originally in Exile, Din and Luke were supposed to make it to Tython. I had them meeting up with Han AND Leia on the planet Ajan Kloss (its the planet Luke and Leia train on in TROS). Its interesting looking back at this, Din and Luke have a different dynamic since I wrote this a long time ago back in March when the story was going in a different direction (I also wrote an homage to one of Writer Owl's fics in the dialogue). I enjoy playful Luke, I don't really write him that often and that's a real shame. Anyways here's wonder wall, enjoy!

Ajan Kloss was a swampy humid hellhole of a planet that no rational, sentient being should visit, let alone enjoy. Of course that meant that Grogu and Luke were comfortable in the sticky humid environment. In fact there was a rare smile stretched across Luke's face and he sounded almost nostalgic as he talked around their campfire.

“There’s a certain type of moss that grows on the trees here that’s edible.”

Din refused to look up at Luke from where he was cleaning their meal. “I’m not drinking any tea you make out of it.”

“It’s more of a garnish?”

Din sighed. “Don’t touch my fish.” He forcefully stuck a stick lengthwise through the fish as an emphasis.

“Grogu should really have more vegetation in his diet. Master Yoda used to eat plants.”

Din snorted. “You’re welcome to try.” It wasn’t like the kid never ate vegetables but they were always fried and covered in spices. That probably wasn’t what Luke was getting at.

“Maybe later. He did eat two whole frogs.” Luke edged himself closer to the fire. “Maybe after this we could swing by Dagobah. You know, assuming we’re not about to trigger some sort of sneak attack or trap. There are tubers I could dig up for him that Master Yoda ate, plus I could pick up more gnarltree bark.”

Din blinked and raised his head up to properly look at Luke. He knew what Luke was doing. He was trying to distract himself with thoughts of the future. It was a tactic Din often used himself--strategize every possible outcome in the hopes the future won’t be as terrifying as it feels.

On the one hand, he was amused and touched by Luke’s continued fixation on Grogu’s eating habits, even if it was hypocritical of Luke given his own poor diet. It reminded Din of some of the older members of the Covert that used to watch Din when he was little. They always used to harass him to eat everything offered to him and gave him sharp nudges when he tried to skip directly to the occasional sweet treat left out for all the foundlings to share. It was very Mandalorian of Skywalker and it felt good. Familiar.

On the other hand, Din really, really didn’t want any more tree bark in the Wayfinder. So Din didn’t really know what to say.

“Hold this.” Din shoved a fish skewer into Luke’s hand. Yeah that worked.

Luke took the skewer with a hint of a smile. “Master Yoda used to eat certain mushrooms too, I think I can safely identify them. Or maybe I could put together an aquarium in the Wayfinder and we could take more frogs with us. I bet I can repurpose one of the smaller cloning cylinders I have in the back and add a filtration system...”

Din shuddered at the thought of living with a cloning vat filled with frogs and the likelihood of frogs, moss and tree bark for dinner several nights a week. Just no. “This is why our people are ancient enemies,” he shuddered. “You live like animals.”

There was silence. Too long of a silence. Din looked up.

Luke was staring at him with a shocked look on his face. “Our people are ancient enemies?” He whispered.

Ah kriff. Din winced. “So I’ve heard.”

“....Oh.” Luke looked crushed. “Nobody told--well. There’s a lot nobody told me,” he sighed. “About being a Jedi.”

Damn damn damn. Din wanted to throw his hands up in the sky.

“I guess that makes sense,” Luke mumbled. He was fiddling with the fish skewer in his hands. “All the other Mandalorians I’ve ever met have tried to capture or kill me. I thought it was just the Bounty…”

“I’m not like other Mandalorians.” Din interrupted, desperate to turn the conversation. It was technically true, probably just not in a way that helped their relationship. Er--their partnership? Their--whatever this was.

“I mean I like you…”

Din froze. What.

“You’re really good at fishing and Grogu loves you. I’d hate to have to kill you.”

Din’s heart restarted in his chest again. Was Luke...messing with him? “You wouldn’t leave a mark.”

Luke blinked up at him innocently and fluttered his damn eyelashes. “I could totally kill you in your sleep.”

The little shit! “I’ll poison your tea.”

“It’s pretty much already poison. I’m immune.”

Heh, true. “Your fish then.”

“I’ll just go grab a frog.”

“You’re staying here and eating my damn fish!”

Luke burst out into sudden loud laughter. It was like a sudden fierce rainstorm in the way it showered over the camp. It startled Grogu, who had been ignoring both of them in favor of playing with some shiny rocks nearby. He tilted his head and then matched Luke’s laughter with a baby chuckle of his own.

“Sorry! I think it's just my nerves talking but that just sounded wrong and so funny--”

Din just shook his head. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out what had set Luke off but he didn’t care. “Crazy Jedi.”

“Trigger happy Mandalorian.” Luke gave him a giant smile. “Hurry up and finish this.” He gave Din back the fish skewer and chuckled again. Despite his comment about his nerves, Luke’s shoulders were relaxed and his legs were spread out comfortably by the fire. Din could stare at his lopsided smile all evening, especially as the sun set and the fire highlighted the delight in his eyes. The sun shone through the lighter parts of Luke’s shaggy long hair. It was now untied from the neat bun it had started in and looked soft and golden in the light.

Stars above help him. Luke was beautiful. Din was tired of denying the thought. He wanted to touch Luke’s face with his bare hands, run his fingers through his hair and that was terrifying. He hadn’t wanted to take off his armor for anyone, besides Grogu, in ages. Maybe with Omera...but this was much different. The feelings he’d had for her were a momentary weakness compared to the colossally bad idea this was to develop an attraction for this damaged Jedi. Din had no idea what tomorrow was going to bring. Even if nothing happened, there was the uncertainty of the next day and the next to worry about. Luke was a marked man and every day there was a chance something could take him out. Take him away. The thought burned in him like a chemical fire inside a reactor. Caged deep inside of him, destructive it released, and burning with an intensity greater than Din could stand.

This was why he never got involved with people before he found Grogu. He didn’t know what to do with the intensity of his feelings and how to fit them into his unpredictable life.

“Din?” Luke’s smile fell slightly. “You ok?”

“..Yeah.” Din did what he always did. He pushed his feelings away and tried to focus on the present. What had they been talking about? Food. He sat and thought for a moment. Maybe...

“I have a contact on Tatooine, from a rural town few people have heard of. Mos Epsa.”

“Mos Eps--I thought that was wiped from the planet years ago.” Luke looked impressed.

“It’s still there.” Din handed Luke a cooked fish skewer and settled back with his own. “We could go there, for a while. We’d be safe. I’m assuming we can both eat Tatooine food.”

Luke picked at his fish. “I do miss blue milk.”

Good. “I’ll add it to the list.”

Luke chuckled. “You have a list?”

“Of safe planets we can stop at. We should have alternatives to the drop pods and not be reliant on the New Republic. My list is probably different from yours so we have more options.” Din stabbed his fish a little harder with his skewer to make his opinion of Luke’s employers known.

The smile on Luke’s face got impossibly wider. “That makes sense...Thank you.”

Din grunted. The smile on Luke’s face was too distracting. Instead he looked down at his food. Oh. Right. Damn.

Luke made the exact realization at the same time. “Sorry! I forgot, I can go back to the ship--”

“Shut up and sit down, Jetti.” Din shook his head. He only hesitated for a half second before he reached up to his helmet and unlatched it. He opened it wide enough to take a bite.

“Or you could do that. Of course.” Luke babbled. He turned his head so he wasn’t looking at Din. Which was sweet. But also meant he wasn’t looking at his food.

“Eat.” Din growled. “All of it.” How was it this hard to feed a grown adult? Grogu gave him less trouble. Gods help Skywalker, Din was about to channel some of the fiercest warriors he knew to get him to eat more.

Luke gave him a mock solute. “Yes sir.”

Din began to reach for his sidearm.

Luke responded with a rather unnecessarily dainty bite of fish.

Din began to unhook his blaster.

Luke nibbled at one edge of a fin.

The blaster powered up.

Luke kriffing licked his fish.

“That’s disgusting.” Din gave up. He couldn’t help it--he chuckled as he powered down his blaster.

“Yeah it is,” Luke stuck his tongue out. “Fish is gross.”

“I thought you said you’d eat anything.”

“I do. I don’t have to like it. I didn’t grow up eating fish, it’s both slimy and spikey at the same time.”

“You eat frogs.”

“You can eat a small frog in one bite! I’ve gotten fish bones stuck in my throat.”

“You’re not supposed to eat the bones.”

“Nobody told me that the first time. What part of ‘raised on a desert planet’ does no one understand?”

“You’re an idiot.”

Luke sat back. “I’m done now, mom. May I go now?”

Din sighed. “No.” He held out another fish skewer.

“You got to be kidding me.”

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

“How hard is the har--YIKES! NO! LETGO! ARGHHH!!!!!”

‘Yup’, Din thought to himself as he held the struggling, still too skinny, Jedi in a headlock. He had it bad and he was going to regret this.

Tomorrow. He’ll regret it tomorrow.

“DJARIN LET ME GO NOW OR YOU’RE GOING IN THE SWAMP!”

Here’s hoping the desert boy could swim.

#Still bummed I never used any of this #Luke the frog eater #lives on a diet of moss leaves and swamp dew #Luke was actually less damaged in this version wtf sb #I made it gayer but also angstier #I miss the exile universe so much #may the writers block end and the words flow soon #have i posted this already?#I feel like I have argh idk #I still like it #The Father the Son and the Exile #sb fics

23 notes · View notes

plus-size-reader · 4 years

Text

Detective Work

Stu Macher x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1218 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Stu’s gf getting really freaked out about the murders, to the point where he has to prove to her that she’ll be safe.

I decided to leave this open ended for now. Comment to let me know how you would react in this situation and that will help influence the reader’s actions in the second part.

——————————————————————————————————

You had been on edge ever since they found Casey Becker all strung up in that tree.

No one could really blame you for that, but that didn’t stop Stu from making a joke out of it every chance he got. He thought the whole thing was hilarious, from the stupid curfew to the strange way everyone was acting.

It was like a game.

However, you just didn’t see the humor in it like he did.

You didn’t think that the chance of being gutted, or stabbed or whatever was something to laugh about. You were terrified, and Stu laughing at you wasn’t going to change that.

“I don’t know, what if it’s someone we’re close to? What if it was someone like Billy?” you reasoned, gesturing over to your friend as some kind of example.

You didn’t really think it was him but he was right there and he made for a good scapegoat for this conversation. No one knew who the killer was, and in a small town, there was a good chance you’d met whoever it was before.

Though, rather than move on from what you were suggesting, Stu laughed again. “Why would he want to kill his own girlfriend?” you had no idea, not really but it did get you thinking.

Whoever committing all these murders had to have a reason. They had to be justifying it to themselves somehow, and that was even more terrifying.

“Shit Stu, I don’t know...what would you want to kill me for?” you wondered, shooting out the hypothetical in hopes that it would somehow help you figure it out.

For all you knew, Stu could be a killer.

...Nah.

You would have known if the man you loved had a secret hobby that just happened to be murder...right?

You hoped that you would.

“I wouldn’t kill you. We have too good of a time together” he grinned, as if that was the only thing keeping him from doing it.

Great, another one of his jokes.

“I’m being serious Stu, I’m scared” you groaned, reaching over the shelf to hit him lightly in the shoulder. You had no idea what he was doing, but this was serious.

Not everything could be a little joke like he tried to make it out to be.

People were dying, and they weren’t going to stop until the cops actually figured out who was doing this.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. But you don’t have to be scared, I got you baby” he assured, this time something different in his eyes. It was a seriousness, a strange confidence that actually did something to help.

As odd as it sounded, you didn’t doubt that Stu could protect you if he had to...not that you ever wanted to have to find out if that was the case or not.

“Thanks, oh-did you remember the chip dip for the party tonight?” you wondered, unsure if he’d grabbed it when you were at the store. The whole thing had been his idea, and as much as you hated it, you knew that you were safer in Stu’s house than you would be alone in your own so you went along with it.

Not that you wanted to really go to a party right now.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. You’re so stressed” he tutted, running his hands over your shoulders to find the muscles there much more tight than they’d ever been before.

You took a deep breath, doing your best to do as he suggested, though you were finding even the simplest of tasks much more difficult than they should have been.

You couldn’t even focus with this intense dread in the air, and the fact that Stu was just being Stu didn’t really do much to help.

His sense of humor and personality were one of the things you loved most about him but you were fully going to lose your mind if he didn’t start trying to be a grown up about it.

People were getting slaughtered, and if you weren't careful, you two could have been on the chopping block.

“Well, it’s not like I don’t have a good reason” you groaned, letting your head roll back as he poked and prodded at the knot in your neck.

You just couldn’t relax, but this wasn’t one of those times that you pushed yourself to a near panic attack over a bad grade on a test or a parking ticket.

This was real life and you were all in danger.

In fact, Stu seemed to be the only person not at all phased by the inevitable doom of this town.

Maybe that should have worried you. Maybe if you would have been paying closer attention in the first place, you would have figured this all out but because you hadn’t been and because you had blind faith in the man you loved, you just hadn’t.

In all fairness though, you didn’t think that you’d ever be having this conversation.

“What did you just say?” you repeated, feeling like in this moment, your heart was liable to beat out of your chest. You had been so in your head, the words that just escaped his lips had only slightly registered.

Stu only shrugged, clearly not understanding why you had your panties in a bunch over this. “I said, you don’t have to worry about it because I know who killed them”

It was so nonchalant, so casual that you almost felt sick to your stomach. How could he know something like that? Why did he know something like that? You had no idea.

...But you weren’t going to get yourself too worked up.

After all, you were sure that this was just another one of Stu’s sick jokes that he pushed a little too far. Sometimes he read the room wrong, and this had to be one of those times.

There was no way that he actually knew who the killer was.

“That isn’t funny, Stu” you scolded, batting him in the arm as aggressively as you could without actually hurting him. You couldn’t believe that he was joking about that. People were dying, and you couldn't believe that he would even venture to suggest that.

You were scared for a very real reason, and he thought it was okay to try and lull you into comfort by suggesting he spent his free time with literal murderers? It was far from funny

Still, Stu didn’t even budge.

He had nothing to hide from you, as far as he was concerned. If anything his biggest mistake was keeping this from you in the first place. If he had told you sooner, you wouldn’t be as worried as you clearly were right now.

It would have been much better if he was more considerate of your feelings from the beginning.

“I’m not kidding Y/N, I know who’s killing them” he repeated, now completely serious, his face straight and stoic.

...Shit.

He was telling you the truth, and now you were in too deep to back out. Assuming that Stu knew exactly who was doing this, why did he keep it to himself?

That was horrible.

You knew that much was true, but the one thing you didn’t know was where to go from here.

369 notes · View notes

canary3d-obsessed · 4 years

Text

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 04 (first part)

(Masterpost) (Episode 03) (Episode 04 second part)

Warning: Spoilers for all 50 episodes!

Also warning: these posts just keep getting longer how are they getting even longer good lord I had to split this one.

School’s in for the Summer!

All of these nice young actors show off the results of their movement training as they beautifully perform prostrate bowing in near-unison. (yes, there is a Chinese word for this action, but it’s used in English in a shitty orientalist way, so OP is going to call this prostrate bowing)

Note that the very last person to hit his knees, by a wide margin, is Head Snob Jin Zixuan.

Lan Qiren looks them over with pleased dickishness.

I am really wondering what actor Huang Ziteng looks like without a struggle beard and mouth blood and chronic fainting.

That's...a lot of crosses, my dude

(more after the cut!)

Lan Clan Rules

The Lan rule set is basically a checklist for shit Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang can get up to this summer.

The rules include several that Lan Wangji is actively breaking this very moment, including “Don’t wear any jangling objects like beads,” “don’t be suspicious,” “don’t pierce your ears” and “don’t be supercilious.”

Wei Wuxian’s Summer Project

Extrovert Wei Wuxian gets started on the important work of making new friends. Waving to Lan Wangji in class doesn't get him anywhere (apparently), but he meets Nie Huaisang and forms one of the most important relationships of his two lives.

He doesn’t even know what they are being mutually squirrely about yet but they are instantly on the same wavelength.

I like you, yeah I like you, and I’m feeling so bohemian like you

When Wei Wuxian discovers that this classmate has smuggled an entire live birb into this boring-ass lecture he is completely delighted, and they are brothers in troublemaking from this point onward.

This is where we learn something important about Nie Huaisang. He wanted a rare canary, so he stalked it for three days, caught it, and caged it.

This careful hunter is 15 or 16...I wonder how much more patient and determined he will be when he's 35 or 36?

The Salute Ceremony: The Unstabby Bit

The Jin Clan starts off the salute ceremony by presenting Lan Qiren with a fancy book bound with gold string.

Wei Wuxian is genuinely impressed, but Jiang Cheng calls it "meretricious" [op looks it up] which means "apparently attractive but having in reality no value or integrity." Wow, Jiang Cheng is so deliciously bitchy.

Then it’s Nie Huasang’s turn. Wei Wuxian is impressed when he hears his name, meaning he befriended him without giving a fuck about who he is, which is sweet. I adore this friendship and think there are so many reasons NHS chose WWX to carry out his vengeance, none of which come from him being the dread Yiling Laozu.

The Salute Ceremony: The Thirsty Bit

To represent the Nie clan, I present this nice pot to Lan Qiran, and this rare and beautiful twink to Lan Xichen

Note: the trash talking jerks in the background are from the Jiang clan. Yanli does not remind them about their manners.

Quiet, reserved Lan Xichen greets Meng Yao with compliments and a hand massage and by doing this thing with his mouth.

No words are being produced at this point, he is just...parting his lips gently while he rakes his eyes over Meng Yao’s face.

Meng Yao doesn’t mind a bit

Flames on the Side of my Face

The Wen Clan guys have left Club Ruohan and are coming to summer school. Wen Chao is evil. It's subtle but you can tell by the way he casually sets people on fire.

Lan Clan Rules for Gate Keepers

do not draw your sword to stop someone from setting you on actual fire

do not use magic to stop someone from setting you on actual file

do not call for help when someone sets you on actual fire

Wens Qing and Ning believe in helping people, so once the smell of burning flesh starts to annoy them, Wen Qing puts out a solid 80% of the flames.

Note: We’re going to be spending a lot of time hating Wen Chao, so now might be a good time to have a look at (actor) He Ping out of costume.

Clearly, Wen Chao is just a beautiful troubled person with pretty moles who totally deserves a second chance.

The Salute Ceremony: The Stabby Bit

The Wens interrupt Jiang Cheng’s salute. Lan Xichen apologizes to them for not knowing they were going to show up like a bunch of interrupting assholes.

Lan Wangji wants to murder Weng Chao and looks at Xichen for permission but Xichen says no.

I never get to murder anybody not even that Su She asshole

So Wei Wuxian starts running the WWX fight book, which has to actually be pretty gratifying for the Lans, who are stuck being good hosts.

He skips the windup in this situation of heightened danger, so he is formal, polite, and doesn't cross any boundaries. But Wen Chao came looking to fight so it escalates immediately, with Jiang Cheng also getting in Wen Chao’s face.

The Wen Clan decides to teach the Jiang Clan a lesson. This is really the seed of the Lotus Pier massacre...it was always going to happen. The Wens draw swords and almost the entire Jiang Clan immediately draws as well.

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng both use the same sexy move, kicking their swords up off their benches into their hands.

Nie Huaisang hides behind Meng Yao, who immediately uses his whole body to shield him and shows a bit of his titanium spine. I LOVE Meng Yao’s strength here.

Wen Qing protects her brother by putting her arm across his chest, which is not going to be helpful in any way if someone wants to stab him.

To end this urgent and dangerous standoff Lan Xichen slooooowly brandishes his flute and plays a little toodleoo for 15 full seconds, eventually causing all the swords to fly up to the ceiling and then down into the floor.

{I know, flautists, I know. Never let facts get in the way of a joke!]

Everyone politely allows him to do this without actually taking any swipes at each other. Then the swords all magically vanish along with the holes they made in the floor, which is convenient.

Now we get to see Lan Xichen angry, and oh my god, the tiny glimpse of that secret fire.

Now Wen Qing finally steps up to defuse the situation. She cannot believe she has to work with her boss's horrible stupid son who insists on fucking up every project, god why did he ever get made a vice president I can't believe I have to work with this tool.

Meanwhile, Lan Xichen is going to rue the day he introduced Wei Wuxian to Flute Magic.

Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang 4-EV-R

After the ceremony Nie Huaisang, calling Wei Wuxian “Wei-Xiong” (brother Wei, a bit more formal than -ge) praises his bravery. Wei Wuxian says that he enjoys resisting evil, harking forward to his chivalric calling & future promise with Lan Wangji.

Jiang Cheng says, without irony, I think, and with only a little bitterness, that normal people can't compare to Wei Wuxian’s bravery. Wei Wuxian downplays his courage and says that he wants to teach Nie Huaisang to have fun.

Now - hopefully we've all seen Fatal Journey, right? I won't spoil it here. But if you've seen it you know that a person who gives Nie Huaisang permission to be his true self is going to be precious to him.

Lan Wangji shows up and Wei Wuxian calls out to him, calling him "Ji-Xiong." Lan Wangji totally blows him off but Wei Wuxian is undeterred.

Xichen and Qiren Talking.

Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren talk about this whole Wen situation while Qiren pours some tea that appears to just be hot water. Dude.

Qiren is afraid this murdering of cultivators is going to be something the two of them can't handle. You think? There are already about 16 dead cultivators in the mosh pit at Club Ruohan; at what point are you planning to handle it?

This Ship is Sailing

Meng Yao comes to say goodbye to Lan Xichen and to trade hearts with him. Also to have a lot of feelings that his giant eyes and adorable dimples cannot contain.

Lan Xichen: Don't bow to me. No need to thank me like this. We’re equals. As equals we could take turns kneeling to each other, if you catch my drift.

Lan Xichen: Why not stay for several days? Oh if you're Nie Mingjue's boy I guess I have to let you go. He's great. Really. SO great.

Lan Xichen: Look, you’re with Nie Mingjue and I’m with Nie Mingjue and it only takes one stroke to turn a Vee into a triangle, is what I’m saying.

Grown-ass man Lan Xichen is so much less prudent than his teenage brother. Each of them has fallen hard for someone but the much younger Wangji tries to control it. Hopeless romantic Xichen goes right over the cliff, as well as deliberately knocking away many of the fences around Wangji’s heart so Wei Wuxian can make a home there. We love him for it, of course.

Episode 04, Part 2 is right here.

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #chen qing ling #the untamed stills #restless rewatch the untamed #lan xichen #meng yao #chenyao #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #the untamed spoilers #restless rewatch #the untamed meta

347 notes · View notes

thewritingstar · 3 years

Text

The Sun Sets With You

Pairing: Blossutch

Fandom: Powerpuff Girls

Rating: T

Word count: 6k

Warnings: Major Character Death.

Note: I am so excited to finish this fic! Thank you so much to @creativecilla for commissioning time and time again. She asked for a sad and angsty fic so I hope I delivered! (She also asked for a happy fic so dont worry that's coming soon)

Don't worry there will be a little bonus after this so don't come for my throat too hard.

Anyways, I hope that you enjoy this because I had the time of my life writing it while crying.

Thanks for reading <3

(the italicized is flashbacks just in case ya confused :)

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

“Your love is like a sunset, the longer I wait, it slowly fades into the sea, making a beautiful distraction, As loneliness and despair creep from behind like the shadow of the night.” -Albion Gremory

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

The gate waits patiently for her to cross. It's black and shiny as if it were polished just for her. She has been here for almost an hour and yet she hasn't moved an inch. The bouquet of flowers she spent just as long picking out are starting to get annoyed by her lack of movement and although they don’t have a voice or emotions, she can tell they are growing weary too.

She doesn’t understand. Why couldn’t she simply walk forward and make this easy? She was a trained assassin, a spy at the very core where nothing could challenge her except for this field of grass. Grass that is bright green and thriving yet underneath its healthy roots, is a minefield of bodies. It's odd to think about. The care and water used to make sure that the green is at its brightest and the stone looks nice but in reality, it won’t matter.

Nothing matters anymore.

Her grip tightens on the poor flowers. A frail red ribbon holds them together instead of being wrapped in her ginger hair where it belongs. The last time she wore it was the day...it's been a while.

The cemetery has a familiar feel to it. She’s been here before. She has been here many times and has even memorized the grounds. However, this time is much more...intimate. A much more personal experience.

It was never personal because in her line of work, this was normal and happened often. You would come into the office and hear about the poor sucker that got shot, stabbed or blown to bits, grab a hopefully fresh cup of coffee and make sure that you don’t end up the same as them. It was all a part of the job to join the unavoidable circle of life.

Before it was just people whose identities changed day in and day out to avoid this particular outcome. To avoid becoming worm food and having fresh flowers at the bottom of your name. Death never meant anything to her but an end we all have to face. It never meant to stop and think about your life because she didn’t have one to live.

There was no glory waiting for her back home as she finished another mission. There was no dream to achieve because she plagued those of her mind years ago. Warmth and desire from others could not be tolerated. It was dangerous to have anyone close to you but hurt even more when they were gone.

Her dreams had been swept into the night and burned like a fallen star. They were meant for rare quiet days where she could close her eyes and have a glimpse of another chance at life and then it would be over and she couldn’t allow anyone to hold her back. But just as there are dreams, nightmares will surface too.

This was a nightmare only for her eyes. It was common for members of their work to come and pay respects if they got time but for this, she asked that she would be the first. And only then was anyone else allowed.

The months that ate away at her aching heart caused her to be the opposite. She said she had gone, said her dues and the rest followed. Her lies now corrupted her normal life, if you could even call it normal.

So she became the last person and perhaps that's for the best. Even in death, she keeps him waiting. But unlike the other times, he couldn’t leave or say anything about it. The silence of the coffin was enough for her to know that she might get the last words like always but she doesn’t want them.

She would rather keep her words to herself, her mouth stapled shut than utter the last words. She also knew that he would rather listen to her all day than have a moment of silence.

So here she is. A little black dress that poofs out gently at the bottom just above her knees. It was the same dress she had worn on their mission in Italy years ago. It had ended up on the hotel bathroom floor much sooner than expected, however this time the smell of sandalwood and pine had been washed out.

She feels like a housewife ready to see her lost husband coming back from the war in the form of a corpse. The only difference is her vision won’t include the golden bands. Her thumb grazes her ring finger feeling nothing but bare skin and it pains her to think that she was so close. So close to a dream.

She inhales and exhales. Her ability to control her emotions is unlike anyone else. If she chooses to be a stone wall, then nothing will make her crumble. For years she had seen bloodshed and violence. Encountered dangerous people and never once had a hard time sleeping.

Steps take her closer and she feels herself start to decay brick by brick.

Every breath comes out colder and slower and she doesn’t have to look to know she's right in front of it because all the oxygen surrounding her has left and replaced with a frosted void she's grown used to over these past few months.

“Hello.” Her voice is firm and polite.

Formal. She’s too formal and she can practically feel him rolling in his grave to tell her to die it down. Die it down. She hums at that thought and complies with the request that wasn’t even asked but she knows him.

Her feet slip out of her heels, the ones he had bought randomly. The ones she had danced in as he spun her slowly. Her toes feel the dew on the grass. She hates the feeling, her exposed skin starts to itch and irritate her but that just reminds her of her beating heart. So she forces herself to rest on her knees but keeps her eyes shut. Bravery was never something she lacked.

But being brave with her vulnerable emotions had never come easy.

“Just open them.” She scolds herself. No one is around but she feels like the entire world is staring at her.

This isn't work.

This isn’t a mission.

This is him.

Slowly her eyes flutter open to reveal the truth she tried to conceal. The wall inside of her has fallen. There's a suffocating way about this all. She's a woman of logic, a see it before believe it kind-of-person. It's a crumbling mess that turns her into ruins.

And that's when it hits her.

Like the fall of Rome, there are no survivors. There is no happy ending here. Everything leads to Rome...everything leads to heartbreak eventually.

Tears overwhelm everything else. Blossom Utonium has cried for a fallen coworker but never once had she had to grieve and take in the burden of her heart growing dark and heavy.

Her fingers clench the soil. She didn’t want to cry. Didn’t want to sob, not at the risk of seeming weak, but to actually force herself to come to terms with it. To see it written in stone as literal as it comes.

Butch Jojo is dead.

There’s no other way to put it. No soft angle to come at. No lessening the blow because she was there and saw it with her own eyes. No one had to tell her because she relieved it every time her eyes closed.

How was she supposed to go on? He was the piece of her puzzle that fit so neatly and perfectly. She didn’t realize that the picture became indecipherable the moment he was removed. She clawed at that table trying to put back all the pieces. Trying to figure out where they all go but she's left with segments that don’t seem to fit any longer.

He was her sun and moon, the day and night and every other cliche slapped onto an overpriced Hallmark card. He was it all, and now he is gone. Gone too soon and she barely had him in the first place.

The gravestone itself is simple. It's the only one on the lot that isn't decorated by a three foot high statue or a giant cross. It's as basic as they come yet the man it was for was far from it. There was no luxury of filling the coffin with a body. So every bit of him was taken physically and metaphorically from her.

His name is in an elegant cursive and his birth name. Something most people didn’t know. Usually spies and assassins change up their name to make their identity untraceable. She had known him as many different names, but Butch was the only one who she cared about. The only one to ever make her feel like herself.

Her fingers hover above the engraving before setting on the coldness and tracing it with the tip of her index finger. It takes her breath away like an old candle finally burning out.

She wonders if a cruel joke is being played on her as she stares at the curls of the cursive. It was the same font she had chosen for their makeshift wedding invitations the moment she realized that he was the one. Of course he would have had comic sans or some heavy metal font on his tombstone if he was given the chance just to spite everything and everyone.

She's sure that this was already made far before his death. In fact, she's convinced that everyone already has a grave with their name stored somewhere in the back for fast and easy access. Hers is probably waiting and collecting dust.

“Hi.” She utters, less formal than the first time and that felt like ages ago. “For the first time, I’m speechless.” She confesses. “I’m not quite sure what to say.”

For days she sat underneath her flickering desk light writing a speech for a funeral that no one would attend.

The words never came into place even though she deemed herself a thoughtful writer. But what do you say when the person who gave you a reason to speak is gone? Was there anything worth uttering when she couldn’t bring herself to do it?

But she wrote. She wrote everything she had felt and ended with a flood of pages on her desk. Pens with tired ink cartridges littered her desk and endless chicken scratched papers were tossed away. It needed to be thoughtful and inviting but in reality, it just needed to be the words she never said.

The moment she finished writing them, she threw them into a box to never see the light of day. But when she finally had the courage to come and pay her respects, she became drawn to them. Her mind fought with her hands to take them even if she decided to keep them in her purse.

Her purse opens and she takes out a few pages. The ones that made her heart ache the most and that are decorated with stains of dried tears. She clears her throat. “The first time I met you, I thought nothing of it. It was in front of the coffee maker at work, you had just joined our firm and you walked by, glanced at me and then you were gone into the other room. That was it. That's what we were meant to be. A simple meeting of the eyes and then we don’t interact again.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

The coffee drips way too slow, she thinks. A state of the art facility full of lasers, guns and cars and they couldn’t be bothered to get something just slightly better. The mug finishes filling just in time for her patience to run out. She grabs it and turns to look out towards the rows of cubicles that make it seem like a simple office.

Instead of a bored coworker looking tired at a computer, she's met with green eyes and an emotionless face. For a second she saw his lips turn into a smirk. It's quick. A match striking the box with a flame igniting on impact. And then it’s dropped in water and out just as fast. He's gone by the time she blinks next and even though it was nothing, those eyes fueled a fire she wasn’t sure she had.

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

“But then I kept seeing more and more of you.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

“You clean up nice.” Blossom turned to see a guy. She recognized him from last week, a new transfer who she only caught a glance at. He was in a highly expensive tux and was adjusting the equally priced watch on his wrist.

“I assume you must be my new partner.” She said as she mentally analyzed him slowly. Slicked black hair, looks as if he goes to the gym quite often, hands looks steady for a firearm. Green. Forest green eyes.

He smiled. “Must be.”

“You can call me Amanda.” Her fake name suited her fine as she checked the time. “I hope that you read over the files of our mission.”

“I tend to skim and wing it.” He winked and that irked her. “Matts fine for the evening.”

Blossom, or Amanda for now, kept her eyes from rolling and walked to him and wrapped her arm around his. “You might be my husband for this mission but if you fuck up, you better be thankful this isn’t legally bounded.” She finished with a flutter of her eyelashes and a smile before pulling him along.

She didn’t get too far before he pulled her back and her bright pink eyes met deep green ones closely. “I take my job very seriously. But I wouldn’t dream of making you mad at me. But on the other hand, I admire strong women.”

She didn’t know why she didn’t smack him in the face. Usually every partner who has tried to flirt or mess with her learned the hard way that is a no no. Yet, even after moments of knowing him, there was something genuine about him that she couldn’t quite understand but became interested in.

“Glad to see we are on the same page Matt.”

“Of course Amanda.” Butch replied and held out his hand. “After you.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

The trees nearby moved in the breeze without a care in the world. They had nothing to care for except for their leaves changing in the fall and losing them in the winter. But leaves always came back, they always blossomed and started a new life and were the same tree no matter how many times the seasons passed.

She wondered if those trees ever felt heartbreak or if it was easier to lose something when you know it will come back to you with time. She envied those trees. Envied the way that they can continue their lives just growing and flourishing and it felt like her leaves were turning to dust as she was being cut down.

From her purse she pulled out a thermos and two plastic cups. She nestled one into the ground as she poured the wine into the cup and then one into hers.

“I never cared for this brand of wine before I met you.” She smiled softly and took a sip. “Never cared for a lot of things. Yet this was your favorite and everytime we had a mission, I could always find you relaxing with a glass. I guess it became an acquired taste over time. You became my taste.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

“Care for a glass?” He asked her as she sat in front of the fireplace.

Due to them working together for more than a year, the agency decided that personal rooms weren’t necessary and if anyone were to see them leave together and follow, it would fit with their stories.

Blossom looked up from the book she just pulled out. A dissatisfying glare focused on the bottle in his hand. “No thanks, that stuff is garbage.”

Butch, or well, Sebastian for the evening, scoffed. “Garbage?” He exclaimed dramatically. “This is some of the finest wine in the world.”

“I’ve had better.”

“It's from Italy!”

“I prefer local or even cheap box wine to that.” Blossom scanned her book.

Butch only huffed again but still proceeded to pour two glasses and joined her on the floor.

“I said I didn’t want any.”

“I think you just haven’t had it with the right company.” He smirked and offered her the glass.

She rolled her eyes and took the glass, her book forgotten now. Blossom brought the glass to her lips, took a sip and tried her best to hold back a grimace. “It's fine.”

He only shook his head and drank his own glass, the small smile on his lips never leaving. “Butch.”

She turned the glass in her hand then glanced at him. “What?”

“Butch. That's my name, my real name.”

Her heart started beating quicker. “Why are you telling me this? You shouldn’t be.”

It was a common understanding. You might know the face of your partner or colleagues but a name and identity was off the table. The only thing anyone needed to track down someone was a name. And the moment it's out there, you can start counting your days.

Butch shurgged and downed the rest of his wine. “Not sure. Never told anyone before. Well anyone who I didn't know beforehand. But there's something about you. I don’t think you fully trust me. I get it of course. I don’t trust people at all.”

“So why tell me?” She questioned.

His eyes met hers. Seriousness washed across his face and any hint of amusement was gone. “I have no one in my life who knows me as Butch anymore. Only myself and my thoughts. And after years in this shit business-you’re the only partner I’ve had that I trust with my life.”

Her fingers tighten around the stem of the glass. Her poor heart is beating much faster; she's sure he can hear it. She’s never had a partner like him. Never met a person who she blindly trusted like this.

“Blossom.” She blurts out. “My name is Blossom.”

And that smirk returns and his eyes soften. She's seen him kill a man before and yet he looks so incredibly soft and honest.

“That's a pretty unique name.”

“My father told me it was because of cherry blossom trees.” She smiles at the memory. She reaches and takes the brown contact from her eyes. Her main defying feature that no one but the higher ups knew about.

Her eyelashes flutter as she places them in the contacts case. She looks back at Butch and prepares for the intergation look.

It never comes.

Instead he's looking at her as if she's the most interesting thing in the world. Pastel pink eyes greet his own and he's taken back and tries to keep these emotions down.

“Its weird I know-

“You’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met.” He interrupts. “And I swear I’m not drunk.

That flicker resurfaced. The match struck the box but the flame was held much longer this time. Her reaction surprised the both of them as she laughed and her smile reached her eyes, something they haven’t done naturally in years.

She controlled her laugh and hummed bringing the glass to her lips and taking another sip. It wasn’t as bad as the first. “And you are very-”

“Charming? Irresistible?”

“Interesting.” She finished.

The bottle poured more wine into his glass and he tapped it to hers. “I’ll take it for now.” He winked.

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

Her glass is empty now. She pours the glass for him into the soil, hoping to give him one last taste of what he loved.

“Over the years I forgot myself, you have to.” Blossom tells him. “I forgot my passions and hobbies. The simple pleasures of life were taken from me when I joined this path.”

The books on her shelf at home had collected dust over the years. The pages stuck as the days passed but only recently did she find herself opening them, even to just a random page and basking in the tiny shred of warmth it gave her.

“I felt those pleasures rise with you. Even buying a simple candle because you said you liked the scent brought me a joy I hadn’t noticed was missing. I was missing everything in life because I didn’t have a light to guide me.”

She bites her lips hoping to stop another sob. How many tears can a person shed in a short amount of time? When do they stop and allow the body to rest?

“That first time you kissed me.” Her voice cracks. “That's when I started believing that life could be more than what we were conditioned to do.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

Her feet ached. Her heels were in her hands and she was tired from another successful work day. After six months of locating and sniffing out an underground drug market, they finally caught the group of men.

She glanced at her shoes and dress, irritated that the blood ruined another perfectly good outfit. She wanted to just get into her room, take a bath and pass out on her bed and to not be distrubed for at least seventy two hours.

She got to her hotel door and started to search for her key.

“Oh shit.” She grumbled. Her purse was nowhere in sight.

“Here.”

Blossom turned to see Butch holding the desginer bag.

A sigh of relief left her lips as she took it and fished out the key card. He leaned against the wall, clearly tired and wanting to rest like her. Two years they had been partners. The longest partnership she’s had and she wasn’t complaining. Usually they shared a room on missions but they had separate rooms this time.

“Tired?” She glanced at him.

“No, I'm fully awake.” He said sarcastically. “I feel like I got hit by a freight train.”

“I’m sure those guys thought they did too when you punched them.” Her door clicked open but she didn’t move.

“Oh please, you did most of the heavy lifting. I mean who takes down a giant dude with a high kick in heels.” He was practically beaming with pride from the memory. “Badass stuff Bloss.”

She was sure there was a blush on her cheeks. Shaking those thoughts from her head she smiled and opened the door. “Goodnight Butch.”

“Night.”

…

“Isn’t this the part where you walk into your room?” He raises a bow that is answering the silent question she asked.

She straightens her back. “Shouldn’t you be walking to yours?”

He moves closer to her. Brushing the hair on her shoulders off and there's a buzz throughout her as his fingers graze her shoulders.

He's closer now. Their lips only inches apart and although her body is killing her and aching, she can’t help but let her mind wander.

“I prefer the view right here.” He says in almost a whisper that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand. “And possibly even the taste.”

His lips press against hers. They have kissed many times in front of people on missions but it's never been like this. Never a sign that everything she had been feeling, wanting could be hers for the taking.

It's not fast and heated. It's slow as if he's testing out the waters that he can glady swim in. It's a sign that they know they shouldn’t be doing this but for once, she's playing by a different set of rules.

They break apart. The kiss wasn’t very long but the sparks linger and scorch through her body. She's afraid to look at him now. Afraid that rejection and everything she had told herself not to want, can’t be hers. The ground should just swallow her whole now.

She feels a hand softly touch her cheek and she looks up at him. This look on his face, she can't describe it. She can see the gears turning in his head, wondering if this was a mistake just as she thought.

But rejection never comes. He doesn’t pull or push away.

Instead his lips turn slightly up. “I know we fight for the greater good, but I’m starting to think I have a different purpose.”

“What?” She questions.

“You.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

She could have sworn it's only been a few minutes but the sky’s blue had morphed into a dusty pink. A wonderful sunset that she is surprised she can still find beauty in. She knows she’ll have to leave soon. She is afraid that when she does, she might not come back.

One of the final happy moments with him was weeks before his death. Five years they had known each other and it was all washed down the drain.

Her head turns towards the sky as she basks in the sunset. “I hope that wherever you are there are still skies like these.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

Sunsets in Hawaii were much better in person than any photo could capture.

“Another successful mission.” Blossom giggles as she takes a sip of her mai tai. Her feet are swaying above the water and the breeze flows through her hair. She hasn’t remembered being this peaceful but she could get used to it.

“Yeah.” Butch says as he downs his drink.

Five years she's known him. Every action and mannerism he's done is burned in her memory. It's the most priceless information she has, the most important because it's all hers.

He seems calm, she admits. But something is on his mind. He's not thriving in the glory of another mission or running around crazy and jumping into the ocean like the days before. He seems to be in deep thought. Something she's not quite sure she likes.

The horizon catches her eyes. “The sky is pretty.” She adds.

“Runaway with me.”

The movement of the waves stops. The breeze halts and her eyes widen.

“What?” She turns towards him. “Runaway?”

He nods. “Runaway from this place and all its madness. We could get married, travel the world, anything you want.” He took her hand. “I don’t care where we go. I just want to be with you.”

“With me?” She's practically speechless.

Butch cracks a smile. “Only you. Imagine this.” He scoots closer to her and wraps his arm around her shoulder. “A house on private property, hell maybe even a beachfront. You have your own little library and I’ll even get you a nice espresso machine. A garden with all the flowers you could imagine and even a baby grand piano since I know how much you love to play.”

The images flood her mind. “That sounds lovely.”

“And you wanna know the best part?” He asks.

She nods her head. “Tell me.”

“I would get to wake up each morning with you in my arms.” He smirks and kisses her softly.

“That would be the best part.” She hums against his lips. Her stomach then drops. “But we can’t.”

“Three good reasons.”

She tried to think. How could she leave the agency she's been in since she was a kid? How could she throw everything away? These feelings she had were all muddled into a mess that she didn’t know how to get out of. That vision he told her sounded like a dream.

That's what this was. A dream. Something she wasn’t allowed to have. But she wanted it.

Butch sighed. “I guess it's easier for me cause I’m selfish.” He smiled softly at her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Whatever choice you make, as long as I can still be by your side, is fine by me.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

Blossom looks at the notes in her hands then back to the stone.

“I’m sorry Butch.” She cries and crumples them. Tears overwhelm her once again but she doesn’t wipe them or try to stop it. She is a dam that's been holding it all for too long. Holding her emotions for years and she was tired.

“Everyone told me to come here to get closure, but I don't want that. I want to feel the emptiness and shallowness. I want to cry myself to sleep and wish I could hold you again. It's torturous and cruel to think like that but it means that it was real. And that it was mine. This-” She beats her fingers against her chest, against her heart. “This is yours.”

“I am sorry Butch. I vowed to never let my heart act over my head. And that is something I regret deeply. You were right. You always have been. You wanted me without hesitation and I’m sorry I was guarded. But I swear when I was with you I wasn’t.”

The laughter and joy he brought her. She felt like she was breathing for the first time around him and even in the most serious situations there was still an element of peace.

“I had hoped that I would never have to say this. Never had to face this reality because it's too painful. I tried to deny it all, even though I watched it happen. Maybe if I had never let myself be charmed by you, I could avoid all these feelings but we both know that you were just so-’ She bites a laugh. “Irresistible.”

Her voice got louder as her sobs grew. “Every single moment was worth it. Your eyes and your smile. The way you knew what I was thinking even though no one else could ever know. I treated it like our job but the truth is, I wanted you to figure me out so I could finally tell myself it's okay to be happy. That's what you were Butch. My happiness.”

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

This can’t be happening, she thought. Never in her entire career had she been kidnapped and captured. She was careful and guarded but they got the best of them this time.

The gag in her mouth was doing its job and her wrists were bound behind her back. The cold chill ran up her spine as she watched the men drag him in front of her. He was a few feet away and his face was covered in blood and bruises.

“Only one of you makes it out alive.” The man said.

She tried to pull against the restraints but felt the cool metal touch the back of her head.

“No moving sweetheart.” She heard behind her.

She watched as they removed Butch’s gag and he choked on the air before his hair was pulled and he was forced to look at her.

Those dark green eyes met with frightened brown but he knew that below the color was a brilliance of magenta that he adored.

He should be scared and terrified. And he was. But looking at her even in this state, he felt a sense of happiness wash over him. Everything he never thought he could have was right there in front of him.

Tears fell from her eyes as she watched the man stab him in the stomach. The knife plunged into his flesh and Butch let out a horrifc cry as she screamed into the gag.

“Dying words buddy?” The man laughed as he pulled out a gun and held it up to head.

Even through the pain shooting through his body, he looked at her with tears in his eyes.

His lips turned into a smile, even with blood coating his teeth. “Blossom-” He coughed.

No.

Please No!

She wanted to scream and tell him that she takes it all back. She wanted her dress and the ring. She wanted their own house and a piano where she could play for him.

Everything. She wanted everything.

She wanted him.

“I love you.” He says.

BAM!

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

Her breath catches in her throat as she sees it. The blood and the life leaving his eyes. It replays and she tries to stop the memory.

“Could you ever forgive me?” She sobs. “Forgive me for not telling you?”

Her hand presses against the gravestone. She's not sure what she's hoping for but it's cold.

“You said it moments before your death and I couldn’t even let you die with that. Yet through that you smiled at me. You fucking smiled as death was taking you faster than I could realize because you knew. I couldn’t say it. No matter how much I wanted to tell you, I was afraid that the moment I did, this would happen. I wasn’t prepared to lose you. I wasn’t ready to face a life where I would spend every waking moment wondering if waking up next to you was truly real or a dream.”

Anger rises in her. Anger at the world and the men who killed him. Angry at the agency who turned the other eye when he died. There was nothing for her there anymore. She realized it way too late that she was robbed of everything from this life. Robbed of having him because she was afraid.

“I don't get it. How did you make me want that so bad? How you took my heart and made it beat faster than ever before. You told me to be selfish so here it is. I want you. I want you back and alive so that I can go and buy that white dress. I want everything you said.”

The anger bubbling shifts. It lingers but she takes a deep breath. It won’t help her to be angry or to bring him back. That sorrow takes its hold over her again. It's sad but calming as she tries to reason with herself that he is gone. She knows closure won’t come but she's okay with that.

“But that's not the reality anymore. I can’t change the past but I won’t change the future either. I am deeply and madly in love with you Butch. You gave me a glimpse of what a normal and fulfilling life could be and I thank you for that. Thank you for giving me slices of happiness and making me feel like I was worth loving.”

She reaches into her purse one last time and pulls out a letter and a box. “I resigned and I bought myself a ring.” She opens it and slips on the silver band with a small opal. “It's silly I know, not even a wedding ring. I hope you don’t mind. I stole one of the gems from your watch to make it.” She cries.

“They took all your stuff you know.” Her hands quiver as she stares at her ring. “They took every part of you like it was nothing, like you didn’t exist at all. The watch was all I could get.”

The sun is now setting and the breeze picks up. She's not cold anymore, and can't feel anything.

“They’ll kill me, I'm sure of it. That's what happens when you leave. And when they do, I better see you on the other side. A place where we can watch the sunset and have our little home. A place where this emptiness inside me can be whole again. I just want a place where I can love you.”

The glasses and letters go back into her purse. The flowers lay with her ribbon at the base as she stands and dusts off her dress.

She finally wipes her tears and forces a wonderful soft smile. “You were the most charming and wonderful man I have ever had the honor of working with. But most importantly, you were proof that dreams could come true.”

She touches the stone one last time. Feels the coolness but it's not as frightening. She's not afraid anymore. Blossom takes a step back and her eyes dance over his name one last time. She slips on her heels and grabs her purse.

“Goodbye my love.” She says and makes her way across the grass to the black gate.

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

I hope you enjoyed!

#blossutch #blossom x butch #ppg fic #angst #blossutch fic #thewritingstar

17 notes · View notes