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xutokawa · 3 years

Note

ooooo the s/o finding scratch marks is sooo good:0 more pleaassseeee🤲🏻🤲🏻 maybe like samu and iwa too? but anyones fine really<33

pairings: osamu x reader, iwazumi x reader

genre(s): fluff to angst, cheating

warnings: langauge, cheating, allusions to smut

wc: 3k

» masterlist

a/n: hehehehehe yes!! thank you so much for requesting this. I got a little carried away and i really like how they turned out! hope you enjoy!

atsumu and oikawa ver.

kuroo and sakusa ver.

suna and bokuto ver.

akaashi and hinata ver.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Osamu

You sighed happily as you settled into your seat, getting ready for take off. Going home to Osamu after a two week business trip was the only thing on your mind, wanting nothing more than to run back home and into your boyfriend’s arms. Two more hours, and you would be in his warm embrace once again.

Little did you know while you fantasized about returning home to your first love, he was indulging in another, lowly moaning out their name, pushing the thought of you to the back of his head.

It wasn’t until you ran into Osamu’s arms at the airport did he start to feel the guilt creeping up from his infidelity. He knew it was wrong, to try and physically replace you for the time being. Osamu just missed your touch, seeking comfort any way he could. Seeing your burning smile, he decided he would never tell you. You were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, and telling you of what happened would ensure that you would never be his again.

Once the two of you arrived back at your shared apartment, you immediately plopped down on your bed, exhausted from traveling. Osamu chuckled as he came behind you, laying down next to you, pulling you into his arms.

“How was your trip, baby?” Osamu mumbled into your hair.

“It was okay, I just mostly missed you the whole time,” you replied, snuggling into his chest. A pang of guilt hit Osamu once again. You had missed him as much as he missed you, yet all you could think about was waiting until you got home to him while he had given into his urges.

Seeing Osamu visibly troubled, you asked him, “I think the real question is if you’re alright, Samu.”

Startled, he quickly came up with a cover up, “Yeah, just tired from running the shop, same ‘ole things,” he sighed out.

Giggling, you got up, pushing Osamu to roll onto his stomach, straddling his lower back.

Chuckling along with you, Osamu asked, “What are you doing, babe?”

“Giving you a massage, duh? My poor boyfriend has been working so hard while I was gone. It’s only right to give him a massage as the best girlfriend in the world,” you joked, rubbing his shoulders.

“You don’t have to give me a massage to be the best girlfriend in the world, you’re already the best without trying,” Osamu chuckled into the mattress.

Rolling your eyes, you replied, “Stop complaining, Samu. Let me have an excuse to touch your muscles.” You started moving your hands lower on his back, lightly rubbing as you went down. Worried filled your features as Osamu let out a small hiss as your hands moved lower.

“What’s wrong, does it hurt there?” You asked, beginning to lift up his shirt. Panic flashed through Osamu as he realized his escapade must’ve left scratch marks on his back, quickly flipping you two around.

“It’s nothing, babe. C’mon, let’s go start preparing dinner,” Osamu nervously let out, hoping you would go along with his lie. He knew he hadn’t fooled you.

“Lift up your shirt, Samu, let me see,” worry evident on your face. You thought he had maybe gotten hurt at work, wanting to see the damage.

“Y/n, stop, it’s fine,” Osamu stated, his tone turning more pleading. You grew more and more suspicious. Why was he getting so defensive?

“Osamu, take your shirt off,” You said, standing up, crossing your arms. Osamu gulped, knowing you were getting serious using his full name.

“It’s fine, really, let’s just go get dinner, we can worry about my back later,” Osamu tried to divert your attention, hoping his final attempt would work. You didn’t buy it.

“I’m starting to think you’re hiding something from me, Samu,” you shot back, wondering what had him so adamant to not show you, “take your shirt off right now or I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight,” you threatened, hoping it would make him give in.

“I'll show you after dinner babe, let’s go,” Osamu said, standing up, walking to the door. Sighing, you gave in, following him out. Halfway to the kitchen, however, you grabbed the bottom of his shirt, lifting it up.

Your heart dropped at the sight.

No wonder this bastard didn’t want to show you.

Startled, Osamu whirled around, eyes wide as if he were a deer caught in headlights. Words began tumbling from his mouth.

“Wait, y/n, I know how it looks, but let me explain, please,” Osamu reached out to you, hurt flashing across his face when you flinched away from him.

“Don’t touch me, you cheating bastard,” You seethed out, eyes burning with a mixture of hurt and hatred, “I’m gone for two weeks and you go and fuck someone else?”

“No, y/n, please! I just missed you too much, but no one could ever replace you! I love you, y/n please!” Osamu continued pleading, eyes growing glassy at the thought of you leaving him.

“Oh shut up, Osamu. You’re not the only one in this relationship. Do you not think I missed you too? I wanted to be with you every second I was gone, but I didn’t go fuck someone else while I was gone,” you yelled out, tears welling up in your eyes.

Osamu walked closer to you, reaching out to you again, “I know, y/n, I fucked up, but please, we can work this out, you’re the only one for me-”

A loud smack sounded in the room as the sting settled on Osamu’s cheek. You began walking towards him, anger seething, “I’m the only one for you, huh? Tell me, Miya, did you fuck them right here? Did you fuck them on our bed?” An indescribable pain seared through Osamu at the use of his last name. Not giving him a chance to reply, you continued, “Or did you fuck them on our couch, the kitchen counter perhaps? You disgusting asshole!” You spat out the last word.

Osamu opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Tears flowed freely down both of your faces, both equally hurting.

“Please, y/n, I’ll do anything to make it up to you!” Osamu began sobbing. Darkly chuckling, you replied, “Do anything for me? How about you pack your shit and get the fuck out, Miya.” Osamu’s heart clenched, knowing he thoroughly fucked up.

“I can’t lose you, y/n. You mean everything to me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, please don’t do this,” Osamu’s mind ran wild, not being able to handle you leaving him.

“Fine, if you won’t leave, I will,” you started for the bedroom, grabbing your suitcase you had yet to unpack from your trip along with your essentials. Osamu felt his world crumble around him as you brushed past him, walking towards the apartment door. He ran after you, grabbing your wrist as you were about to open the door.

Osamu’s eyes widened with shock as you whirled around, wrenching your wrist out of his hand.

“Don’t you dare fucking touch me, Miya Osamu. Don’t you dare tell me you fucking love me, and don’t you dare try to tell me you wanted to spend the rest of you life with me,” you spat out, “because if you truly meant any of those things, you wouldn’t have fucked someone else while I was away, worrying if you were sleeping and eating properly, wondering if you were tired after running the shop.”

Osamu wanted the ground to swallow him whole. He crumpled as he watched the person he loved with his whole heart stare back at him with nothing but hatred in their eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered out, not able to meet your eyes. Osamu never got a reply, the only sound he was met with was the door opening and slamming shut.

Iwazumi

The shrill tone of your cell phone ringing woke you up with a jolt. Groaning, you reached over to your bedside table, patting around for the familiar object. You rolled over to see the name ‘kawa (つω`●)’ flashing on your screen.

“What do you want, Oikawa,” you groaned into the phone.

“Y/n-chan, that’s no way to say good morning,” you could hear Oikawa pout through the phone. You looked over at your alarm clock, mentally cursing the setter for waking you up at 7:00am on a weekend.

“It’s too early for this,” you joked into the phone, “what did you need me for?”

“Y/n-chan, I have something I need to tell you,” Oikawa’s tone suddenly turned serious.

“What is it? It better be worth it,” you playfully teased, not catching onto Oikawa’s tone.

“It’s about Iwa-chan. I think it’s best if I tell you in person. Can we meet for lunch?” Oikawa asked. Curiosity and worry filled your mind as soon as the setter mentioned your boyfriend’s name. He was currently out playing with volleyball with his old high school friends.

Immediately sitting up, you ask, “Is he okay? He didn’t get hurt right? Aren’t you with him right now?”

“Well- he’s hurt, but not in the way you’re thinking. It’s just- let’s meet at lunch okay?” Oikawa sighed into the phone. After agreeing on a time and place, you get up, ready to start your day. You were excited about meeting Oikawa for lunch. The two of you grew close in high school, and he was the reason you were introduced to Iwazumi. You haven’t seen him in a while, only keeping in contact through occasional texts while he was in Argentina.

Soon enough, lunch time rolled around, and you were seated at a small cafe, waiting for the setter to show up. You wondered what he had to tell you, and what he meant by Iwa being hurt.

A cheerful “y/n-chan!” broke you out of your thoughts. Looking up, you saw Oikawa’s smiling face, although his eyes held a different emotion you couldn’t decipher.

“Kawa!” You got up to embrace him, “It’s so good to see you again!”

“I knew you’d miss me too much,” Oikawa teased, causing you to lightly push his shoulder as you chuckled.

“So what’d you need to talk to me about?” you asked as the two of you sat down. Oikawa’s expression immediately turned into a troubled one.

“I just want you to know, I care a lot for you, y/n, and I don’t want you getting hurt,” Oikawa started off, worrying you as he didn’t add a chan after your name.

“Yeah, of course, we’re best friends, Kawa, I only want the best for you too,” you said in confusion.

“This is a bit personal, but when was the last time you and Iwa, y’know, did it?” Oikawa sheepishly asked. You giggled at his expression.

“Hm, maybe two weeks ago? We’ve both been pretty busy lately, why do you ask?” you tilted in your head in confusion. Oikawa cursed under his breath, muttering something before looking up to you, his eyes suddenly holding a seriousness that made you shift uncomfortably.

“Look, y/n, you know how we were playing volleyball this morning?” you nodded in response. Oikawa nervously chewed on his bottom lip before continuing. “Well, while Iwa was changing, I saw he had scratch marks on his back,” pausing as he looked for a reaction. Your mind suddenly went blank.

There had to be an explanation, right? Maybe he just got hurt somehow.

“I’m only telling you this because I’ve been suspecting Iwa for a while now,” Oikawa started, “and when I asked him if you and him had a nice time last night, it was obvious he was lying when he replied to me. There’s no way he would just reply with a laugh and say yes. Usually he would have replied telling me to shut up, calling me shitty-kawa, and it just didn’t sit right with me.”

The voices around you became a blur as you processed this information. You knew for a fact you weren’t the one who put those scratch marks on your boyfriend’s back. You couldn’t believe it. Your Iwa, the Iwa that’s been with you since your second year at Seijoh, the Iwa that gave you butterflies anytime he smiled at you, the Iwa that would blush at your teasing, who held you tight on nights when everything seemed to have gone wrong, the Iwa who was always in your happiest memories.

You hadn’t realized you were crying until Oikawa hurriedly handed you some napkins.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I would’ve never thought Iwa would cheat. We both know his personality. I’m honestly really disappointed-”

“Where is he now?” You cut off the setter, looking down at the table.

“He went to go get lunch with Makki and said he’d go home after,” Oikawa said softly, looking at you with a worried gaze. “Are you okay, y/n?”

“Y-yeah, I’ll be fine, don’t worry about it,” you gave a weak smile. Oikawa easily saw past your smile, but decided not to push any further.

“I’ll drive you home, we can grab your stuff before he comes back, and you can crash at my place for the time being,” Oikawa softly said. With no energy left for words, you silently nodded as tears continuously streamed down your face.

Oikawa wouldn’t lie to you, not about something like this. You knew that, and that’s what made it hurt more. When did he even cheat on you? Was one of his late nights at work really just an excuse to be with another lover?

You hadn’t realized you made it back to your apartment until your car door suddenly opened. Looking up, you saw Oikawa standing, offering you his hand. Feebly, you took it as you got out with shaky legs. You couldn’t help but think about all of your memories shared with Iwazumi. How he sheepishly held out his hand the same way on your first date, how the two of you walked up to your apartment after signing the rental contract.

When the two of you reached your apartment, Iwazumi was nowhere to be found. Numbly, you went to gather your essential items as Oikawa began packing a small bag of your clothes to take. After you finished packing, you took a look at your apartment. A sob escaped your mouth as you looked around, only seeing the memories of you and Iwazumi. Tickle fights on the couch, countless nights cooking together in the kitchen, the late night movie and cuddle sessions.

“C’mon y/n-chan, let’s-” Oikawa’s voice was cut off by the sound of the door opening. You whipped around to see Iwazumi standing in the doorway, face filled with confusion.

“Kawa? What are you doing here? Why are you- y/n? What’s going on?” Iwa walked closer to you. “What happened, baby? Why have you been crying?” Iwa reached out to cup your face, hurt spreading on his features as you moved away from him.

“Turn around,” you stated.

“Wh-what, why? What’s happening?” Iwazumi’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Iwazumi, turn around right now,” you stated as even more hurt and confusion spread on the spiker’s face at the use of his full name. Slowly he turned around, not understanding the situation. Your hand trembled as you reached out for the hem of his shirt, only for your heart to be shattered as soon as you lifted his shirt. Red, angry marks ran down the length of his back.

Realizing the situation, your boyfriend turned around, guilt and worry evident in his eyes.

“Y/n,” he breathed out, “wait let-”

“Shut up. Stop talking,” you calmly stated, eyes hardening. Honestly, your calmness scared Iwazumi the most.

“Baby, please, wait, don’t leave. Let’s unpack your stuff and talk this through,” Iwazumi pleaded, eyes filling with tears as they darted to glance at the bags you and Oikawa were carrying. He needed to tell you it was all a drunken mistake, that he planned on proposing to you the coming week. You were his everything, he couldn’t let you go.

“I can’t believe,” you started, voice shaking, “you were willing to throw six years of memories down the drain.” Tears falling from your eyes.

“Am I that worthless to you, Iwazumi? Are our memories not enough for you? Am I not enough?” you quietly sobbed. Iwazumi’s heart clenched at your words. How could you think that? You were his whole world, his perfect match. Every moment with you was pure bliss to him, couldn’t you tell? Could you not tell that he would be completely lost without you?

“Y/n, no! That’s not it at all! Let me explain-”

Iwa made his way towards your sobbing figure before he was stopped.

“Get out of my way, Kawa, this isn’t any of your business,” Iwa snapped, eyes still trained on you as he desperately tried to reach you.

“No, it is my business. You hurt my best friend, Iwa-chan. I can’t let you continue hurting them.” Oikawa stated firmly.

“Get out of the way before I punch your pretty face, Kawa,” Iwa seethed. He needed to get to you before you got to the door, before you walked out of his life forever.

“Stop it, Iwa! You made a choice, and now you have to live with that decision for the rest of your life!” Oikawa raised his voice, his anger seeping through his words.

Iwazumi’s eyes finally met Oikawas. The setter could see the pain and regret in his friend’s eyes clear as day, only confusing him more. He could tell you meant everything to the spiker standing in front of him, so why did he do it? Why did he betray your trust?

Still staring at Iwazumi, Oikawa called out to you, “Let’s go, y/n.” Iwazumi’s gaze flickered to you, resolve crumpling as he truly took in your appearance. You looked so broken, hurt written all over your face. He was the reason you looked like that. He was the cause of all your pain.

“Please, y/n. Don’t leave me. I can’t do this without you,” Iwazumi’s voice cracked as you looked at you with pleading eyes, tears cascading down his face.

“I can’t, Iwazumi. It hurts so much,” you sobbed, turning around and walking out of the apartment.

All the life drained out of Iwazumi as he crumpled onto the floor muttering out a string of “I’m sorry”s. Oikawa cast one more glance at his best friends figure, whispering, “What happened to you, Iwa-chan?”

That night, two of Iwazumi’s best friends walked out of his life, never coming back.

3K notes · View notes

the-cult-of-russo · 3 years

Text

No Going Back

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Request : good morning. i wanna request number 8. “Maybe you should just leave now.” angst/fighting dialogue. to be correct it is for billy russo right?

A/N: yes it's my Billy boy :') he a lil soft in this though but also an asshole lmaooo not gonna lie, this one had me swept up in the emotion. It hit quite close to home and now I'm sad :')

Warnings: cursing, angst, sadness and heartbreak. Billy fucked up big time lol

Your hands were shaking as you slammed the door to your apartment. Tears stained your cheeks and you kicked your heels off before storming to your bedroom, grabbing a duffel bag and starting to pack his things that he'd left around. Heartbroken didn't even cover it.

You knew this would happen, it's why you fought against it for so long. But you were stupid and ended falling for his bullshit and now you were a mess.

You and Billy had been together officially for 7 months. You'd met a year ago at a bar and hit it off, but when he tried to take you home you'd denied him. That apparently piqued his interest even more. He'd always be at the bar every Friday when you went and it was always easy to just be yourself around him. You didn't take him up on his offer and he would offer every time. He never made it a secret that he wanted you.

But as the months drew on, you both got to know each other more and it became a sort of friendship. You had to admit you felt something when you looked forward to seeing him. He'd asked you once why you were so against it and you'd been pretty blunt with him. You knew of his reputation and you weren't into it. You didn't do one night stands or casual sex. You wanted a relationship, someone to settle down with. You wanted something real. You told him you didn't think he was capable of that and he'd break your heart.

Five months into knowing each other and he'd switched from just wanting to fuck you to wanting to actually date you and you'd still put up a fight. But as your feelings for him grew, he wore you down. The moment you agreed to that date, which he'd been over the moon about, everything changed.

It had been so easy to be with him. He treated you like a queen, was more affectionate than you'd have thought, and you enjoyed each other's company. He was busy with Anvil a lot so you didn't see him every day but he'd call if he couldn't see you or send you sweet texts. He swore to you up and down that he'd never hurt you, never do what you'd thought he would do when you turned him down all those times.

You'd see the looks women gave him when you went out together or were at an event as his date and sometimes you'd feel insecure. But he only had eyes for you it seemed and it reassured you. It lulled you into a false sense of security that he'd actually changed. That he actually cared about you.

But you were wrong. So very fucking wrong and now you were paying for it. You'd been having dinner with a friend you hadn't seen in a while when it happened. Your eyes finding Billy across the restaurant. He was sat with a pretty blonde, very up close and intimate as they whispered god knows what to each other. You'd felt your heart crack but tried to deny it. It was just flirting, nothing more. But then… he'd leaned in and kissed her.

You'd shot out of your seat so fast the chair fell over and ran out of the place like someone had lit a fire up your ass. And you knew he'd seen you because you heard him shouting your name as you jumped into a cab and left.

You hated yourself for being surprised at what he'd done. You'd told him this was exactly how it would go but he'd swore to you. And you allowed yourself to buy into his bullshit because you loved him.

Most of his things packed, you padded over to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine, pouring a large glass. You swigged it in one and felt the warmth bloom in your chest. It did little to ease the hopeless sorrow that consumed you though.

There was a rough knock at your door and you heard Billy call your name loudly. You tensed, heart breaking all over again as the tears seemed to be never ending. You didn't want to talk to him, to even look at him. But this was it. You couldn't stay with him, not now. You'd never be able to trust him again. You knew you had to tell him it was done so you could lick your wounds and heal from the pain.

"Y/N, please… open the door," Billy begged from the other side. You walked over, unlocking it but not opening it as you stormed back off to your bedroom. You knew he'd let himself in. You heard his heavy footsteps entering as you shoved another of his shirts in the bag, one you liked to sleep with.

"Can we talk?" He asked hesitantly.

"No," you bit out, eyes snapping to him. His face fell when he saw you crying and he took a tentative step into the room.

"Please, Y/N, let me explain," he frowned. You laughed but it held no joy. Only a deep rooted pain that was latched onto your soul.

"Explain? Really? What, you gonna say you tripped and your mouth landed on hers?! I saw it with my own eyes, Billy! You don't need to explain anything!" You roared, pure pain lacing your words.

He clenched his jaw as he shook his head, eyes glassy as he stared at you.

"I'm-I'm sorry," he started softly, reaching out to grab your arm but you smacked it away harshly. He looked like a kicked puppy and you hated it. He didn't get to be upset about this.

"How long have you been fucking her then?" You asked snidely as you grabbed the duffel bag, holding it in a death grip.

"I haven't fucked her," he muttered quietly. You snorted deprecatingly and he bit down on his lower lip.

"Yet?" You asked knowingly. His guilty glance to the floor told you everything you needed to know.

"How long, Billy? How long have you been cheating on me?" You asked, your voice wavered but your gaze had nothing but fire in it and he shifted where he stood. He couldn't look at you.

"A month. It was always one night, I never went back to someone," he frowned. Pain clawed its way through your chest and you threw the bag at him hard. He caught it but stumbled a little and he looked at you forlornly.

"Well, I guess that makes it better then, right?" You asked coldly and he flinched.

You stormed past him back to the kitchen area and he followed quickly.

"Please listen to me, Y/N. I need to make this right," he pleaded desperately. You whirled around to face him, face flushed and tear stained and you felt like you wanted to scream.

"Why? Why did you just decide after 6 months together to do this to me? You promised me, Billy! I knew this would happen but you fought for this! For us! Why?! Just so you could break my heart?!" You bellowed, a mix of anger and utter despair in your tone.

His lower lip quivered and he bit down on it, staring at the floor.

"I never wanted to hurt you. I swear, I didn't. I just…" his voice cracked as his teary eyes landed on you.

"Maybe you should just leave now," you uttered. Your whole body was trembling and you felt sick. You couldn't stand to look at him. He stepped closer to you, dropping the bag on the floor but you took a step back. It would be far too easy to fall for his bullshit again and if he touched you, you didn't think you'd be able to get him to leave.

It felt like pure pain ripped through your chest, the weight of the world crashing down around you. You slumped onto a dining chair as a raw sob clawed its way out. Billy was kneeling in front of you in seconds, his own cheeks now damp as he cupped your cheeks. You moved your head from his grip and shook your head.

"I loved you, you know that?" You whispered brokenly though your tears. You'd never outright said it, mostly in fear of his reaction. But it had all gone to shit anyway. His lip trembled again, scrunching his nose up a little as he shook his head. He looked utterly devastated and it made you angry so you continued.

"I loved you with everything I had. I trusted you with my life. I ripped out my own beating heart and willingly gave it to you because you swore to me you wouldn't do this. You just took it and stomped all over it. How could you do this to me?" Your last words were strained as the tears flowed freely.

"Please let me fix this," he begged helplessly. He was crying openly now, not trying to hide it as he gazed at you from the floor.

"You can't fix it. I'll never be able to trust you again. It's not just the sex, Billy! You've been lying to me for a month. All those business meetings or times you were away? And you just… you'd come back to me with a smile and tell me sweet words. Looked me in the fucking eye and not feel guilty," you choked out. He shook his head vigorously, hands clasping yours so tight you couldn't pull them away.

"You've got no idea how guilty I felt. It's been eatin' me up from the inside out," he lamented.

"Why would you…? What was it? You just got bored of me? Decided you didn't want me anymore? You should have just ended this because it would hurt less than this," you wept pitifully. He shook his head, clutching your hands tighter.

"Don't… Don't say that, I do want you. I know I don't deserve you, I know I'm an asshole. And… and maybe I shoulda left it alone when you told me this would happen, but I was selfish and I-I couldn't. You were never like the others. I knew that from the moment we met. But then… then things were gettin' serious and I just… I freaked out and went back to my default 'cause I didn't know how to…'' he cried, screwing his face up as he hung his head.

You sobbed as you stood, his hands falling away and you moved to lean against the table as he stood.

"It would be bad enough if I'd just got with you in the first place and you did this. But I wanted to avoid this. I tried so hard but you kept on at it. And it hurts so much more because you promised me you wouldn't do this and I believed you. I thought you'd changed, that you…" you ran a hand through your hair, tugging on it as the tears wouldn't stop.

He stepped to you, grasping your face in both hands and you couldn't bring yourself to fight it despite the pain it brought you. His endless eyes were all consuming, his cheeks wet from his own tears.

"Please… please, Y/N, don't do this. Let me make it right," he begged tearfully.

"Without trust, we have nothing. Everytime you're on your phone I'd wonder if you were talking to another woman. When you're out I'd be paranoid about who you were with. I can't live like that, Billy. I can't live my life in… in an anxious, jealous haze. That's not a relationship," you whispered.

He made a pained noise and it squeezed your heart so hard you thought it might implode.

"I was never good enough for you. I knew that. But I wanted… I wanted to try and be-be a good man… for you. And I fucked up so bad and I just…" his words trailed off into a hopeless sob and you squeezed your eyes shut. You wished there was a way to fix this but there wasn't. You wouldn't be in one of those relationships without trust. Checking your partner's phone and always checking in. It would break you.

"You need to leave, Billy," your words were a mere breath and his hands on your face tightened for a moment before they fell to his sides. He looked completely broken and you were sure you looked the same. He opened his mouth before promptly closing it, his jaw ticking as he moved away and pushed the heels of his palms to his eyes.

You wrapped your arms around yourself like it would protect you from the pain and glared at the floor. You could still feel his gaze burning into you. You glanced at him as he grabbed the bag and slung it over his shoulder. You had to fight the urge to grab onto him as he walked to your door. You felt like you were dying.

He grabbed the handle but stopped, not looking at you as his body tensed.

"I want you to know… I love you too," his pained words felt like a punch to the gut and you covered your mouth with a hand but it did little to stop the noise that left your lips. He looked over his shoulder at you, still holding the door handle.

"I know that… right now you probably don't believe me, but I do. And I'm sorry. I-I never wanted you to get hurt. You deserve so much better," he muttered despondently. With that, he opened the door and slipped out of your apartment. Of your life.

You fell to the floor as heaving sobs left your chest. It would have been easier if he came here being an asshole. Cold and emotionless like you knew he could be at times. But seeing him, his emotions so raw and on display, it cut you deeper than any knife could. And you believed him. You knew him well enough to believe that he fell in love with you and freaked out. You knew it would happen which is why you'd turned him down at the start. You believed he never wanted to hurt you. And you wished you could forgive him. You saw how much it hurt him too but you couldn't. You couldn't get over the betrayal and you didn't think you ever could.

He'd sabotaged what you both had because of his inability to deal with what he felt and the bitter knowledge that if he'd just accepted it, how different your future would be with him, it left a sour taste in your mouth. Billy had opened up to you a lot in your time together about his past and you knew how much it had messed him up. You knew it left him struggling with emotions and relationships and you felt for him. For the lost boy who'd never felt love and didn't know how to cope with it. But nothing could erase the heartbreak. The hurt that he'd given you. Because even if you'd one day be able to forgive him, you'd never be able to forget.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #the punisher #billy russo imagine

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superhero--imagines · 3 years

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Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here! / Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here!

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* “Everyone in school thought you were dead.”

* Jessica says bluntly as you walk down the pink streamer filled hallway

* you offer her a fake yawn and a smile.

* “My dad came by for a surprise visit.” She looks confused before her expression smooths

* “Oh your real dad, not Carlisle”

* Carlisle contacted his counterpart, Eleazer to tell him you were running away with a man 300 years your senior

* So of course Eleazer came running -after he probably had a spat with Carmen about who would handle this situation better- to Forks on the first flight he found

* Only to burst through the door to see you and Emmett playing kingdom hearts in the living room

* “Oh, I see the rumors have been vastly exaggerated.”

* Cue -figuratively- sweating Carlisle who takes a sip from his mug

* Since he was already here you figured you would take a few days off from school and show him around

* “Is there anything in particular you might want to see?”

* Edward and Carlisle are looking pretty smug thinking that they’ve already shown you everything of note in the area.

* “I’ve always wanted to see the space needle in Seattle.”

* They both falter when they hear that. All the things they’ve shown you are things humans wouldn’t be able to see, hidden meadows, waterfalls, underwater caverns

* They never thought to show you human landmarks. Eleazer nods a growing smile on his face

* “Seattle has a lot of museums that I’ve wanted to visit as well”

* Carlisle let’s out a sigh of relief, none of his kids would be caught dead at a museum outside of a field trip

* To their dismay and Eleazer’s delight your eyes sparkle

* “Can we go to the pop culture museum and the arboretum too?”

* You don’t even pack, Eleazer tells you you can just buy whatever you need when you get there. You do take a duffel bag full of blood bags though

* And then you’re gone, you leave care instructions for your animals with Edward and you and Eleazer drive off towards Seattle in the rented Mercedes he got at the airport

* “Is it just me... or do they look happier with Eleazer than they are with us.” Edward’s only talking to himself, but Carlisle hears and the oncoming doting parent verbal and mental sputter makes him regret saying anything at all

* “it’s okay Carlisle, I’m sure they’re happy here with us too.”

* You guys stay at a pretty upscale hotel downtown, in the penthouse

* “Are you here on a trip with your boyfriend?” The receptionist asks, and Eleazar straight up starts laughing

* “This is my dad.” You say with a straight face and you can tell the receptionist wants to die

* “I-I’m so sorry, we usually get couples this time of year.” Right, it’s almost Valentine’s Day. Makes sense.

* Still there’s something super gross about people thinking you’re romantically linked to Eleazer

* The penthouse is very nice. There’s an infinity pool on your balcony, and three different bedrooms.

* The trip is really fun, you have a -pretend- meal at the revolving restraint at the needle, and spend the rest of the week museum hopping

* “She feels so familiar....” you mumble to yourself as you gaze at a portrait of a woman with long dark hair

* “That’s Carmen” Eleazer tells you

* “What?!?”

* “She was popular with artists even before she turned, it’s always been a hobby of hers to model” You’re just glad it’s not a nude portrait

* You take super cheesy pictures at the natural history museum, and even better pics at the pop culture museum

* On one of your last nights in the city Eleazer took you to a laundromat

* “I know we’ve been running out of clothes, but I’m sure the hotel has a laundry service”

* Eleazer just grins, talking to the attendant, who takes him to a hidden door.

* Well this isn’t sketchy at all

* Eleazer takes your hand in his as he leads you down a long narrow hallway. When you teach the end there’s a pretty nice bar and what appears to be a jazz club

* “It’s a speakeasy, I thought it might be a little fun for our last day”

* Being beautiful has its perks because the waiter doesn’t even card you, just brings you your dink

* “So...Garrett huh?” You groan, and Eleazer smiles

* You knew this was coming

* “Don’t worry, I’m not like Carlisle, if you like someone I like them too.”

* Well at least he isn’t acting like a total freak about the whole thing

* “I am surprised someone like Garrett is more your flavor though” you raise an eyebrow.

* “In comparison to who?” Eleazer gives you a funny look

* “Edward of course”

* You almost spit out your drink

* “Oh, is this one of those situations where the three of you are a couple together?”

* You start coughing and the waiter brings you a glass of water

* “We’re not together!”

* “Well of course you and Garrett aren’t together yet-“

* “Edward and I aren’t dating.”

* Eleazer just looks at you like you told him you’re pregnant

* “That can’t be right” he mumbles and you sigh

* “Why would you think we were dating?” The jazz singer belts out a high note and Eleazer patiently waits for her to be done so he can talk again

* “Well you went with them to Forks, and when you came to visit last year with him we all just figured it had happened naturally”

* Besides, Eleazer see’s the way he looks at you.

* Like you’re the epitome of your gender, like there’s never been anyone like you and there never will be again

* “We all? The entire coven thinks that?” Your fingers thread through your hair.

* What does Tanya think about that? She must be feeling pretty smug what with that talk she gave you all those years ago about how you would eventually date Edward

* Edward probably knows and just doesn’t even care, the criminal probably thinks it’s funny

* Eleazar watches you have a breakdown, taking a small sip of his brandy. It looks like you haven’t realized the way you look at Edward yet

* You look at him like you don’t have a single doubt. You trust him unconditionally, you know exactly who he is and where he will be.

* You look at him like he’s home

* “This is so embarrassing” you mumble and Eleazer smiles

* He guesses it’s not time yet for you to realize your feelings. Maybe it’s for the best, he’s not as bad as Carlisle, but the thought of giving you away at your wedding makes his heart ache.

* “The best cure for embarrassment is alcohol, drink up.” He grins when you clink your glass against his before gulping down the contents of your drink.

* Who knows, maybe in a few years someone completely different will show up and sweep you off your feet.

* You do talk about something really important with Eleazer though

* “Eleazer when do you think Aro will send for me?”

* Eleazer stops mid motion, his glass halted halfway between the table and his mouth

* “If I’m being honest, I don’t think he will for many years” Eleazer has an awkward expression on his face. “I think he’s afraid of you”

* You sputter

* The great and powerful Aro?! Alive for 1000’s of years. AFRAID OF YOU?!?

* “Oh don’t look at me like that, try and think about it from his perspective.”

* Your power is on par with Janes, but unlike her over the decade you’ve been a vampire your power has only gotten stronger. Your body’s natural despair and your desire to be human feed off of each other, compounding on each other to make your power that much more potent

* The only difference is that now you’ve learned to hide it, keeping your emotions in check so others aren’t hurt

* There isn’t a person alive that stands a chance against you at your full potential. You’re the strongest known vampire

* “Chelsea can’t bind you to coven with her loyalty like she does the others,” Eleazer takes a sip of his drink. “his only choice is to let you come back on your own volition, otherwise he risks a war.”

* A war he wouldn’t win, on your own it was dicey, all of them against just you could go either way

* But you weren’t alone anymore, now you have Tanya, Kate, Irina, Carmen, Eleazer

* And Edward. You know without a second thought Edward would follow you into hell if you asked.

* “Saving any discovery of remarkable talent”

* A discovery like Bella

* You’re not 100% certain, but you’re pretty sure your powers don’t work on Bella, the same way Edward, Jane and Alec’s powers won’t work on her

* And if she can really spread her shield to others-

* You’re f*cked

* “but the chances of that are slim to none.” Eleazer reassures you

* You give him a reassuring smile

* “Salud” you raise you glass and he smiles

* “Salud” he grins as your glass clinks

* You weren’t expecting the week to go by so fast, or to be having as much fun as you did.

* You were pretty sad when the end of the week rolled around and Eleazer dropped you off home

* “He’ll be back before you know it” Edward says, his arm over your shoulders, giving your arm a comforting squeeze

* “Yeah I know, it still feels bad though”

* Edward doesn’t say anything, he just holds you a little closer

* You’re thankful to the Cullen’s for taking you in and giving you an opportunity you might not have had otherwise

* But they’re not your coven, they’re not really your family

* And so now you’re here, walking in a bright pink and red construction paper covered hallway next to Jessica who’s talking about Valentine’s Day

* Ah right, today’s Valentine’s Day

* “Do you think maybe...Mike bought me a carnation?” She asks twirling a strand of hair around her finger

* “I’m sure he did”

* You’re actually sure he bought one for Bella, but you’re hoping the courtesy extends to the whole friend group

* You bought all your friends valentines, and that includes the Cullen’s and everyone on the cheer team

* The money wasn’t the worst part, they were only a dollar each, the worst part was having to write notes for all of them, it wouldn’t have been so bad if the girl at the table wasn’t giving you a dirty look as you pretended to struggle through writing 30 cards

* “How much do you want to bet Bella gets the most flowers out of all of us?”

* You would bet the entire contents of your bank account, but you’re pretty sure Jess can’t match your bet

* “Well, she’s something new to look at, and boys are dumb”

* Jessica blows a strand of hair out of her face. You know she’s probably a bit bitter since she’s started to notice Mike is interested in Bella and not her

* But you kind of get it

* Bella’s cute, but she’s no Cindy Crawford. And to add...she’s really shy, not exactly someone with a charismatic personality.

* The attention she’s garnered will fade in due time, Edward had told you as much

* “It’s the same thing as when we moved to town, most of these kids have gone to school together since childhood, so when someone new gets here it’s all they can think about. They don’t really like her, they just like the idea of her. The illusion of a choice”

* It made you a little sad to be honest, even worse was that Bella didn’t seem to enjoy the attention. She seemed uncomfortable every time a boy flirted with her

* “I almost feel bad for her, I get the feeling she’s not really into any of these guys that are chasing her” Jessica says, so you’re not the only one that’s noticed

* You’re a little surprised that when the student comes by with carnations you get two entire bouquets worth

* And then they come back the next period and give you another bouquet

* “Oooo someone’s popular!” Angela teases and you shrug. Most of these are from Alice and Rosalie, they each bought you three each

* You got a whopping 12 from Conner which feels a bit surprising

* You knew he was going after it, but you didn’t think he would bother to actually put any effort into his attraction outside of flirting with you

* You’ve got one from everyone in your friend group, a handful from others on the cheer team, Emmett and Jasper both bought you one

* The only person who didn’t get you one was Edward

* You wonder if he got Bella one? The thought seems unlikely since they were basically at each others throat the last time they were together

* So imagine your surprise when you walk into the hall to see Bella and Edward talking

* You’re gone for a week and it’s like they’re suddenly insta-friends

* In fact, Bella’s actually blushing, a carnation twirling between her fingers

* A light red carnation

* So he did buy carnations after all, just not for you

* And Edward...his eyes are sparkling as he looks down at her. A lopsided grin curling onto his face

* Oh, there’s that smile

* He says something to her and she pouts, slapping him lightly with the carnation

* They’re getting along just fine without your matchmaking efforts

* So you were the problem

* You should be happy, relieved even-

* But all you can feel is the sharp twist in the bottom of your stomach

* “Hey (Y/N/N), I see you got my flowers”

* You turn around to see Conner who’s looking at your half zipped bag, 3 bouquets of flowers popping out of the top

* “Oh, yeah thanks they’re beautiful.”

* “I’m glad you got them, I noticed you weren’t at school and for a second I was worried you wouldn’t be here today too.”

* He really is cute. He’s got chocolate brown hair and clear blue eyes, a splatter of freckles across the bridge of his nose. He plays tennis or baseball or some other irrelevant sport.

* He’s popular with the girls too, he dated Lauren a few times, and Jessica admitted she had a crush on him freshman year.

* “Are you feeling better now?” He asks, he looks genuinely concerned and it takes you back a bit

* “Yeah, my dad came for a surprise visit so we went to Seattle”

* “Oh that’s cool, what did you guys do?”

* You’re a little surprised that Conner O’Malley, f*ckboy extraordinaire, is Trying to engage you in an honest conversation

* “We just did all the tourist stuff, space needle, museums, food, the usual.”

* Conner smiles at you, hands fidgeting together

* “That’s cool, did you um-did you read the note with the bouquet?

* You didn’t notice there was a note, you swing you backpack around, picking out his bright red bouquet with ease.

* You hadn’t paid attention to the note attached than reading the name on the front to see who they were from.

* “Will you be my valentine” you read the note out loud, feeling confused. What does that mean

* He fidgets in front of you, from here you can see his ears are bright red

* “So would you want to go out sometime?”

* He’s asking you out? On a proper date????

* “We could go watch a movie, or um I know you like to ride those bikes in Port A-“ you do like to ride those bikes in port a

* You watch the his human boy fumble over himself. There’s no future with this boy, one day he’ll grow old and want things you won’t be able to give him.

* “I have a ton of homework to catch up on-“

* “Oh, yeah no, I get that”

* But maybe... maybe it’s okay just to pretend and let yourself be entertained by the experience

* “Would you want to come with me to the library? I’m totally lost on Trig”

* You know it’s not the most romantic place, but that’s part of the reason you suggested it. You want to give him an out

* He looks a little surprised but recovers quickly.

* “I’ll meet you after school then, we can drive to the library together”

* You don’t bother telling Edward, you just look to the spot where he’s with Bella, he must have heard

* His eyes meet yours, his mouth pinches into a slight smile and he gives you a nod before turning back to Bella

* What so just because he’s got a new friend you’re invisible now?

* Stupid Edward. Not like you care, you just wanted him to know he’d have to ride home with the others

* Maybe his new best friend Bella can give him a ride home

* “So you’re going out with Conner tonight huh?” Mike asks when you take your seat in biology

* Edward doesn’t so much as spare you a glance

* “He’s just helping me catch up on school work.” You shrug, pulling out your biology homework

* “I bet he’ll help you catch up on-“

* “You’re going out with Conner?” Bella interrupts, you’re grateful for it but at the same time: those doe eyes and innocent face irritate you

* “He’s just helping me catch up on homework I missed”

* “Couldn’t Edward hell you do that?”

* You try to not look at Edward

* But what the f*ck?!?

* Last week the two of them couldn’t even sit in a car together for a short ten minute drive, and now all of a sudden she’s asking why you’re NOT spending time with Edward?

* It’s so... irritating

* You feel a tap on your arm, and turn to look at Edward

* “Control yourself”

* Oh great so the one time he decides to acknowledge your presence is to tell you to control your powers because he’s worried about his little human girlfriend getting the whiplash?!?

* Seriously, f*ck off Edward

* “Mr. Barnes I have to go to the nurse.”

* You don’t even wait to hear his answer, you just grab your bag and walk out

* You keep walking, practically fuming until you get to the parking lot

* Well you can’t leave, you already told Conner you’re going with him to the library after school

* Not to add it’s going to look real weird if you don’t go the nurses office eventually after storming off like that

* But you don’t want to go there yet

* Queue you discretely crouching under a window, lightly tapping the glass

* “Rosalie, Rosalie can you hear me?” You whisper

* Rosalie head turns to the window, her eyebrows threaded together, you poke your head just slightly above the ledge and give her a small smile and a wave

* Well at least it’s always interesting with you around

* “What are you doing?” Rosalie asks when she meets you under the school staircase

* You give her a nervous smile before collapsing onto the floor

* She gives you a knowing look before sitting beside you

* “So what did king Brood do now?”

* Queue the Edward rant

* “I leave for one week and all of a sudden he’s besties with some human, when just last week he told me not to get to close to her”

* “That’s Edward for you, king of the brood and hypocrisy.” Rosalie leans her head back against the wall

* “You know he didn’t even get me a carnation?”

* Rosalie rolls her eyes

* “That sounds like him, if it helps he didn’t buy me a carnation either, he just doesn’t think things like this are important”

* “He bought Bella one.”

* Rosalie sputters at that, so you retell her all about the flirting you had to watch

* “What color was the carnation?” Rosalie asks, and your eyebrows thread together

* Why is that important right now?

* “Um I don’t know, not quite pink, not quite red, something in between.”

* Rosalie’s expression smooths

* So that’s his game

* “Don’t worry about it too much as long as it’s not a deep red it doesn’t mean love”

* Now it’s your turn to sputter

* “W-what why would I be worried? Edward can do whatever he wants, even if it is with some human”

* Rosalie gives you a knowing look, and you avert your eyes

* If Rosalie were cruel she might ask why you’re sitting out here with her instead of in class, if you don’t care about what Edward does

* But Rosalie isn’t cruel, at least not to you

* She pats your shoulder, and you sigh

* “Come on let’s go to the nurse so you can pretend you have cramps or something” you nod

* “Besides don’t you have a date with the hottest human boy at our school?” You groan and a teasing smile curls onto her lips

* “Not you too.”

* The date is over hyped for sure, it’s mostly you and Conner sitting at the end of a small table asking each other questions about the trig homework

* “So...are you supposed to use the radical formula for this one?”

* “I think so..do you remember the formula?” Conner scratches his head

* “Um I remember there was a story about a mixed up guy going to a party that’s supposed to help”

* Basically it’s more like you’re helping Conner with home work than him helping you Totally underwhelming

* “Sorry, I bet there are better ways to spend your Valentine’s Day” Conner scoffs

* “Are you kidding? I’m spending it with the hottest person at Forks HS, as far as I’m concerned this is a win” he grins and you smile back

* Well, it wasn’t completely a waste

* You roll around back home around 11:30, everyone’s gone, on with their own Valentine’s Day plans.

* You’re not surprised to see Edward’s not in his room either He’s probably out watching Bella or doing god knows what

* You know this is the way it supposed to be, it’s the best thing for you too, you know even with Bella in the mix Edward would never betray you

* Once she’s on your side you don’t have to worry about the Volturi. But still, there a twist in your stomach You don’t like this new Edward, even if it is who he really is.

* You want your Edward back

* You sigh as you walk down the hall and into your room Stopping in the doorway when you flick on the lights

* There on your desk is a bouquet of roses

* You have half a mind to think they’re from Eleazer or Garrett or something

* So imagine when you pull off the card to see Edward’s name attached

* “Glad to have you home, happy Valentine’s Day” - Edward

* You toy with the card, a small smile curling onto your lips

* Maybe he’s still your Edward

* Your Edward just more anti-social

Tags: @moonlights27 @thebluetint @the100thtwilight @awesomebooklover17 @oneofthepotterheads @smileygirl08 @imdoingathingmom @iconicgguk @yrawn @alyciaswhore @little-horror-show @wicked-watering-can @lazydreamers @ xxxmuxxx @ideas-for-you-to-adopt @poisoinedhope @maryleigh8796 @moose-squirrel-asstiel @hotmessgoodness @jaimewho @corabmarie @what-am-i-doing10

#twilight #twilight imagines #twilight reader insert #twilight headcanons #waking up in twilight #edward cullen headcanon #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen imagine #edward cullen #Conner twilight imagine #Conner x reader #Edward Cullen x bella swan #Volturi imagine #superhero—imagines

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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Corpse Infested

Corpse Husband & Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Mentions of dysfunctional family, Family problems, Swearing

Genre: Humor, Comfort, Platonic fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When your friend disappears for a long time, seemingly having lost interest in what fueled the most passionate fire in their life, you cannot not worry about them. Even if you wanna give them space, you will reach out, you will offer your help. You will tell them they always have you to rely on and talk to.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! I’m really sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request, but here it finally is! Hope you come across it and if you do I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

For me, it’s never hard to find things to do. I’ve constantly got things on my mind and tasks to tend to, keeping me occupied and my mind focused at all times. I think that comes with living in a home as dysfunctional as this one. I honestly can’t recall a time when my parents got along nor can I think of a time where there was at least one second of peace while the two are both present in the house. It’s always a warzone up there. I’m saying up there because I tend to live out of the basement of their home. I know living in your parents’ basement is considered a peak loser point, or the bottom of the bottom, but you’d have to believe me when I say - I wasn’t always like this. In fact, I only recently came back to this hell-hole and boy do I regret it. I mean, it was a decision forced upon me by circumstances. Trust me, I tried every other option there was. When my dorm was to be closed down and demolished, we were given a notice to start planning our next move about a month early. You can bet I immediately started looking at places but my very tragic and miserable budget didn’t allow such a purchase. No rent was adequate for me and my near-empty wallet so my second option was moving in with my best friend who was also not in the greatest of situations but I thought I’d give that a shot too.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work out. She lived in a tiny apartment with her boyfriend and his best friend at the time, so four people in one apartment was a nightmare. Still a lesser nightmare than this one but a nightmare nonetheless. Some unwanted and downright traumatizing events chased me out of that place after barely managing to pack my stuff. Therefore, finding myself on the streets again, I had no other option other than the obvious and least liked one: moving back in with my parents.

Making money during my first year of college hasn’t been easy. Working two jobs at once and also streaming video games on the side was what my time was filled with all throughout the first semester but then this damn pandemic started and now ruined everything for me. I had things going for me, I was slowly getting my life together and now it has all fallen apart yet again. The places I worked at closed down due to quarantine and I haven’t been able to steam, not only cause I’d be the victim of my parents’ comments but also cause my terrible home life would be exposed to all my fans and viewers. It’s not like I could cancel out the commotion going on right above my head, it’s a livestream and this house’s walls are cardboard thin meaning all the arguing I hear almost 24/7 will serve as background noise for my streams.

I haven’t reached out to my friends or fans to inform them of this which I feel slightly guilty about but I’m really not looking forward to having to lie to them, just as much as I’m not looking forward to having to tell them the truth so instead I’ve picked silence which is probably either worrying them or driving them insane. Either way, I’ll make my comeback soon.

Well....not very soon by the looks of it...

I have to gather the money, then I have to find a place, then comes the packing, moving out of here, moving into the new place...oh God, there’s so much to it that I don’t even wanna think about. Just that thought that I’ll be inactive for that long makes my stomach turn. Streaming’s where I’ve been channeling all my negative emotions, turning them into something positive and entertaining with the help of my friends.

Speaking of my friends, I should probably put emphasis on how amazing they are. Basically the older siblings I’ve always wished I had. I’m the baby of the group, the eighteen year old freshman in college, powering through life the best they can cause they are constantly getting tripped up by inconvenient occurrences such as this one for example. I tend to have the gang poke fun at me quite frequently - all lighthearted and with good intentions obviously - but they are also the ones to get super defensive if anyone gets the balls to talk shit about me. They’d never allow me to be the victim of any smack talk or online rumors and ‘cancel culture’ or whatever the hell people will come up with to leave others restless and wondering if they did something shady a decade ago. Well, to be fair, I didn’t even know about the concept of social media a decade ago and I’ve never been one to post much but I still have a protection squad in case anyone decides to come after me.

Little do they know the people I need protecting from are the very people that are supposed to protect me - my parents. Luckily, they don’t venture into to basement very often if at all and I have my own exit to the outside world so I don’t have to run into them unless I absolutely have to. The only time I emerge to the surface of the house - aka the ground floor - I do so to leave my share of rent money on the dining table and I usually do it when they aren’t home or when they’re asleep - that happens often with how many bottles they each knock back on the daily.

*sigh*...at least I don’t have to talk to them, right?

Anyhow, remember how I mentioned I always have things to do? Well, right now I’ve tasked myself with rifling through the large boxes containing random stuff I found in one of the basements down here to see if there’s anything I could possibly sell online. For starters, I’d like to hope there aren’t any severed body parts in here because this was one shady-ass basement before I moved in and un-creeped it a bit so I wouldn’t have to become an insomniac due to the paranoia of there being a homeless person down here with me or some paranormal entity. Regardless, old basements tend to be, apart from haunted, also filled with junk no one would find valuable despite it actually being worth something after all. That’s basically what I’m hoping to find at the moment.

As I dig through the contents of the first box, the YouTube playlist I have put on on my phone cuts off causing me to furrow my brows in confusion for a second before my ringtone pierces the silence the lack of music created.

I quickly mute the ringing and take a look at the Caller ID to see a name I never thought would pop up on my screen as an incoming call - Corpse. I, as well as many of our friends, know that he’s not the biggest fan of talking to people on the phone so this is rather surprising. Still, I pick up the call in case it’s not a mistake and an odd chance that it’s somethin urgent cause Lord knows Corpse doesn’t call people willy-nilly.

Thank God it’s quiet up there at the moment.

“Hello?“ I try my best to cover up the confusion in my voice but I can only assume I didn’t do the best job considering Corpse replies with a slightly awkward chuckle.

“Surprised you, didn’t I?“ He asks, getting my cheeks to redden a bit, “You can’t blame a guy for calling after up and disappearing on him and on the whole internet. Where’ve you been?“

I open my mouth to respond when I hear the sound of glass breaking a shouted curse from upstairs.

Oh for fuck’s sake!

“Um...you know, places?“ I’m aware the answer isn’t only nonsensical but also sounds more like a question, but I can hardly focus on that right now. I’m too buys praying to an entity I don’t fully believe in for the situation above to not escalate.

“Uh, is everything ok over there? Where even are you right now?“ The teasing tone to his voice is all but gone at this point, replaced with deep concern, having obviously heard the commotion that did the exact opposite of what I prayed for - escalated.

“Y-yeah, it’s ok. It’s just another Thursday, you know.“ I attempt a small laugh but it’s blatantly miserable, “I moved back in with my parents when they announced the quarantine so that’s where I’m at now. They’re not the quietest of folks as you can tell so...“

“I FUCKING HATE YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I HOPE YOU DIE“

Oh crap, here we go.

“...So I can’t really stream a lot...or at all.“ I mutter, cringing with all my might, “But it’s only temporary! I’ll get back in the saddle as soon as I find another place to stay.“ I don’t dare mention how long that’s gonna take me, it’ll be too disappointing and depressing for the both of us. “So yeah...um...thanks for showing concern but there’s really nothing to worry about. I’m ok, everything’s ok, things are just...a bit off the rails, but I’ll fix em no problem. Like I always do!“ I attempt to sound as cheerful as possible with little success due to the overwhelming anger I feel towards those people upstairs and the gut-wrenching nostalgia for the world of streaming I can no longer be a part of because of them. Actually, I put the blame first on the pandemic and second on my parents - if it wasn’t for Covid I’d probably still be in my dorm!

“Hey...um, I think I know an affordable place where you can take up residence. Only if you want to, of course.“ He sounds hesitant but I easily overlook that as excitement bursts throughout my entire being at the sound if an escape being offered to me just like that. Had I known I’d find the solution to my problem in the very people I spent time avoiding because I was afraid of their pity, sympathy and judgement.

“Oh please, it could be a rat and roach infested shoe box and I’d go running to it. How much is rent?“ I ask through a gasp of hurried laughter that’s a result of my inability to contain said excitement. Listen, I’ve been sitting here in Hellsburg for three months now and haven’t gotten a proper shuteye during that whole period, whatever Corpse is offering has to be better than this misery.

“Rent can be discussed once you move in...“ He trails off, “And it’s not rat nor roach infested but there’s a slight issue...“

“Which is?“ I’m honestly expecting the worst: in a bad neighborhood; faulty wiring with a high chance of being electrocuted; faulty piping with a high chance of flooding; people have died there; things get randomly moved around in the middle of the night etc. However, I don’t voice any of them to avoid getting laughed at for my wild imagination.

“Well, uh, it’s corpse infested.“ He says a little awkwardly, causing me to let out an inaudible sigh.

So my ‘people have died there’ guess was on point, huh?

“People have died there, huh? Well, I can turn a blind eye to that as long as I don’t find their bodies in the closet or meet their spirits at 3AM.“ I attempt to joke, now second-guessing my eagerness to accept the offer.

Corpse bursts out laughing his ass off at my statement, getting me to furrow my eyebrows in confusion and wonder what I said was so funny - it was a poor attempt at a joke, it in no way deserves that sort of reaction, barely a chuckle in my opinion.

“You’re golden, Y/N, I swear.“ He says once he forces the laughter to subside, “I meant corpse infested as in Corpse Husband infested.“ He breaks out in another fit as my brain slowly starts connecting the dots.

Oooohh he’s asking me to go live with him

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait, hold up for a sec. Are you aware of what you’re offering me? I mean, we’ve never met IRL, you barely know me and....and for all you know I could be the serial killer in this situation!“ I have no idea why I’m pushing my luck, don’t ask. I just don’t want him to make a decision he’ll later regret, I guess. “Like, I could kill you in your sleep!“

“Would you?“ He asks confidently, silently stating he already knows the answer.

I roll my eyes, “Of course not! But...” He cuts me off.

“Great, the offer stands on my end. I’m not a noisy nor nosey roommate so I suggest you start packing. If you choose to live in that hell-hole over living with me, I’m sorry but I’ll be hella offended, just so you know.“

Corpse sounds like he’s about to hang up on me, a decision already made, so I hurry to stop him. “Wait! What about rent?”

“Fuck the rent, pack your bags.“ And just like that, despite my efforts, he hangs up on me.

Well...this is a chance of a lifetime that I know refusing would lead me to not only remain stuck here but also put me in the hugest loser bin. There’s also the fear of being Corpse’s burden which I’ll try my best not to be - I mean, I’m a super independent person and Lord knows that if this offer came any other time or from any other person, I would’ve declined asap, no discussion.

But streaming

But sleeping properly

But having a normal life again

Yeah those are most certainly the reasons I get up and go into the closet in search on my emptied suitcase. Time to fill it up again, I guess. This time with a smile on my face and excitement fueling each and every movement of mine.

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aliwritesfic · 3 years

Text

The Night Shift Part 6 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Summary: It's Saturday, your dickhead boyfriend is out of town, an old friend is in town, and it's time to get drunk!

Warnings: Drinking, mention of drug use, crippling self doubt

W/C: 4.3k

Spotify

Part 1 Part 7

Somehow, the week went exceptionally well. You bugged Frankie each day for the photo he promised you, and each time he grinned and told you that good things came to those who waited. On Wednesday you received a call from the vet telling you the kitten was going to be fine, and she would be put up for adoption when she was old enough. You were initially crushed that the kitten wasn’t going to be yours, but told yourself it was good she was bound to go to a good to a family. You couldn’t give the kind of life a cat deserved.

But most of all, you were almost unreasonably excited for the weekend. You bounced with excitement every time you thought about it - hell, even things with Kurt seemed to be going better. He had planned a hunting trip up north with a few of his friends, and would be gone from Thursday til Monday. He had brought you a bunch of flowers when he ‘broke the news’, not your favourite kind but it was the thought that counted. An entire four days to yourself was more than enough incentive for you to almost force him out the door on Thursday afternoon. With a kiss and a packed lunch and a promise to call, he was gone and the apartment was blessedly empty.

Even better, your best friend Sara was in town.

Fifteen minutes after you watched Kurt’s car pull out of the apartments parking lot, watching the window carefully to make sure he didn’t come back, you called her.

“Can we do something on Saturday? Get drunk, do bad things, anything?” You said by way of greeting.

“Oh hell fucking yes, I’ve been waiting for you to be fun again!” Sara said. You knew that was a not so subtle jab at how much you had changed since Kurt entered your life. You ignored it, like you usually did.

“Saturday sound good to you? I work Friday night and I can’t take it off.” More like you didn’t want to take it off.

“Saturday sounds fantastic. There’s a big fight night happening, and I wanna watch some hot sweaty guys pummel each other.” Sara said. “We can get drunk at the same time. Also I can get some molly if you want.”

“I’ll think about it,” you said, not entirely opposed to the idea of spending the night high as shit. Especially if Kurt wasn’t going to be there to yell at you for it.

“Let me know, sooner rather than later so I can sort it out with my guy,” Sara said. “Anyway babe, I’ve gotta jet, I’ve only got five minutes left on my break and I haven’t eaten yet, love ya!”

“Love you too,” you said, meaning it with your whole heart. Out of all the friends you once had, Sara was the only one who had stuck around after you started dating Kurt. At first, you had choked it up to jealousy, convincing yourself all your other friends were envious of your perfect relationship with a perfect guy. Now looking back, you could see what really happened: you had ditched them. Completely and utterly. Kurt had taken up all of your time, convincing you to stay in when you had plans to go out, telling you that the girls you would have trusted your life with only barely put up with you and it was just so obvious to anyone with an outsider's perspective that they didn’t really like you. You were grateful for Sara, more than words could say.

~*~

Saturday came quickly, and before you knew it, Sara was slamming her fist on your door, a bag stuffed with alcohol slung over her shoulder.

“Bitch!” she screamed in greeting when you finally opened the door, still wrapped in your towel from your shower. She was already dressed, in a tight gold 70s style jumpsuit that made her dark brown skin look like it was glowing from the inside out.

“How do you manage to look so good all the time?” You said, stepping aside to let her in.

“Witchcraft,” Sara said, pulling a bottle of prosecco out of her bag and popping it open. “And like, this whole thing took me all day. Why aren’t you ready yet?”

“I’ve been sleeping all day,” you said, plucking the bottle out of Sara’s hand and taking a swig. It was cold and crisp and filled your partly empty stomach. You continued to take small sips as you got ready, occasionally asking Sara for her girly wisdom on what to wear. She picked out your outfit as you applied makeup. It felt almost foreign, using something other than a mascara and brow pencil. The use of colour and shimmers almost felt like breaking some unwritten rule you had created for yourself since dating Kurt.

“What happened to all your fun clothes?” Sara whined, going through your wardrobe. You shrugged, carefully applying bronzer. Honestly, you weren’t sure. Sometimes things just went missing - you didn’t really question it anymore.

“I’m a miracle worker.” Sara declared after almost fifteen minutes of searching. You looked up at her, then at the small bundle of clothing in her arms. She grinned and flung the pile at you. You held up a black pleather skirt that you hadn’t worn in almost a year, and a black body suit that dipped low in the chest.

“Christ,” you muttered.

“What’s wrong with it,” Sara sounded exasperated, like she had been expecting this from you.

“It’s just-” you hesitated. “I’m not going out to get dick, you know? What’s wrong with a pair of jeans?”

Sara rolled her eyes. “What’s wrong with a pair of jeans? I’ll tell you what: everything. You don’t have to have dick as the aim of the night to look cute. You can look cute for yourself. You know just as well as I do that skirt makes your legs and ass look amazing, especially when paired with the shoes I’ve brought for you. Plus, if someone out tonight decides you look cute enough to buy you drinks, then even better! Because free drinks! You don’t have to fuck them as a thank you, you can just turn around and walk away. So, get dressed and stop complaining.”

You considered Sara’s words for a moment. She was right. After you changed, you admired yourself in the mirror. Your ass really did look amazing, and the strappy black heels that Sara had loaned you accentuated your calves magnificently. Sara stood next to you, arm linked through yours, almost a foot taller in her platforms and with her afro teased to the high heavens.

“God, we’re sexy,” she murmured, taking another swig out of the bottle. “You’re absolutely wasted on Kurt.”

You didn’t bother with your usual retorts to that kind of comment. She’s wrong, you’re lucky to have someone to love you like that at all, no one else would want to if they got to know you, you told yourself. It’s what he had told you over and over again, the words searing themselves inside your brain to repeat each time you began to truly doubt with him.

You finished off the prosecco while you waited for the Uber to arrive, enjoying the warm buzz it left you with. Sara whipped out her phone and began to take photos of the two of you. At first, you shied away from the camera, the words Kurt had said once in a throwaway comment, surely not designed to hurt but did anyway, rang in your ears. You don’t look very good in photos, why do you take so many? After that, you would spend hours staring at old photos of yourself, the flaws that were invisible now glaringly obvious.

Tonight though . . . Tonight you felt pretty. You posed for the camera, following Sara’s instructions as best you could. You took photos of each other throughout the entire ride to the venue where the fight night was taking place.

It looked a little shabby on the outside, overgrown hedges snaked up the walls, covering the windows. A smoking area was off to the side, crowded with people. The inside was even more crowded, with bodies pushing up against the horseshoe shaped bar and surrounding the ring. Two women were in the ring, both bloodied and swinging.

“God there is just something so arousing about hot people consensually beating each other up,” Sara said, unable to tear her eyes away from the ring.

“Babe, you’re drooling,” you joked, stepping in line for the bar.

“I can’t help it, I have an overactive salivary gland,” Sara sighed, tearing her eyes away. “At least my dentist says so.” You grinned at her and ordered three vodka sodas each. It was a tradition with the two of you that you would always order three drinks at a time. Less back and forth, you had reasoned. Although, usually as the night progressed, three drinks were downed in the same amount of time it took to drink one, so it really cancelled itself out in the end.

As tradition warranted, you and Sara cheersed and swallowed your first drink in one breath.

Several more fights occurred, the divisions eventually changing from women’s to men’s. Neither you nor Sara paid much attention to the first few fights: “amateur hour” Sara had said to you “I’m waiting for the good stuff.”

The good stuff, it turned out, started almost an hour and 5 drinks after you arrived.

“Next fight, King V Miller!” The announcer shouted into the microphone to the cheer of the crowd. Sara’s head shot up as if she could sense the sudden change, and she grabbed your hand, tugging you closer to the ring.

“Oh, my god look at him,” Sara said, gesturing to the ring. You knew instantly which one she was talking about. He was tall, with shaggy blonde hair and lean muscle corded over his body.

“He’s pretty spry,” you said, and instantly cringed. Spry? Really?

“I wanna fuck him tonight,” Sara said. Then her voice took on a determined edge. “I am going to fuck him tonight.” Manifestation, Sara called it. If you told the universe what you wanted, the universe would deliver.

Apparently.

“I am going to get more drinks,” you told her. She nodded, not tearing her eyes away from the fighter. You went to the considerably less crowded bar- it seemed like everyone was now watching the fights- and leant against its sticky surface.

You shouted your order over the noise of the crowd, and scanned the bar as you waited. Most faces were familiar in the way that you knew when you had seen someone before, but you didn’t know when or where. That was, until you landed on one dazzlingly familiar face, standing almost right next to you.

“Frankie?”

~*~

Frankie startled at the sound of his name. He looked around, expecting to see one of the boys or maybe an old work friend from the mechanics. The last person he expected was you. But there you stood, looking so good that he was momentarily lost for words.

“Frankie!” You said again, with a huge grin on your face this time.

“Hey!” He grinned back, “what’s a girl like you doing in a dump like this?” His tone held a flirty edge, one he wouldn’t dare have used if he hadn’t already had several bourbon and colas.

“Oh you know, I plan on accosting the winner tonight of all their prize money and taking off into the night, never to be heard from again,” you accepted three drinks from the bartender as you spoke. “What about you?”

“My friend Benny is fighting tonight. He’s actually up right now, the blonde one.”

Your jaw dropped. “No way! My friend wants to fuck your friend.” You pointed your chin towards a tall black woman, dressed like she had wandered out of Studio 54. “Is he single? Can we play wingpeople?”

“He is, we can.” Frankie nodded confidently. Maybe it was the alcohol controlling his brain, but any excuse to spend time with you seemed like a good excuse. “How should we do this?”

“Does your friend Billy-”

“Benny.”

“Benny stick around after the fights?”

“Yeah, he gets free drinks,” Frankie said. You nodded approvingly, taking a sip of one of your own drinks. Frankie watched amazed as you somehow held the two others in one hand, your fingers curling around the hard plastic cups.

“How do you do that?” He asked.

“Do what?”

“Hold your stuff like that,” he gestured to your fingers. You looked down, confused.

“Whatta’ya mean?”

“With your fingers.”

“Oh! Um, I dunno, I just do.” You shrugged and placed the now empty up on a random table, and started on the next drink. It occurred to Frankie that you were well on your way to being very, very drunk.

The crowd cheered loudly as Benny knocked out the other guy with a bloody grin. Frankie whistled his support and Benny caught his eye, saluting tiredly. Santi also caught his attention, and even across the room Frankie could see the wicked grin form on his face. Frankie looked away quickly, not willing to give the bastard any ideas.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Frankie asked, trying to keep his voice casual.

“Some stupid place doing some stupid hunting,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “Fuck him anyway he never lets me do anything fun.”

“What do you mean ‘lets you’?” Frankie said, his brow furrowing.

“I mean, he’s a controlling dickhead!” You said, then slapped a hand over your mouth. “Don’t tell him I just said that! Please!”

“I won’t, I promise,” Frankie said.

“Just forget I said anything,” your voice had taken on an almost desperate edge.

“It’s forgotten,” Frankie lied. He didn’t know how, but he was going to bring it up later. The idea of your boyfriend ‘not letting’ you do something had taken root in his brain, and somehow it made him furious. He took a deep breath, counting slowly to calm himself down.

“Who’s that guy who keeps making faces at you?” You asked, gesturing across the bar. Frankie sighed.

“Santi.” Frankie rolled his eyes at his old friend and waved him over. His curly hair friend bounded over, flashing you with a brilliant white smile.

“Well, hello there,” he said, winking at you. “Santiago Garcia, but you can call me whatever you like.”

You smiled sheepishly and gave him your name, “I work with Frankie.” Santiago’s grin widened at this piece of information, and Frankie groaned internally.

“You’re the girl Frankie told me about.”

“Chatting shit, I’m sure,” you laughed, but Frankie didn’t miss the questioning glance you sent his way when you spoke.

“Santiago was the one who took that photo I told you about,” Frankie said quickly, not wanting you to get the wrong idea. You nodded and leant over towards Santi.

“He keeps promising to show me but he’s yet to deliver,” you said, winking at Frankie. His stomach jumped, breath caught in his throat. He knew you were joking but he couldn’t help but feel like he had disappointed you somehow.

“That’s my fault,” Santi said, “I keep meaning to get him a copy but since he’s sleeping all day I haven’t been able to.” You nodded and turned to Frankie.

“I should go find my Sara before I lose her for the night,” you said, looking at Frankie. “Come find me - I mean, us later? With your Benny?”

“Yeah, of course,” Frankie said, watching as you disappeared into the crowd. The urge to grab you and kiss you grew with every second, but he restrained himself. He wasn’t that kind of guy, and no amount of drinks would make him think it would be a good idea to do that to someone. Let alone you.

~*~

Frankie’s head was cloudy with alcohol, he couldn’t stop thinking about how good your ass looked in that tiny skirt, how he wanted to plant his face directly in your chest.

“Fucking hell, get a grip,” Santiago said, shaking his friend by the shoulder. They were back in the locker rooms, Benny was buzzing with his win. He and Will were going their post match ritual of smacking each other on the back and releasing loud “woo”’s.

“I’m fine,” Frankie insisted, and Santi scoffed.

“You’re full of shit,” he said. “Ironhead, tell this idiot he’s full of shit!”

“You’re full of shit, Fish!” Will said automatically. “But what’s he full of shit for?”

“He’s in denial about pining for the chick he works with,” Santi said. “Look at the poor bastard, it’s written on his face.”

“Fish, you’ve never been good at keeping a straight face when it comes to emotional crap,” Benny said. “All other stuff, you’re great. Just not when it comes to matters of the heart. Or the dick.”

“You should’ve seen the way he was looking at her,” Santi laughed. “And the way she was looking at him, making bedroom eyes at each other.”

Frankie rolled his eyes, ignoring how the last comment made his heart leap. “You’re all stupid, she’s just a work friend saying hi. Nothing more.”

“Full of shit!” Benny cackles. “Look at his blush!” Frankie groaned. They were right about him at least. He had it bad for you.

But that didn’t matter. You had a boyfriend, and even if everything Frankie found out about the guy made him resent him a little more, he couldn’t change that one important fact. And he wasn’t stupid enough to ruin the beginings of his friendship with you over a stupid fucking crush. He just wasn’t.

Benny showered, singing You Belong With Me and switching out the pronouns as he did. The man was an unashamed Swiftie, claiming that she had a song for every situation. Frankie pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep swig of his beer. Will sat beside him and nudged him gently.

“What are you gonna do?” he asked.

Frankie frowned. “What? I’m not gonna ‘do’ anything. She has a boyfriend, end of story.”

“Sorry to hear that man,” Will said, sounding sincere. He knew Frankie wasn’t the type of guy to wreck someone else's relationship for purely selfish reasons. “You’re a good man.”

Frankie wished he wasn’t.

Benny changed into his regular clothes quickly, and said something about needing a drink. The four of them left the locker room and made their way to the bar, and Frankie couldn’t help but look around for you. When he couldn’t see you, he bit back the slight disappointment that sank in his stomach. Benny brought a round for the group and they found an empty table to sit at. The employees of the bar were dismantling the ring to make room for a dance floor. Loud, thumping music started playing and within moments the floor was packed with bodies.

“Frankie! And Frankie’s friends!” Frankie looked around at the sound of your voice, which was high with excitement. You bounded over, clutching the hand of the friend you had pointed out earlier. You introduced yourself and your friend Sara to the group and pulled up a chair for you and Sara each. Frankie didn’t miss how you placed Sara’s chair next to Benny, or how Benny was staring at Sara with his mouth slightly open. He also noticed with a slight pang how you sat yourself between Will and Santi, directly across from him.

What he didn’t was how much you kept looking at him. Lucky for him, Santi and Will noticed plenty.

You and Sara spent a few hours with the group, until a not so inconspicuous Benny and Sara both disappeared, Sara throwing a wink towards you as she left. Will left not long after, saying that his bed was calling his name. Santi stayed a little longer, flirting with you much to Frankie’s annoyance. To his credit, he didn’t show you the catfish photo. Frankie wanted to show you that one himself, when you were both sober.

“I better head out,” Santi said as it rolled past three in the morning. “I’ve gotta babysit Lee tomorrow, and you know how hyper he is.” He turned to you and kissed your hand. “It was the deepest pleasure meeting you, don’t be a stranger. Frankie.” Santi raised an eyebrow and shot him a meaningful look.

“Good night,” he said a little forcefully, shoving Santi towards the door, mainly to get him to stop flirting with you. He knew the flirting was just incentive to spur him into some kind of action with you, but it wasn’t going to work.

“Your friends are nice,” you said, struggling to connect the straw of your drink with your mouth.

“They’re assholes most of the time. They’re just nice to beautiful women.” Frankie regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. Shit! Now she thinks I think she’s beautiful. She is! But she doesn’t need to know I think that! Frankie finished off his drink to avoid looking at you.

“I’m attractive til they get to know me,” you said with a snort.

“What makes you think that?” Frankie asked, confused as to how that could work.

“I don’t think,” you said, “I know. It’s a fact. One that cannot be argued.”

Frankie was about to argue with you about this when you turned away, stumbling as you did. She’s super fucking drunk, Frankie thought, grabbing your arms to steady you. Your skin was so much softer than he anticipated, sending a jolt through him. He let go quickly, mouth going dry as you beamed up at him.

“You saved me!” You declared, then finished your drink quickly, emitting a small burp. “To thank you, I must give you a token of my gratitude. I know! A drink! Three drinks for the kind sir! And three for me!”

“Jesus, how much have you had?” Frankie asked, laughing.

“Only a little bit,” you shrugged and thought for a moment. “Maybe like, a dozen vodka sodas and some shots and also half a bottle of prosecco. And also a teeny tiny bit of molly, but that was hours ago, so it’s basically gone.”

“Maybe I should walk you home,” Frankie suggested gently, amazed that you were still upright let alone getting served. You shrugged.

“I can just get an Uber or something, it’s fine.”

“No, no, don’t waste your money, let me walk you.”

You looked up at him with slightly unfocused eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

The cold air outside hit the both of you like a wall. Stars scattered across a moonless sky, leaving Frankie wonderstruck for a moment, until he noticed the goosebumps on your arms. Without a second thought, Frankie took off his jacket and placed it gently around your shoulders. You looked up at him, a surprised look on your face.

“Frankie, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, so, I have this friend, right? And she’s been dating this guy for years now. They live together, no kids or anything. But she told me a little while ago that she’s been feeling . . . trapped.”

“Trapped?”

“Yeah. Like, she doesn’t think she loves her boyfriend anymore. At least, not in a way that she should. And he’s so mean to her, too. He doesn’t hit her or anything, but he’s also not super nice to her, and-and she doesn’t always know what she did to deserve it. She doesn’t know what to do.”

“Can she leave?” Frankie suspected you weren't talking about a friend, but he didn’t press beyond what you were willing to tell him.

“Not easily, I don’t think. She doesn’t have enough money for her own place and- and she’s afraid.” Your face flushed.

“What’s she afraid of?”

“Being alone. Unloved. She doesn’t have any family or anything and her boyfriend is the closest she has to that. So um, if she was your friend, what would you say to her?”

Frankie was thoughtful for several moments. He didn’t want to fuck this up. If his suspicions were correct, you were talking about yourself. “Well, first of all I would tell her that her boyfriend is a massive dick, even if he doesn’t hit her, boyfriends shouldn’t make their girlfriends feel like shit. I would tell her to talk to her friends, ask for their help. I would also tell her that being alone doesn’t have to mean lonely, and it certainly doesn’t mean that she’s going to be unloved.”

You nodded thoughtfully at this. Frankie took this as a good sign. “She can’t know for sure what her life will be like, but my guess is that it will be better if she chooses to leave this asshole.”

The rest of the walk was spent in silence. Frankie knew you were thinking about what he said. He too, was lost in thought. Trying to figure out a plan to help you in any way he could. All too soon, you arrived at your apartment building.

“Thanks for this,” you said, taking off the jacket and handing it to him. Frankie nodded.

“You needed it more than me,” he said simply. “I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow?”

You nodded, and then as if you weren’t entirely sure if what you were about to do was a good idea, you wrapped your arms around him. Frankie stiffened for a moment before hugging you back, holding you to him tightly, breathing in your scent of perfume, sweat, and alcohol. You were warm and soft and everything in him was screaming don’t let go.

“Thank you,” you whispered in his ear, and he knew you weren’t talking about the jacket.

Taglist: Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish @punkerthanpascal @nakhudanyx @gracie7209

#the night shift #frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier

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livexdolan · 3 years

Text

The Cage - Part One

A/n: so hi! This is a UFC based fic about Grayson Dolan. This is an AU with an OC. There is no face claim as of now but they might change idk. I’m not going to ramble lol I’m just very very nervous. Anywho please enjoy and let me know what you think! There will be many parts to this series by the way lol so this part is kind of slow but just wait aha

Word Count: 5924

Warnings: fluff, mentions of death, explicit language, and triggering topics (maybe?) mentioned

“I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be famous- never telling anyone but I’ve always wanted to know- wanted to get in the head of someone famous and see what they go through- but I could’ve never guessed this was how I was going to find out.

It all started when I was 22, fresh out of college, with a crappy assistant job at a publishing company in Los Angeles, California. Having been stuck at this job for almost three years and never even having my articles read, I was starting to lose hope that I would never be more than an assistant. Until one day…”

“Lily! Get in here! And bring me a coffee!” I scurry to Mr. Lane’s office, clutching the coffee I had just gone and grabbed for him, stopping by my desk to grab my notebook and pen.

I opened his glass door and put his coffee down on his desk, pushing up my glasses as I opened my notebook and clicked my pen, looking up at him expectantly, waiting for him to say what he needed me to do. He looks at me, his eyes bright at first but quickly losing their color and he sighs as though he’s already exasperated, “What is this?” He holds up a copy of a story I had put on his desk.

Oh jeez, another rejection. I push my glasses up again and start to stutter out an explanation in a quiet voice, “Well, I-I heard you talking to some of the reporters about need-needing a new story for next week's issue and well, I-I already had an idea so I thought I’d-” He cuts me off with a quick raise of his hand and a stoic look on his face, giving nothing away.

“Look,” he sighs and rubs his face with both hands before continuing, “It’s not a bad story, but it’s a half-baked idea. That’s your problem. That’s why you haven’t gotten a byline yet- you can never deliver a full idea- let alone a full article, do you understand?”

I look down, refusing to let him see my cheeks burn red and my eyes water. This is what he says every time I give him an idea. “Do you want to be a journalist?” He questions.

I make eye contact with him quickly lifting my head and squaring my shoulders to try and seem more confident, “More than anything, sir.”

“Well then, I have a proposition for you.” He gets up from his chair, his tall, lean body going to perch on the corner of his desk as he looks up at me his blue eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint, “I’ll give you a lead, and if you can follow through and get me a full 12000-word article by Monday, you can keep your job and I might throw you a lead here and there. But if you fail to deliver…” He pauses momentarily, thinking over his next words carefully, “you lose your job.”

I gasp and try to reason with myself for a second, making a mental pro-con list before replying quietly, “What’s the article on?”

He shakes his head and smirks lightly, filling my stomach with more unease, “No, you have to agree to the proposition. Then, I will tell you the story.”

Can I do this? Can I risk everything? I mean, that’s what my life’s been so far, a lot of risks and sacrifices. But is this a sacrifice I’m willing to make?

What would mom do? I sigh, “O-ok. Okay, I accept. Now, what’s the story?”

He claps his hands together excitedly and looks up at me with a boyish grin, he moves swiftly behind his desk and grabs an envelope, handing it to my shaky hands, “Grayson Dolan, he fights tonight here at the arena, go with a press pass, get an interview with him and ask him a couple of questions. Oh, and make sure we get a quote.”

I stare at him open-mouthed, frozen to my spot, “What? The Grayson Dolan?! You and I are both very aware that he refuses to do interviews. This isn’t even possible.” I say without trying to raise my voice too much.

Jace just leans back in his desk chair, lacing his fingers together and putting them behind his head, “Not my problem- it’s yours now. If I don’t have that story in my hand Monday morning, just pack your things up and leave, got it?” He smirks up at me.

I just silently walk out of his office and back to my desk, sitting down and putting my head against the cool wood surface. I don’t know if I want to cry or punch myself in the face.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“And then he told me that if I accept- but fail to give him a story- I lose my job!”

“Wow! I never liked that guy, you know. He gives off such- such a douchebag vibe.”

I can’t help but chuckle at my dad’s voice dropping a little, he hasn’t been big on cursing since mom passed. At first, it was weird because both my parents cussed when I was growing up. But after mom passed, dad decided that, ‘there’s enough hate in the world’ and that he’s not going to add to it with foul language.’

“I know Dad, but what am I supposed to do?”

“Don’t accept it! You should never risk your whole career on whether or not some guy is feeling up to an interview!”

“Ok, one-” I start, “it is not just some guy! This is Grayson Dolan! And two,” I lower my voice and chew my lip, a bad habit I picked up in middle school, “I already agreed.”

“Of course you did!” he sounds exasperated and I pull my phone away from my ear a little out of reflex, “You are just like your mother, you know that?” he sighs and the line goes quiet.

“Daddy?” I whisper into the phone. He stays silent. It’s my turn to sigh and fall back onto my couch. I mutter into the phone, “He wouldn’t tell me the story until I accepted. I have to go get ready, I’ll talk to you after the match. I’ll be sitting ringside so look for me, ok?”

“Ok, I will. I’m still not happy about this.”

“I know Dad, you’re not happy with two-thirds of the things I do.”

That gets a reluctant chuckle out of him, “I guess you’re right. Good luck, by the way. If anyone can get an interview out of Dolan- it’d be you. And if you can’t, your childhood bedroom would love to have you back.”

“Ha-ha. Thanks. I love you.”

“Love you too baby, I’ll see you soon?”

“Dad,” my stomach drops at his hopeful voice and I can’t bring myself to tell him the truth, “Maybe, bye.”

I hang up the phone before he can say anything and I sink into the couch.

I wake with a start, my neck sore from the back of the couch. Oh no. I grab my phone in a haste, I turn it on and my whole body sags in relief when the time shows up; 6:45.

I have about an hour and a half to get ready, that’s enough time!

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Wrong. Very wrong. I feel a wave of heat wash over me, igniting my anxiety as I look at the time on my phone; 7:45.

I quickly put on my normal, light makeup consisting of moisturizer, skin tint, blush on my cheeks and nose, giving me an almost sunburnt look. I shape my eyebrows a little, fix my glasses, and put on my chapstick. I quickly brush out my short, wavy hair and clip back the front parts. I shake my head slightly to get my bangs in place and do one last check in the mirror before heading to my closet.

Too pink. Too casual. Too tight. Too- ugh where did I even get that from? I start moving the hangers faster, getting frustrated with my lack of options. I move past a pastel purple dress- wait. I go back to the dress and grab it off the rod, holding it up in the light.

When did I buy this? My eyebrows furrow as I look at the beautiful and delicate dress that I must’ve forgotten about. I pull it off the hanger and slowly put it on, saying a silent prayer that it fits.

I smooth the soft material out and look in the mirror. I’m pleasantly surprised by how the dress fits. It’s silk with spaghetti straps and is a lilac color with little flowers all over it.

I don’t have time to overthink my outfit now. I throw on my roommate’s white Timberlands, grab my black purse, making sure my ID, wallet, and phone are all tucked safely inside. I grab my press pass and put the lanyard around my head carefully.

Taking a deep breath, I walk out to the living room where my roommate is sitting waiting for me to come out.

I clear my throat and try not to look too awkward. Ryan looks up from her MacBook and gasps, tossing her laptop onto the couch next to her, she moves over to me, her long legs gracefully walking around the coffee table.

She investigates every part of my outfit, making me feel small and self-conscious. Before I can stop myself, I start rambling in a quiet tone, “Is-is this too much? Do you th-think it looks okay?”

She grasps my shoulders and a wide smile makes its way onto her face, “Of course, you look amazing!” I smile at her and she winks at me, “When that pretentious ass sees you- he might want to do more than just let you interview him.”

I snort and roll my eyes and she laughs, “Yeah right,” I mumble.

She walks over to our coat rack and pulls off a small black cardigan, “Here, I know it gets cold in there,” I smile gratefully and take it from her, folding it over the crook of my arm and taking a deep breath.

I start to walk towards the door and she calls my name, I look back at her as I open the door, “You look hot Lil- knock ‘em dead,” I smile at her and nod, walking out before I get sappy.

I pull into the busy parking lot of the arena and gulp down my bubbling anxiety. I find a parking spot, towards the back of the lot seeing as I don’t get bothered by having to walk a little. I go up to the line, seeing a sign that says, ‘PRESS ENTRANCE HERE’ I smile at the worker looking at me and pointing to the Press sign and then at my pass hanging around my neck, he nods.

I go towards the other entrance and show a different security guard my pass and he opens a door for me, I smile up at him, “Thank you-” I glance at the small name tag, “Don.” He blushes slightly and coughs.

I blush too and walk through the door quickly. I realize that I’m ‘backstage’ and can hear the fans cheering for one of the main card fights happening. I check my small watch and see that it’s going to be another hour or so before Grayson Dolan fights.

I take another deep breath and start walking forward, trying not to look like a lost puppy and failing when a man wearing a UFC crew shirt comes over to me with furrowed brows, “Who’re you looking for?”

I look at him, his deep voice vibrating against the walls, “Grayson Dolan,” I answer back.

He gives me a once-over and I try not to make a face when he meets my eyes and smirks, “Oh, he’ll like you.” I furrow my brows but decide not to question it as he points down a long hallway, “Four doors down, take a right, then the last door on the left is him- the one that’ll say, Grayson Dolan.” I thanked him even though he was a bit rude, and made my way down.

Once I turn down the hallway I see someone sitting outside one of the rooms on a single chair. I make my way closer and my heart drops into my stomach when I see it’s a girl sitting outside Grayson Dolan’s room, “Hello? Are-Are you okay?”

The girl looks up at me from her phone and gives me a once-over, except it’s different from the way the worker did- she looks annoyed with me. She stands up, her high heels making her about an inch or two taller than me, “Who are you?” She asks, crossing her arms over her chest, pushing her cleavage up.

I cough to clear my throat a little, taken back by her abrasive tone, “I’m a reporter- Are you okay?”

“I’m perfectly fine, and if you’re here for Grayson Dolan- he won’t talk to you.”

“I- I’m sorry, why do you say that?” The woman steps closer to me and I try not to gag at the smell of her cheap, overused perfume. I step back from her and she straightens up slightly, glowering at me.

“Just run along, maybe you’ll understand when you’re grown,” She says, looking back at her phone, when she glances up and sees I’m not leaving she rolls her eyes, “Grayson Dolan doesn’t talk to reporters. I wouldn’t be surprised if you weren’t actually a reporter anyway, you’re probably just here to fuck him, huh? Get in line,” She laughs.

My whole body feels like it’s on fire. I don’t understand why she’s being so rude and malicious towards me but I have to get this interview. I can’t let people like her bring me down anymore. When she gives me a fake smile and sits back down, I decide to be the bigger person. Not snapping back at her and ignoring her. Because she doesn’t know me and she doesn’t know what I’ve been through.

The door opens before I can say anything anyways and we both look over, startled. A man looks over at us, then turn and glances back inside the room before he nods, looking at me, and asking what my name is, “Lily Taylor, here with Ace Publis-” I try to tell him but he cuts me off opening the door wider and my eyes widen as he tells me to come in. I try to keep from laughing when the girl asks if she can come in but he just shakes his head at her, I turn around quickly before he shuts the door, “If I were you- I wouldn’t lie to others and say you’re around his age, it’s very obvious that you’re old enough to be his mom,” And the door shuts on her shocked face.

I realize my heart is pounding in my ears and that is probably the meanest thing I’ve ever done, “I should probably apologize,” I whisper to myself and jump slightly when I hear a deep chuckle.

“What can I help you with, Ms. Taylor?” My shoulders tense at the familiar voice and I turn around slowly, facing a couch with a very amused Grayson Dolan sitting on it.

“I- I’m so sorry for being so rude to her. I didn’t mean to be.”

“Why do you think I’d care about her? She’s been sitting out there for two hours,” He laughs and I think he caught the raise of my eyebrow but ignores it, “I asked you once, Ms. Taylor, I don’t like repeating myself.” He reminds me of his question.

I square my shoulders, “I’m here with Ace Publishing & Co., I would love if you could answer some questions for me,” I smile at him, trying to come off as friendly.

His amused expression drops and he scoffs, “You’re one of them? God- here I was hoping you were a die-hard fan. Was going to make you feel very special,” He smirks at me and I scrunch my nose out of habit at his gross words. I quickly stop, realizing I need this, “Frank- show Ms. Taylor out please,” He sighs, and my eyes widen and I stick my hands out and Frank stops moving for a second.

“Wait! Wait! Please I-” Frank huffs at my refusal to move and grabs my arm as I move closer to Grayson, “Please. I wouldn’t be this adamant if I didn’t need this. Please. My career is counting on this moment. Please, I will get down on my knees and beg if I have to, please,” I put my hands in a pleading gesture, hoping he’d take pity.

He holds his hand up to Frank and he lets go of my arm, I sigh and straighten up a little, hoping to gain back some of the dignity I seemed to have lost, “What do you mean?” He cocks his head to the side curiously and I blush, glancing at the ground.

“My boss he uh- he told me that if I don’t get at least a quote from you I can kiss my job goodbye and well, it’s not the best job but I’ve worked my ass off to get where I’m at and he’s being unfair and I understand that this isn’t your problem and I understand why you don’t like to talk to interviewers-”

He cuts me off, “You know why I don’t talk to interviewers?” I look up at him and nod meekly, “Why? Explain it to me,” he crosses his arms and I think he might be upset with me.

I look back down at the ground and take a breath, glancing back up at him through my lashes, “You don’t do interviews because doing an interview is personal and revealing. You’re scar- scared to let the world see who the Grayson Dolan is because you don’t think they’ll like you as much.”

He cocks his eyebrow and uncrosses his arm, sighing, looking away from me to the wall, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he contemplates for a minute, “You got like 20 minutes to ask me whatever you want, and no stupid questions that all the interviewers ask, okay?” I nod and move to sit in the chair next to the couch.

“Do you mind if I record this? I’d like to keep this paper-free, meaning I don’t have a notebook out and try to write everything down. We’re just going to have a conversation and let it flow. I can stop recording at any time if you say something you’d like erased. I’m not here to expose you, just here to get to know you. As a person. Not as a fighter. I’m not going to ask you anything about how being a fighter’s been or what your inspiration is. I’m going to ask you about you. As a whole. Because the UFC is not your personality,” I explain to him, pulling my phone out and pulling up my voice memos app and looking back up to him, waiting for an answer.

He stares at me until finally, I say his name quietly, hoping he’s okay, he blinks and flushes, shifting, “Sorry, y-yeah, that’s okay. I just- I didn’t expect you to be like- acting like a human.”

I laugh and start recording, “Maybe that means I’m a bad journalist? I don’t know- I feel like it’s easier to connect and get the questions in without papers and cameras and all that other stuff.”

(this part is going to be a dialogue as though we are just listening to the recording)

“That makes sense, and no I can tell you’re going to be great, you treat me like I’m just- a guy, which doesn’t happen often.”

“I bet, you don’t deserve that though. Okay, I’m going to start us off with some icebreakers- so tell me what your childhood dream job was, your favorite ice cream flavor, and 3 things you do on the weekends.”

“Oh, jeez, what is this- first day of 6th grade? Fine- Uh, I always wanted to be a pro wrestler, that was my dream job as a kid. My favorite- vegan- ice cream flavor is probably mint chocolate chip. And, uhm, three things I do on the weekends...okay okay I got it; eat, sleep, workout. Now you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you, Miss Reporter. If you want this to flow you gotta participate as well.”

“Okay, fine. Uh- as a kid I always wanted to be a veterinarian, and then when I was like 10 I realized I wanted to be a writer. My favorite ice cream flavor is probably mint chocolate chip as well. And on the weekends...I’d probably say; read, watch fights with my dad, and drink tea with my best friend at a cafe.”

“Every single weekend?”

“Yeah, my dad lives on the other side of the country so we do a FaceTime call and watch UFC together. My roommate has a job that takes up a lot of her time during the week so we go to this small cafe by our house every weekend.”

“Wow.”

(this is where the rest of the interview would be but, for later in the timeline, we aren’t going to cover every question she asks him :))

“Okay, now tell me about your family. Where you grew up, were your parents married, did you have a dog, and how do you think this all helped make you the man you are today?”

“I grew up in New Jersey; my dad left when I was 10. I’m allergic to dogs and cats, so I have a parrot named Gizmo. My mom never remarried and my sister lives with her. My brother and I moved to LA when we were 18, with no money, no job, just hope. We went to a gym and asked them if they’d train us. The next thing I knew, my brother was getting a job working at the gym and becoming one of my trainers. I learned how to fight and used my wrestling experience and worked my way into the UFC.”

“You didn’t answer my last question.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No, you told me how you got started in the UFC. I don’t want to know about that- everyone knows that story already. I want to know how you think the things you went through as a child have shaped you as a person.”

“I- I guess- I don’t know, to be honest. I don’t think much of who I’ve become so that question is hard to answer.”

“Why do you say that? You are one of the most accomplished men in America.”

“To others, but this- I wasn’t supposed to be a fighter. Everyone sees me as accomplished but I just feel like this was an accident. There was no great event in my life that caused me to become an MMA fighter- it just happened.”

“You don’t believe in fate, Mr. Dolan?”

“No, I don’t. Do you, Ms. Taylor?”

“Yes, I believe that we all have a path we are meant to follow and that everything happens for a reason.”

“Why?”

“Because- I don’t know- it’s nicer than the alternative to me, I guess. I don’t want to live in a world where nothing has a reason behind it. We’ll move on to the next question. You don’t disclose personal information; relationships, family, children, etcetera.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“Why is that? Are you afraid?”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“The same reason I said earlier as to why you don’t like interviews; you are scared people will see the real Grayson Dolan and not like you as much or think you’re different.”

“Are you like- a profiler or something? Why do you think that?”

“I’m not a profiler- I’m a journalist. It’s my job to look for clues, pick up on the small things about someone no one else would notice.”

“Ok, I’ll accept that. Is it my turn to ask you questions?”

“No that’s not how this works.”

“You said you wanted this to be like a normal conversation, did you not?”

“Yes, I did say that, but-”

“Okay, well, I don’t know about you but normally when I’m getting to know someone- I get to ask questions just like they do.”

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

“I want to know...if you’ll go out with me?”

“What? Like on a- like on a date?”

“Yes, a date, Ms. Taylor.”

“Uh- I don’t know, maybe, I-”

“30 minutes to the fight, Dolan! Gotta get you warmed-up!”

(the story is back to normal now)

“So?” He questions as he stands up and I try to gather all my stuff. Trying to push down the butterflies while I stop the recording. I just continue to get more flustered, especially when he puts his hand out for me and I shyly take it, he pulls me to my feet and I stare at him through my lashes.

“I- sure. On one condition,” I smile slyly up at him and he raises an eyebrow at me, I ignore the unfamiliar feeling between my thighs at the look on his face and continue quickly, “You have to win this fight. I’ll be in the front row watching. If you win- I’ll go out with you.”

He smiles and then chuckles, “I thought you were going to make it hard? I could win this fight in my sleep baby, I’ll let you know the time after the fight, just stick around, yeah?”

I snort and roll my eyes, ignoring the pull on my heart when he calls me baby, “I’ll be there,” He smiles at me again and I jump a little in surprise when I feel his warm, large hand on the small of my back, he opens the door for me and leads me into the hallway.

I try not to laugh at the face of the Instagram model when she sees Grayson’s hand on me, “I’ll be looking for you in the front row, just so you know.” He teases.

I smile at him and kiss him on the cheek, “I’ll be the one cheering the loudest. Knock Em dead!” I walk away quickly and glance back seeing him standing there, his right hand gently going up to touch the spot I kissed and we both blush. My heart drops into my stomach when he looks over and sees the model. I have to turn the corner and get to my seat so I don’t see how he reacted. He wouldn’t sleep with her right after asking me out, would he? My subconscious snaps back; you barely know the man! Maybe he does this all the time! I push her down and ignore the bad feeling in my gut.

As I sit down in my seat, everything that just happened hits me and I slouch into my seat, what. the. fuck. I’m going on a date with Grayson Dolan! I got an interview with Grayson Dolan! I kissed Grayson Dolan on the cheek! I bite back a smile and take out my phone, taking a video showing me smiling at the camera, then flipping the camera around and showing off how close I am to the octagon. I sent it to my dad quickly.

He responds almost immediately.

*From Daddy: Wow!! So cool! Have tons of fun! Not too much though! Not ready to be a grandpa...yet ;)

I snort and roll my eyes, responding and then turning my phone off when the lights in the arena dim.

*To Daddy: Lmao, shut up. I’ll try to have fun though! The main card is starting! I’ll talk to you later, love you <3

After I watch a few of the fights before Graysons’, I take some pictures and jot down some information about the fights and who won, knowing it’ll add more substance to my piece.

I watch as the whole arena transforms and the whole place is bursting with barely-contained energy and the place goes dark. Suddenly, lights start beaming and music starts playing, I smile at the Kid Cudi (each fight he uses a different Cudi song) choice for tonight- Enter Galactic as it blasts through the speakers everyone goes wild, Grayson moving swiftly to the octagon with his head low and singing the song softly to himself. I can tell he’s not the same Grayson I was talking to, he has flipped the switch- as he told me he does- and is now The Grayson Dolan- UFC Fighter and Champion.

He takes his shirt off and I blush at his tan skin, the rippling muscles making my brain go straight in the gutter. The ‘doc’ pats him down and puts vaseline on his face. I try not to laugh at how weird he looks with his eyebrows slicked down.

He makes his way into the octagon and I see him scanning the front row when his eyes land on mine. I smile at him but he just gives me a curt nod in response before turning away. I’m taken aback by his attitude but I know he has to stay in his fighter mentality.

The other fighter, Dominick Reyes, comes in and he has a good amount of people cheer for him but the majority of the arena boos when he comes out. I know that having some of how this fight goes in my article will make it look better because it’s such a big deal, so I jot some notes down, some about Grayson and some about Reyes.

I subconsciously chew on my nail, scolding myself when I realize what I’m doing. He’s going to win. I tell myself to calm down, I’ve never been to a fight before so the chaotic and anxiety-filled energy around me must be getting to my head.

The ref announces them both, and then they go to the middle, Grayson goes to touch Reyes’ fist, but Reyes pulls back and smirks at Grayson, “C’mon pretty boy,” he sings.

Grayson’s jaw clenches and he starts moving around the octagon, Reyes slowly falling into a pattern of chasing him around. Grayson continues to step to the right until suddenly, he moves to the left, and Reyes doesn’t see it. I watch in astonishment as he puts all of his power into the punch, hitting Reyes perfectly on the temple. Reyes drops to the ground and Grayson’s about to follow him to the mat but the ref stops him, officially calling the fight. Grayson looks over at me, my mouth hanging wide open and he smirks, winking at me.

That asshole just winked at me.

I stand up quickly, cheering loudly with everyone else and he shakes his head, turning back to his team as they run into the octagon to hug him. Once Grayson is done with everything and the crowd starts shuffling out, Grayson comes over to me, “D’you see that?” He smiles and I smile back.

“Yeah, yeah, I saw,” He chuckles and grabs my arm pulling me into him.

I gasp as I hit his hard, sweaty chest, “You’re sweaty,” I scrunch my nose up and try to pull away but he tightens his grip, staring down at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You owe me a date,” He responds and I roll my eyes, ignoring the hammering of my heart at how close we are to each other.

“What time and where?” I say, acting bored.

He chuckles down at me, “I’ll pick you up at 5:30. This Saturday. Just bring your beautiful self and don’t worry about anything else.”

“What’s the dress code?” I raise my eyebrow and he shrugs.

“Whatever you want to wear, although I’ll tell you right now they might frown upon you wearing lingerie or something like that.”

I snort and as he moves away from me a little and we start walking behind his team I realize that I’m a lot colder than I realized, rubbing my arms subconsciously and realizing that I left my sweater in the car damn it.

Grayson notices me rubbing my arms and bumps my shoulder, “You cold?”

“A little. I have a sweater in the car, I’ll be fine.”

He frowns as he opens the door to his dressing(?) room, “I have a jacket you can wear.”

He goes over to a chair in the corner and grabs a big, soft black jacket with DOLAN on the back and the UFC and Reebok logo on the front. I shake my head, “No, r-really it’s- it’s okay,”

“Just take it, you can give it back later, s’not a big deal, I don’t need it. I’m way too hot right now.”

He hands it over to me and I look down at it in his hands and then glance back at him, crossing my arms. He rolls his eyes and comes over to me, putting it on my shoulders and looking down at me, “Just wear it. Please?” He whispers and I flush, seeing that if I moved too fast our lips would be touching.

I nod softly and he steps back. I take a deep breath and put my arms through the sleeves and the jacket immediately warms me. I relax into the warmth and pull it tighter around me and he smirks, “Like you in my clothes.”

I blush and look down, “I- I should be goi-going,” I point my thumb at the door and he bites back a smile.

“Yeah, I’ll see you Saturday then?”

I nod and stutter out a response as I walk back to the door, “Y-yep! 5:30! Wait- I didn’t give you my address o-or my phone num-Ow!” I yelp in surprise when the door handle digs into my lower back and he can’t hold back his laugh as he walks over to me, trapping me between him and the door.

I swallow at his large frame covering me up, his arms resting on each side of the wall by my head, I can see his large biceps and the veins running up his arms in my peripheral vision. He smirks and leans down, “Check your pocket,” he says softly and I look up at him with furrowed brows.

I slowly move my hands to the jacket pockets and after digging around a little I feel a small piece of paper in the right pocket. I pull it out and open it up. I glance up at him in surprise at the digits scribbled onto the paper.

“H-How did you- why-” He cuts me off by moving away from me, my body on fire from how close he had been to me.

I move off the door when he motions for me to move and he opens the door, “Ms. Taylor,” He says, trying to hide a smirk.

I scoff incredulously and walk past him, stopping outside the door in the cold hallway, I turn back to look at him before I walk away to go have a panic attack in my car, “Mr. Dolan.”

A/n: okayyy so I know it’s bad and I’ll be editing it soon but I’m posting this on an ipad lmfao so please cut me some slack.

Tag List:

@pineappledols @episkygrant @georgia302 @dolan-habits @leahs-existentialcrisis @persistence-ofmemories @bubsdolan @ohdolans @vinylhazza @vintagedolan @astrodolan @zeusgrayson @deeperdolan @blindedbythelightt @dolsobsessionz @evergreendolan @dicedols @plantbasedgray

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serendipityjxmn · 3 years

Text

Mr. President

Chapter 6

TW: None

Words Count: 2.1k

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 7

You shower quickly that morning, springing a little in your steps as you make your way to your closet, picking an attire for that day. Today, you have an interview for one of the many secretarial positions that you apply for yesterday. You choose a beige pencil skirt and a white blouse. Your wounds are still visible but nothing that can’t be covered with makeup. You do it minimally, just so you don’t look sick or too pale.

You stare at the large signboard saying ‘Bangtan Inc’. Taking a deep breath, you enter the building. Within half an hour, you’re escorted to the fifth floor of the company and you’re waiting in line to be interviewed by the Human Resources manager after filling up several documents. There are quite a number of interviewees and you’re slotted as the last one.

An hour later, you’re done with your interview with the manager and then you’re asked to wait again at waiting area. The manager who introduces herself as Irene approaches you after a while.

“Miss Y/N, you’re going to have the second interview with Mr. President. Are you ready?”

Nervousness begins to fill you up. You didn’t know that there would be two sessions for the interview. Nevertheless, you nod and follow after her. She leads you to the seventh floor and the hallways look even more lavish at this floor.

“You can come in now. Mr. President’s ready.” She leads you in and you enter together with her. “Mr. Park, Miss Y/N is here.”

Mr. Park…? It can’t be the Mr. Park that I know.. right?

When the man sitting on his desk at far end of the room looks up, things can’t be more fucked up than this.

It was him. His. His fucking company.

He raises from his seat and freezes when he sees you too. His eyes rake you from top to bottom and this has to make the list of top embarrassing moments in your life. Should you run away now?

“Miss Y/N, please have a seat.” Irene interrupts. It’s too late to run away now, right..?

Your eyes widen as you stare at Jimin. He seems to regain his composure and leisurely takes his seat again, crossing his legs and starts playing with his fingers in what could be such intimidating gesture.

You swallow and slowly takes your seat and fixes your skirt to prevent it from riding up, missing the way his eyes travel down your legs for a split second. You watch as Irene hands him documents that you assume contains your information.

Oh no. You haven’t been entirely truthful with your information…

“So Miss Y/N, you’re single?” He asks casually, no doubt having read the part in your file. You pray that the ground swallows you whole.

You fidget with your hands, swallowing hard. You’ve grown used to playing with your wedding ring on your finger but you purposely take it off today since you’ve so conveniently mention your status is single. He looks down at your hand and you miss the way his expression becomes stern when he sees your empty finger.

“Y-yes.”

For a moment, he just looks at you and you think you’ll melt under his stare. Jimin always stares at you like he’s able to see you through and every time, you’d ask God to grant you a mind reading ability just so you can know what he’s thinking about.

You know everything’s already gone into a mess today. This interview session is basically moot now that the person interviewing is actually your own freaking husband. You’re ready to turn on your heels at any second. You’re literally just waiting for him to utter words like ‘get out’ or ‘get lost’.

Yet he excuses you and you stand waiting outside as he speaks to Irene. She emerges not long after that, a smile plastered on her beautiful face.

“Miss Y/N! I’m pleased to inform that you’ve been hired!”

What on actual earth.

“You must’ve caught Mr. Park’s interest. We usually filter most of the applicants again and this would normally takes about another week before we can give results but Mr. Park seems satisfied with you.”

You did not expect this turn of events at all.

“So, even though the position is secretarial position, the job scope is actually kind of wide. You will mostly be attending to Mr. President’s needs but you will also be helping several bits here and there with the office people there. I’ll introduce you to the office mates in a while.”

So you spend the rest of the day being led by Irene everywhere as she tells you most of the things you need to know and introduces you to other personnels in the office. Your brain can’t really focus on Irene’s words as you assume you’re doomed once you’re home with Jimin.

Should you quit that instant? Don’t come for work tomorrow?

But that would be the most unprofessional thing to do. You groan.

“Oh, Miss Y/N. It’s almost five now. You don’t really have much to do anyway for today so you can just head home today.” Irene tells you.

You automatically looks up at the double door that leads to Jimin’s office. Should you be going home with him..?

You shake your head immediately. It’s best if this is kept a secret from everyone for now. You don’t feel like he’s going to head home yet since Jimin usually comes home at about 7PM so you rush to pack your things and quickly heads home.

You pace back and forth in the kitchen. Your head had been playing a thousand different scenarios with how Jimin would react once he’s home and you can’t help feeling more anxious by the second. You hear the door opens then and your pulse quickens. You don’t dare to meet him at the door so you just remain in the kitchen.

You’re so immersed in your thoughts that you don’t hear him come down a while later.

“What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?” He growls and you jump. You turn to see him looking extremely pissed off.

“Jimin- I’m sorry- I wanted to tell you last night but I- I forgot.” You say as he takes his seat on the dining table and you rush to tend at him. He doesn’t seem impressed at all.

“My company? Are you fucking kidding me?” He hisses and you recoils slightly.

“I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t know it’s your company. The last time I saw you was at Parks Corporations and- why were you-“ You stop mid sentence. All of a sudden it makes sense. You remember Mrs. Lee telling you that Jimin will be inheriting his father’s company and it must’ve been Parks Corporation while Bangtan Inc is the tech company that he builds together with his friends. Suddenly, you feel stupid for not making your research. On top of it all, it’s about your husband. You, above all, should know about it. “I- I just feel guilty staying home and- I just thought I should help with the finances as well.. after all you’re not really my husband.. you’re a stranger.. it’s not right to just leech off you and do nothing-”

“So your ego is wounded?” He scoffs.

You sigh. You don’t want to argue with him. You don’t like arguing with him or making him angry. “You could’ve not accepted me..” You mumble.

“The fuck did you say?” He snaps and you immediately straightens.

“C-can we remain discreet though? I don’t want to tell anyone. We-we can take separate rides to the office.”

“Whatever you say.”

The next morning you wake up earlier than Jimin. It feels weird to actually see him lying on the bed, the same freaking bed with you. Though the bed is large enough for the both of you to come nowhere near each other, it still feels strange. You get ready quickly then heads downstairs to prepare breakfast for your husband.

Waiting on the toast, your fingers play with your necklace. Yesterday, you went to some cheap jewellery store and buys an empty silver necklace. Then, you put your wedding ring as the pendant and happily wears it. You can’t put it on your finger while at work so you resolve to use it as your necklace.

You don’t wait for Jimin to come down for breakfast and you feel sorry for that but you don’t really want to arrive at work at the same time Jimin does.

At work, contrary to your assumption, your work doesn’t really involve you to speak directly with Jimin as you mostly arrange his schedules and keys in things in the computer, deals with people asking for appointments and most of your time is taken by helping colleagues at the office as well with minor tasks like photocopying or sending fax. Any direct information that needs to be conveyed to Jimin is mostly done by Irene. Perhaps, she thinks you are not up to the task yet. You’re secretly relieved though.

Days passes quite quickly and before you know it, about a week has passed since you’ve started working at Bangtan Inc. Now that you think about it, working here doesn’t seem so bad. You don’t see much of Jimin these days, only on certain days when he comes home early and has his dinner at home.

You somehow make a promise to yourself to make the best of this marriage so you take special care of Jimin’s meals and what he wears to work everyday. To be honest, you don’t have to. Mrs. Lee can make anything and everything if you ask her but you refuse to. Making meals is probably the only thing you can do for your very self sustained husband even if he’s just a temporary husband, you did promise yourself to do it so you did.

You wake up early to prepare breakfast, goes to work and rushes home to prepare dinner almost every day. Most of the time though, you’re already asleep by the time he comes home so you’ve grown used to leaving sticky notes on the dining table, telling him to reheat the dishes you cooked if he wants to eat.

You don’t really expect him to eat the dishes you made but much to your surprise, he still eats them everyday without fail though sometimes he may not finish them but the thought still makes you smile.

It somehow exhausts you more nowadays with your packed schedule so you almost always fall asleep as soon as you lay on the bed at night.

You also slowly grasp your job scope at work. You learn a lot of things about Jimin as well. His schedule is always packed with meetings and when he isn’t in them, he’s busy discussing with the staffs to prepare for the next meeting. You somehow feel sorry for him. That’s also one of the reason why you couldn’t miss preparing his meal everyday although you’re tired. You learn that he tends to forget to eat whenever he’s too caught up in work.

That night, Jimin comes home early. You jump when he enters the kitchen while you’re still preparing his meal. He’s freshly showered and he smells so tantalising. He always smells good, you think.

“I’m sorry. I came home late. It’ll be ready soon if you can just wait for another.. 5 minutes?”

He walks to the fridge then takes a glass of orange juice. “If you don’t have time, we can just order take out next time. You don’t have to cook everyday.”

But you want to, your mind says. But you don’t say it out loud.

He takes his seat on the dining table and you feel his heavy gaze from behind you, making the hairs on your skin stand. You wish he’d look at something else instead.

You hover around once you set the table for Jimin which you notice is an occupational hazard of yours just in case the other party still needs you to amend anything so you would usually wait until that said party is satisfied.

Jimin wastes no time snapping at you. “Won’t you sit down and eat?!”

Flustered, you quickly take your seat, shaking your head for making him angry again. You eat in silence then.

“How’s work?” He asks after a while, taking you off guard.

You blink rapidly and stares at him for a few moments before answering, “It’s fine.” You hesitate to continue yet you can’t resist it. “I can’t really say no when the boss is right in front of me, right?”

Upon hearing that, he smiles.

He freaking smiles.

It’s so blinding it literally renders you speechless. He has this adorable eye smile and it makes him look like a total softie, none at all the one that is always intimidating and scowling at you.

And maybe, just maybe, something flutters in your stomach at that time. But you’re too blinded to notice.

Link to Chapter 7

Posted on 210409 9:00PM

#serendipityjxmn #serendipityjxmnmrpresident #mrpresident #bts fic #jimin fic #jimin au #park jimin #parkjimin #jimin smut #smut #kpop #mafia #jimin mafia #ceo jimin #bts smut #bts au #bts mafia

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davidobitch · 3 years

Text

Traditions | Timothee Chalamet

okay so I’m well aware I don’t ever write for Timothee Chalamet but I really wanted to write this and it didn’t seem fitting for anyone else I usually write about?? I hope you like it even though the timing is like...18 days late...oops

I didn’t proof read this so my apologies if it sounds like a 5th grader wrote it.

anything written in italics is the past! enjoy xx

3 years. 156 weeks. 1,095 days.

That’s how long you’ve spent with Timothee. You love him with everything you have inside you but things haven’t been okay lately, not for the past year almost. Neither of you wanted this to be ‘right person, wrong time’. You both tried to fight for your relationship to work out and go back to how things used to be...but that was up until last month.

Timothee has been busy with his movies and you’ve been busy with your business. With the year coming to an end, you both and to get everything done before the new year. You tried not to think that this was the end. You kept telling yourself that it was only for this month then you and Timothee could go back to working everything out. But part of you knew that maybe this really was the end.

You were just getting home from a launch party when Timothee was getting ready to leave.

“Hi,” you said quietly, dropping your purse on the table, “Another shoot?” you kept your eyes on your boyfriend, watching him go over his mental checklist of everything he needed.

Timothee nodded his head, turning in circles looking for what was probably his keys. You glanced behind him, seeing them in the other room on the coffee table.

Passing by him, Timothee followed you with his eyes hoping you weren’t walking away from him without a goodbye. He heard his keys jingle in your shot and let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” he breathed out, standing in front of you. His hand lingered on yours, letting his fingers trace your bones.

“Promise me you’ll be back tonight?” your stare was fixed on your intertwined hands, not wanting him to let go.

Timothee squeezed your hand before pulling away, “Of course. You know I’ll be here.”

You and Timothee always threw a New Years Eve party, it was something both of you looked forward to each year.

He gave you a quick kiss before leaving the house, letting silence seep through the walls. It hasn’t been long since you started staying at Timothee’s daily. It’s only been a year, if that, which ironically is when everything started going wrong in the relationship. Coincidence? Probably, but you refused to believe that. Most nights you couldn’t help but wonder if you moving in was the reason you guys started fighting almost weekly.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts, you started picking up around the place, wanting the house to be spotless by tonight.

You have sent Timothee countless texts reminding him what time people will be over and last minute things he needed to buy. It’s been three hours and you haven’t heard back from him. You assumed he was just getting caught up in shooting or discussing work stuff, but when another three hours passed by with no call or texts, you had a bad feeling he was bailing out tonight.

You texted Timmy again, another reminder of what time to be home and asking him to pick up the rest of the party stuff for you. You begged him not to be late tonight, or even just not show up at all. Time was slowly running out and you decided to just run out and buy everything yourself. On the verge of tears, you called Timothee and to your dismay...it went straight to voicemail. You tried holding in your cries as you left him yet another message, telling him tonight was make or break the relationship. It was either he shows up by midnight or you pack your bags tomorrow morning and move out. You didn’t care anymore as you let your feelings out fully for the first time in months.

You needed the drive home to clear your head and gather yourself before having to pretend your relationship is perfect.

It was just barely 9pm and you still had to hurry up and be ready by 10. You called a couple friends to come over early to help finish setting up so you can shower and look presentable.

“Thank you guys so much,” you said as you entered the kitchen where your friends were arranging the cups and drinks, “T’s been so caught up at work today. I just- I love you guys.”

“We love you of course,” your friend, Ashley says as she grabs a bottle of tequila and 3 glasses, “To a new year,” she says, raising her glass.

“To a new year,” you and your other friend say in unison.

The liquid burns as it travels down your throat, warming your entire body. You took another shot before going back to finish getting ready.

You picked out your best little black dress, wanting Timothee to see what he’s losing if he decides to not show up tonight. Your hair was curled, your face was glammed up, and you were ready to black out everything tonight.

You finished just in time for all your’s and Timothee’s friends to show up, letting the night begin.

You were about 5 tequila shots and 3 drinks in when the clock hit 11:45. You checked your phone seeing you had no calls or texts from your boyfriend. You were losing hope with every passing second and you didn’t care to hide it anymore.

You were on the balcony with your friends when your mouth started to ramble. “T isn’t coming tonight. Or at least I don’t think he is. He’s been gone for the past 15 hours and I’m pretty sure we’re breaking up tonight. Fuck we should’ve broken up a year ago. You know nothing has been the same since I moved in?” You took another drink before continuing, silently hoping your friends would cut you off any second now, “We haven’t had sex in god knows how long. I don’t get to see him for longer than 4 minutes a day. We tried so hard to make things work which was such a bullshit move.” You let out a shaky breath, knowing you were a couple words away from crying and that was the last thing you wanted to do tonight. Finishing off your drink, you closed your eyes and let the night breeze calm you down.

“We see more than you think, y/n,” Ashley says, pouring half of her cup into yours, “We just don’t say anything. You know we love you and we will continue to support you no matter what you choose to do.”

“And don’t give up on Timmy not coming just yet. He still has 5 minutes!” you sip on your drink, trying to remain optimistic. Olivia’s right, he still has time..but if he hasn’t showed up in the past 5 hours, he’s not going to in the next 5 minutes.

“I really thought he was the one, y’know?” you mutter into your cup, watching the liquid swish from side to side.

Your friends wrap their arms around you, pulling you in for a group hug. “Come on, let’s do a couple shots before the ball drops.” Olivia pulls you back inside and to the kitchen, placing 2 shot glasses in front of each of you.

“Cheers to 2021. A year of new beginnings and more memories than we will remember!” Ashley yells, bringing her glass up.

11:58. You knocked one of the shots back, allowing it to fog your brain.

“Cheers to y/n, for being the toughest bitch we know,” Olivia shouts as she raises her glass, you and Ashlet following her actions.

11:59. Another shot down.

You glanced around the room as there was 30 seconds left in the year. No tall, lanky, brown haired boy in sight. You wanted to cry and scream and run out of the house but instead, you grabbed the bottle of vodka and made your way to the balcony.

You caught your friends attention, shaking your head as if to tell them you’re fine but not to follow you. The glass door slid shut behind you as everyone started counting down.

“10!”

“Kiss me tonight,” you boldly said to Timothee, “None of our friends are single. We’re the only losers who have nobody. So be my new year’s kiss.” The first new year’s eve you and Timmy spent together. Your first year of being friends.

“9!”

“Are you going to force me into kissing you again?” Timothee jokes as he comes up behind you, almost causing you to spill your drink from scaring you.

“First of all, you can’t creep up on a girl like that!” you swatted at his chest before taking a sip of your drink, “Second of all, I didn’t force you to do anything.” Everyone around you was counting down, “Third of all,” just as the clock hit 12:00, you pulled Tim’s face to your level, gently pressing your lips to his, “absolutely.”

“8!”

You had spent the entire night by Timothee’s side. This was your first year spending New Years with just him and his hometown friends. You felt lost without your usual crew bullying you into kissing Timmy for another year. “What do you say we do this every year,” Timothee nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, placing light kisses on your skin.

You let out a giggle, confused at his choice of words, “T we do this every year already,” you turned around to face him, your hands playing with the bottom of his shirt.

“No I mean as a couple. I want you to be my girlfriend,”

“7!”

“I love you,” Timothee drunkenly yelled in your ear, causing a bright smile to spread across your face.

“You’re drunk, baby,” you rolled your eyes. Neither of you have said the L word before and this wasn’t the way you expected it to happen.

“Maybe, but I don’t want to spend another year not telling you every day.”

“6!”

“Timmy!” you yelled over the music, wrapping your arms around his waist, “You have 5 seconds to kiss me or I’m finding another boy!” you giggled as Timothee turned around in your arms, grabbing your face and pulling you into him just as the new year hit.

“5!”

You were crowded into a small corner of your friends kitchen, having been forced to spend the night with them instead of your boyfriend. Timothee was out in New York for a photoshoot and couldn’t make it home in time for your “tradition”.

“I wish you were here,” you mumbled, making a pouty face at your phone screen, “Now I have to kiss Ashley this year and that’s not fun!” You yelled, hoping she would hear you from across the way. You changed your camera to face here, showing Timothee her middle finger in the air, “See, she’s mean. And so are you for not being here.”

Your eyes wandered to the time on the stove clock, seeing as it just hit midnight.

“Happy new year, baby,” Timothee says. You look down at your phone screen to see the facetime was over. Confused as to how the call ended but you could still hear his voice, you glanced up at your friends to see them all staring at you with giddy smiles.

“Can you turn around and kiss me already?” Tears blurred your vision as you quickly spun around and jumped into your boyfriend’s arms.

“4!”

“Please please please don’t hate me,” Timothee says as he wraps his arms around you. “I didn’t realize the time and I know I fucked up, but you know I wouldn’t miss this for the world, y/n” This was the first year he almost missed being your new year’s kiss and as much as you wanted to kill him for it, you knew it wasn’t his fault.

“You’re so fucking lucky you’re cute,” you said, shaking your head and pulling on his shirt, bringing his body into yours.

“3!”

Another shot in your system, trying to rid the memories of the past 7 New Year’s Eve nights. Your mind started playing games with you. Timothee’s voice was echoing all around you, like he was actually with you.

“2!”

“Baby,” you could hear Timmy say, but you tried to push it out of your thoughts. “Please don’t ignore me. I’m so fucking sorry,” You could smell his cologne behind you as a warm touch could be felt on your wrist. Your breath was shaky as you turned to face the man behind you, hoping this was reality and you weren’t drunkenly imagining this.

“1!”

“I’m here. I’m always going to be here. For the next whatever years, I’m 100% here. No more long days without you. No more missing date nights. This is my promise to you, y/n.” Timothee says, his eyes filled with liquid.

“Happy new year!”

You threw your arms around his neck, almost falling backwards as you crashed your lips into his. “I love you, forever.” you muttered against his lips, “Thank you, T.”

*****

“Why can’t we just spend this year at home with our friends like we always do?” you asked Timothee as he pulled you out onto the balcony with him. This year he took you to Paris for New Years Eve and as grateful as you were for this mini trip, you didn’t want to break tradition.

“Because like you said, we spend every year at home with our friends. It’s never been just us.”

Ever since he promised to put more time into the relationship, everything has been almost perfect. Of course you still had your occasional fight, but that’s to be expected and it was never over anything stupid. Well...most of the time.

“I guess it would be nice to spend it alone,” you leaned your head against Timothee’s chest as you took in the site in front of you.

The hotel room had a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower, dead center in front of you. You’ve seen the structure many times in the past but it was never this beautiful.

“I love you, you know that?” he whispers against your neck, his hands gently squeezing your hips.

You nodded but stayed silent, letting the music from inside fill the space around you. Timothee started to sway with you as your favorite song started to play in the background.

“I would love to assume it’s such a coincidence that Robbers is playing right now,” you smiled, teasing your boyfriend, “But I guess I should give you credit for planning this.”

Timothee takes your hand in his and spins you around into him as his other hand settles on your hip.

The two of you danced around the balcony together as your song went on and all of Paris could be heard counting down the end of the year.

“Last year I made you a promise to put more effort in. We had a hard year and I know I put you through a lot and I can’t apologize enough for that, baby. But here we are 365 days later, getting to have another new year’s kiss together. I thank you every day for forcing me to kiss you all those years ago ‘cause we both know I would have never had the balls to make the move.” Timothee’s voice was soft, barely even audible with all the other noise happening around you. “But a lot has changed since that first kiss. A lot between us but also with us separately. I never want to spend New Years, let alone any day, without you.” Timothee abruptly stopped moving and pulled away from you as fireworks were being set off all around the city. You pulled your eyes from him for a split second to watch the sky light up with different colors.

What you didn’t expect to see when you brought your attention back to him, was Timmy on one knee, with a ring being held up towards you.

“I’m making another promise to you, to love you forever, to always put you first. You’ve been my life for the past 6 years and even though we were together for only 4 of those years, I still couldn’t imagine you not being in my life. You’re my best friend. Mon amour. I want to spend every waking moment with you. I want you to yell at me when my socks are in random parts of the house. I want to have little mini versions of us running around and drawing on walls. When all my dreams come true, you’re the one I want next to me. It’s you, baby. It’s always been you. Marry me, y/n.”

Your hand flew to your mouth as you vigorously nodded your head. You didn’t give Timothee the chance to stand up before you fell to your knees in front of him, falling into his arms. “Of course I’ll marry you, T. You’re the only person I ever want to spend my life with. I love you so so much, mon amour.” You cried as you placed kisses all over his face.

#Timothy chalamet #Timothee chalamet imagine #tchal #tc #masterlist #prompt #imagine #timmy chalamet #timothee fanfic

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some-kindofgnome · 3 years

Text

august slipped away

i. ii.

Otherwise known as the Thanksgiving fic.

characters: mirio x f!reader

wc: 2.6k

warnings: smut (18+ please!), quirkless AU, angst, Thanksgiving long-distance woes, mirio’s very ugly little subaru

notes: Happy Birthday @drapetomaniac! I’m so glad I was able to get this finished on time. I’m so grateful to have met you on this lil site, so consider this my birthday gift to you! 💖 This serves as a part ii to my Kinktober fic “with autumn closing in.” It got ANGSTY. I hope you love it.

on the prompt: “It’s November – the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines.” This beautiful line was written by Lucy Maud Montgomery, a wonderful Canadian writer, in her novel Anne of the Island, published in 1915.

MASTERLIST

Mini Prompt Event!

It’s November – the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines.

Despite the traffic, the drive into your hometown’s been remarkably quiet. You’ve hitched a ride with a friend, and with Starbucks in your cupholders and weeks worth of laundry piled into her trunk, you ride back in near-silence.

She knows what’s on your mind as she pulls off the exit, the all-too-familiar sign that marks your hometown sending a rush of anxiety straight to your gut.

You’re not looking forward to this weekend as much as you should be. You miss your family- your parents, your dog, your bedroom- but there’s another gaping question mark that fills the rest of the weekend, too harrowing to ignore.

Mirio.

After a very tearful goodbye at the end of the summer, things were good between you. You texted all the time and called him whenever you could. You even wrote letters back and forth in the first month of the semester. Mirio’s were never decked out in stickers or lavish penmanship like yours were, but they teared you up all the same.

But college is difficult. And you’re both starting this year, so it’s been a lot for both of you to adjust to. You and Mirio always kind of sailed through high school without too much extra studying, so the amount of work it takes to do well in college has been a massive wake-up call.

It’s putting a strain on your relationship with him. Slowly, at first.

You were too busy with papers and assignments to call during the week, but he was too busy with practices and games and training to call on the weekends. The letters dwindled in frequency and then ceased altogether. Now you’ll go days without hearing from each other at all.

There’s never been a doubt in your mind that long-distance was going to be difficult. But you’re pretty sure it’s not supposed to feel like this.

Your friend drops you off in the driveway and squeezes your tight shoulder. She promises you that it’s going to work out, one way or the other. Then she pulls away to continue to her own city and you climb up the front steps with two garbage bags of laundry in your hands.

You’re attacked by your ecstatic dog at the door, and your mother doesn’t follow far behind. The house is already fragrant with the spiced aroma of baking pumpkin pies, and your mother cries as she hugs you tightly. So do you.

A few minutes later, with your first load of laundry spinning away, you flop onto the couch. To your delight, there’s a text from Mirio. You’re kind of hoping to see him tonight, but you’re not sure what time he was planning on getting into town. Still, a text from him seems promising.

Home yet? It reads.

You’re trying not to let it show that you’re brimming with happiness.

Just got in, you text breezily, curling your knees to your chest with a little smile tugging at your lips. It feels so good to talk to him again here, knowing you’ve got nothing but time to spend with him this weekend.

You text back and forth a little bit, soft little messages about how good it feels to be home and how glad you are that he got home safe. The last message you type out feels indulgent but so good, and you send it with every expectation of an immediate response.

Wanna come over?

Read 7:12 pm

Dull silence persists from your phone. One hour goes by. Two hours. The temptation to send him another message is overwhelming. You’ve been well past the point of avoiding double texts for as long as you can remember.

But this feels… different. Like you shouldn’t bother him. Like, somehow, that’ll only make the silence worse.

So you don’t. Fair enough.

The next day, you’re up to your elbows helping your family get ready for dinner. Your mom has an unfortunate habit of pulling out the stops, but the meal turns out fantastic. Dealing with your extended family is as draining as always, but you’re texting Mirio every so often under the table and he seems happy enough to respond.

You think about bringing up his sudden disappearance last night, but figure he’d been preoccupied with his family. Tonight, his texts are in good spirits.

It’s not until you’re curled up in bed with a belly full of turkey that you try again.

Wanna do something tomorrow? I have brunch in the morning, but I could meet you after.

Read 10:36 pm

Nothing.

Fool me once, you don’t want to let yourself think. But Mirio’s pretty good at putting his phone down when it’s time for bed, so you tell yourself he’s just gone to sleep. He’s gone to sleep and in the morning you’re going to wake up to a sweet little text from him with fresh plans from the afternoon.

Unfortunately, the trend continues. You catch and hold his attention for a few messages a time every day, but every time you mention meeting up in person, you get radio silence. It’s gotten to the point where you know it’s on purpose, and yet every time you fail to confront him, your embarrassment deepens.

Mirio doesn’t play games with you. It feels wrong, to have him jerking your heart around like this. But you give him the benefit of the doubt all weekend.

Finally, it’s Sunday. Your washed, folded laundry is packed neatly in the hallway. You’re finishing up dinner and your family knows, at this point, to keep quiet about Mirio.

You’ve given up on seeing him entirely.

As your family cleans up, you try one more time. You know you shouldn’t. You have every expectation of being treated the same way you have all weekend- why should this time work out any differently?

But you do it anyway.

Hey… I know you might be busy with family stuff, but we’re both going back tomorrow so tonight’s kinda the last chance I can see you…

To your surprise, just a few minutes later, you get a reply,

Want me to pick you up?

Within half an hour, his familiar little Subaru is waiting for you in the dark. Your heart clenches tightly, watching him parked in the driveway. You haven’t seen him in months.

You’d expected a happier reunion.

Still, there’s a sort of lightness that tugs at your heart as you pick your way down the front steps. You tug open the passenger’s side door- the inside of the car is toasty from the rattling little heater that’s always smelled just a little bit burnt.

Mirio has a sad sort of tired smile on his lips, but you can see the relief in his gaze. You’ve almost forgotten what he looks like in real-time like this.

“Hi,” you gasp, almost shyly. You tug the door shut and he shifts the car into gear. You can’t help the little clench of anticipation you get when he puts a hand on the back of your seat to glance over his shoulder.

When he looks back at you, he looks a little brighter.

“Wanna get some coffee?”

He takes you through the Starbucks drive-thru and buys you both iced coffees. The ice rattles cold and sweet inside the cups as he drives you out of town, taking you up the winding road to the point. Neither of you says a thing. You haven’t planned a thing, but you don’t need to.

As you draw closer to the familiar little lookout, your stomach tightens.

Something feels very wrong about the way he’s treating you. By the time he pulls off the road and rolls along the battered gravel path, you’re almost in tears.

You should’ve seen this coming the first time he left you on read. Mirio’s never left you on read before.

“Well,” you mumble, your heart pounding in your throat. You know you’re going to regret this, but it’s killing you to sit in silence. You reach into the centre console and grab your coffee, shaking it weakly in front of him.

“At least you bought me a coffee before breaking up with me.”

Mirio reacts visibly in the dark next to you.

“What?” He looks over, dark eyes shining with betrayal. His blonde brow is firm and set, but there’s genuine surprise in his expression.

“Break up with you?” His voice is trembling. “W-why would I-“

Now you feel even stupider. The tears come, hot and fast and unrelenting. Your next words come in a pinched sob.

“Why wouldn’t you?” You’ve cried like this in front of him before, but this is the first time it’s ever seemed embarrassing.

“I tried to see you all weekend, all I wanted was to see you.” You’re sniffling wildly, and you knee open the glove box because you know he always keeps tissues there. “I missed you so much and-and you wouldn’t even talk to me.”

He whimpers your name, quiet as a prayer. He’s tearing up, too, gripping the steering wheel tightly with his face screwed up in pain.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks. “I was… I thought…”

He’s pausing like you’re going to interrupt him, but you don’t. He bows his head, continuing.

“I was afraid to see you,” he confesses, “because I thought you wanted to break up with me.”

The relief you expect doesn’t come. Instead, a deeper, sicker pain wraps itself around your heart.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you don’t talk to me anymore,” he ejects. “Not in the same way. I… I know you’re busy, and I know I’m busy, but… things just felt different. Ever since Homecoming, I-I just…”

Homecoming was the one weekend that Mirio had been to visit you since the summer. That was a reunion that felt as good as it was supposed to. You’ll never forget bounding out of your residence hall to find him there, leaning against the edge of his little car like it was a souped-up Harley Davidsen. You’ll never forget the way he laughed when you launched yourself into his arms.

But that was where the bliss had stopped.

Homecoming was a bad weekend for him to visit. You should have seen that coming. You were busy with your brand new friendships, hopping from party to party. And though you were both all smiles when he was climbing into his car again on Sunday night, you’d known he left feeling a little neglected.

“Mirio,” you sob, reaching for him. You pull his eyes to yours with a hand under his jaw- a little unshaven, scratchy- and his cheeks are wet with fresh tears of his own. “I missed you like hell. I love you. I mean that every single time I say it. And I-“

You hate this kind of thing with him. Neither of you takes conflict very well. And though there have always been fights, this is the largest reckoning you’ve ever had.

“I had so many plans for us this weekend,” you admit, and the hurt takes over. Because no matter how you resolve this, that’s time that you can never get back. “And now I have to go back tomorrow and so do you and this is all we’re gonna have.”

“I know,” he sniffles right back. His voice is weak. Trembling. You haven’t seen him like this since his dog died, right after you graduated high school. “God, I-I… I’m so sorry.”

He’s reaching for you now, winding his arms awkwardly over the centre console to pull you close. You have to lean way over but you do, burying your face into the chest of his jacket.

You both sob openly, for nobody but yourselves.

“I don’t want it to be like this,” you plead. “I don’t want to be fighting for things to feel right. I can’t take four more years of this, Mirio, I can’t.”

He’s stroking a palm down the back of your head now, burying his nose into your hair.

“It won’t be,” he promises. “I’m gonna try harder. I’m gonna- I promise.”

“It’s both of us,” you reply. Your voice drops as you start to, slowly, regain control. “It’s me too. I need to try harder, too. I don’t want it to end like this.”

You nose your way to the surface, peering up at him. You both look ridiculous, faces pinched and teary. But none of that matters when you’re leaning up and he’s leaning down and he’s kissing you, all soft and loving in that way that used to make you melt.

It still does.

You let it grow heated, let yourself grab him by the cheeks and pour all of the desperate longing you’ve been doing into this kiss. It becomes very clear to you that you’re not going to be getting out of this car a single woman. And relief spreads warm and gooey through your gut.

“I wanna,” you whisper, pulling back with your eyelashes fluttering. Mirio cups your cheeks and warmly swipes the last of your drying tears away. He leans in and nuzzles the chilled tip of your nose with his.

“You sure?”

You bite your lower lip and shoot him a quiet, sly little nod.

This time, when you climb into the backseat together, no blankets or pillows are waiting for you. But you don’t care. You let him splay you across the narrow back seat, hitching one knee up over the backrest and stretching the other one out alongside him.

It’s a good deal colder this time around. And you can’t wait to get to each other. Your clothes are barely shoved out of the way by the time he’s nudging his stiff tip against your folds. You’re pushing the long hem of his sweatshirt out of the way for him, and he looks down at you with such determined adoration that you wonder why you ever doubted his love in the first place.

He eases into you slow and gentle, just like the first time. Very unlike the second time, harried and rushed under the covers of your rickety dorm bed.

You drag his lips to yours while he bottoms out inside you, wrapping that free leg around his hips and keeping him buried tight.

He fucks you just like that, in deep, tiny little strokes that nudge the tenderest parts of your belly and send pleasure trickling right down your spine each time. He kisses every part of your skin that he can reach, whispering his devotion to you over and over and over again until his voice breaks. Until all he can do is grunt and sigh and shake above you as he pours his climax into you, bringing you to a quiet little peak beneath him.

You stay tangled for a long time, despite the cramps quickly developing in your forcibly angled limbs. He lays between your thighs, listening to your heartbeat as your lazy fingers drift through the sweat-damped strands of his golden hair.

“Hey,” he murmurs warmly, lifting his chin to find your eyes. “I wanna drive you back to school tomorrow, okay?”

“What?” You frown. “Mirio, that’s two hours in the opposite direction for you. Don’t-“

“Please,” he insists, and something in his tone makes you stop. He slides his hands up your sides. “I want to. I didn’t… I should’ve seen you more this weekend. Let me. Please?”

You give a breathy little laugh, laying your head back against the edge of the seat. Your heart throbs with that all-too-familiar warmth.

“My mom’ll be pissed,” you tease, and you feel him grin against your chest.

You’re going to be okay.

#mirio x reader #mirio togata x reader #lemillion #mirio togata #mirio #my hero academia #mha fanfic #boku no hero academia #lemillion smut #angst #bnha

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aquaticstyles · 4 years

Text

from the dining table

I know I said I was posting at 7, but I finished earlier than expected :) 5k inspired by the song we all know and love, From the Dining Table. Hope you all enjoy reading! I really liked how this one turned out. As always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated!!!

“Whatcha doin' out here by yourself?"

You nearly jump out of your skin and send the wine sloshing in your glass splashing onto the freshly cut grass at the sound of his voice.

You hoped—you prayed that you could get through the night without running into him. You were here to celebrate your good friend and her new husband, not re-open old scars. Yet here he is, right in front of you, dressed to the nines in all black, tailored perfectly to fit his broad shoulders and slim waist, chestnut locks styled haphazardly and intentionally all at once, new, foreign stubble on his upper lip and jaw making him that much more ruggedly handsome, chest hair peeking through the opened buttons of his shirt, and a white rose clipped to the lapel of his jacket.

He looks good. He looks really good, and you would like to die.

You would very much like to bury yourself in a hole.

He seems so familiar, traces of an old lover lost in the gold flecks of his eyes, but you don't know him, at least not anymore. He's a stranger now, an array of old photographs and journal clippings scattered throughout your memory. He went from being your person, to a person--from being the one person you could talk to for hours upon hours tangled in the sheets, the moonlight from the open curtains dancing upon miles and miles of bare skin, without ever growing tired, to the one person that sucks every word out of you, leaving you speechless, an awkward shell of the confident woman you used to be around him.

You would have followed him anywhere, blind, heart thumping beneath your chest, relying solely on his palm in yours to guide you through the dark—to the ends of the earth, tiptoes over the edge, ready and willing to plummet thousands of feet downward.

The breeze that floats through the air and brushes against your arm adds more goosebumps to the ones already present due to the man next to you. Everything around you is calm—the ocean to your right, waves slowly reeling in and releasing back against the shoreline, the sun setting in the horizon, creating warm hues of tangerine and pomegranate in the sky and sparkling on the endless canvas of blue below, the palm trees rustling gently, the soft chatter of guests behind you in the distance. Outside, there's a whirlwind of serenity, but inside, there's a hurricane crashing against your rib cage.

"Oh, I, um, had a phone call," you confess. You barely got the day off to come to the wedding, and your phone has been buzzing nonstop with work emails, texts, and voicemails.

Yes, you had to take a phone call, but you also needed a minute. A minute for yourself. A minute to reflect, on both past and future.

A minute to inhale--his palm in yours, your cheek pressed against his chest, his temple resting on top of your head, swaying slowly in the kitchen, Frank Sinatra's 'One For My Baby' echoing softly, pulling you closer to him if possible, hushed whispers of "I love you" from two hearts beating in unison.

A minute to exhale--love letters, broken promises, his (your) favorite t-shirt, borrowed books, his handwriting still in the margins, tokens of his thoughts, postcards, one for each new city he inhabited while he way away from you for months on end, pearls, a Frank Sinatra vinyl, your ring stretched and bent from his pinky, anything and everything that was part of him, tucked away in a cardboard box in your attic, collecting dust.

Weddings are supposed to be joyous; they're supposed to remind you of just how amazing life can be, particularly when it's spent with someone you love, but you can't help but feel lonelier than ever.

This is what you wanted.

This is what you wanted with him.

"Still always working," sparkles dance in those eyes of his, morphing every coherent thought in your head to mush. It's criminal how relaxed he is. It's almost as if you're old friends catching up, as if all of the history between the two of you simply no longer exists. He's smirking at you, making your insides turn to jelly and your brain slosh around in your skull. He seems entirely unfazed as he strolls closer to you, the whiskey in his glass barely moving from how slow he progresses. He's honey, the golden sugar dripping lazily from a swarming hive.

You look good. You look really good. And he notices.

His eyes trail from the very tip top of your head, to your cherry red toenails, and you immediately shrink in on yourself. He studies your appearance, long locks of hair he used to comb his fingers through flowing in the slight breeze and cascading down your back, thin straps holding up the loose, silky fabric of your sundress, heart-shaped lips glistening, coated in your favorite lip gloss (He thinks the longer he stares, the more he can taste them again—the more he can feel the sticky substance transferred on his own lips, remnants of your sparkles imprinted on him), freckled cheeks paired with a rosy nose, results from a sunburn (You're tanner than he last saw you. Has your skin always been this golden?), a new tattoo on your inner right forearm, a compass, so minute that one would have to be staring to notice (Which he was, and he did).

Then he sees it.

That all-too-familiar gold band wrapped around your right middle finger, catching the light reflecting from the white wine in your glass.

The ring he gave you.

The one he saw in Japan and had to buy because it had you written all over it. The one he left on his pillow in your shared bed, waiting for you once you had successfully stretched and rubbed the sleep from your eyes while he was off to an early studio session. The one he had engraved, "H.S." on the inside of, a little piece of him always with you. The last token of him you couldn't bring yourself to rid of, a time capsule from a past love.

As soon as you realize he's spotted it, your grip on the glass in your hand tightens. Harry's eyes immediately snap back to yours—after all this time, you still wore the ring. Why were you still wearing the ring?

In a desperate attempt to distract Harry from asking that question you knew was swimming around in his mind, you clear your throat, "Still always working," you force a tight-lipped smile and rock on your heels, "that and you know I'm no good at dancing." You nod your head to the crowded dance floor alive with couples drunk off the mini bar behind the two of you.

Harry's hard expression softens, accompanied by a dimple as memories of your horrible dancing come flooding back. He releases a warm chuckle, one you haven't heard in ages that echoes in your eardrums longer than you would have liked, "Can't argue with that, 'member you almost broke m'big toe a couple times." His eyes never leave yours as he takes a sip from his glass, the amber liquid gliding down his throat with a faint burn.

The space between the two of you progressively decreases as he moves closer and closer, until suddenly his shoulder is only a couple inches away, daring to brush against yours. You're both facing the ocean now, backs towards the roaring crowd. You close your eyes, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore easing the anxiety coasting through your veins. You inhale slowly, enjoying the feeling of the wind brushing against your cheekbones, cooling off the nervous heat Harry has caused. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Harry turns his head and watches you with your eyes fluttered closed, admiring your side profile up close with no shame, because how could he not? He hasn't seen you in person for over a year—it's like he's seeing you for the first time again. He fights the urge to tuck a stay piece of hair behind your hair, something he would have done without thinking if things hadn't gone completely downhill. He wants to memorize how you look in this moment, the exact position of every eyelash, the exact angle of the slope of your nose, just in case he has to go another 12 months without seeing you again. But boy, he wants to see you again. And again.

You keep your eyes closed, your lips turning upwards in a faint smirk, "I saw you at Target the other day," you open your eyes and turn to look at Harry, only to find him already fully fixated on you. Has he been staring at you this whole time? "Rolling stone? That's big."

He grins at your flustered look of shock; he was caught, but he's not embarrassed at all, not trying in the slightest to hide how much you have captivated his attention, "Uh yeah," Jesus, your eyes are beautiful. Your eyes didn't look this beautiful when you were together. Did you do something to your eyes? No, that's impossible. Is that a new piercing in your ear? You hate needles. Did you pierce it yourself? What else has changed about you? Harry, focus. What did you say again? Oh, yeah, Rolling Stone. "Doesn't do well for my narcissism though."

"Hmm... I can imagine," you take a sip of wine, returning your eyes back to the horizon, this time focusing on a pack of seagulls gliding through orange creamsicle skies. You can't stare into his eyes for too long without thinking of everything, the good, the bad, the ugly. Each time you look into his eyes, it's like reliving every conversation you ever had. His words, a gallon of feathers poured on top of you, soft tufts brushing against your skin. His words, a gallon of daggers poured on top of you, sharp metal piercing your skin.

Silence overwhelms the two of you—filling the void of words needed and wanted to be said.

Harry clears his throat and finally looks in front of him to the breathtaking sunset melting into the skyline, almost as breathtaking as you. Taking a big gulp of his whiskey, he prepares himself for the words about to spill from his mouth. He has to ask, because you're here, in person, live in stereo, and when will he have an opportunity like this again? This question has been swimming in his brain for months; it's been eating him alive, the unknown mystery of the situation. He's dying to know if you've heard that one song.

"Have yeh listened to the album?"

He chose the absolute worst time to ask this question, right when you were taking a sip from your glass. You nearly choke on the liquid sliding down your throat, erupting into a coughing fit as soon as you get a breath of air. Harry's eyes widen, immediately angling his body towards yours, a look of alarm flashing across his features. You hunch over, sending cough after cough into your free hand. A warm palm rests on your back between your shoulder blades, causing goosebumps to rise, and as soon as he's about to ask if you're okay, you wave your hand, brushing off your near-death experience. You cough one last time, your raspy voice hesitantly admitting, "Um yes, I have."

Harry furrows his eyebrows, analyzing your face to make sure you're actually okay and before he can stop it from happening, he's rubbing small circles into your back. He hovers his body slightly over yours as you cough one last time into your elbow. You mouth "I'm good" inaudibly and send him a thumbs up. You finally straighten back up, brushing your hair out of your face and blinking slowly a couple times, God, that was embarrassing, way to keep it cool.

When your posture returns to its natural state, and his palm on your back is no longer appropriate, Harry removes his hand and pushes it into his pocket. He silently curses himself for not grabbing intertwining your fingers together and squeezing your palm once—that was something he would always do when you were together. It was his thing. When you would be out shopping and the paps would show up inconveniently out of nowhere, he would grab your hand and squeeze it once, letting you know that he's here and he's sorry, before dropping it. When you would be eating dinner at your parents, laughing about who knows what, his knee brushing yours underneath the table, he would grab your hand and squeeze it once, letting you know that he's here and he loves you, before dropping it.

Silence returns again and you're both back to your original positions overlooking the sea. Bass thumping, "cheers!", clinking, birds chirping, leaves rustling, waves crashing, heavy breathing, congratulations, "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!", his rings tapping against his glass, the soles of your shoes crunching the grass, heart pounding.

The loudest silence breaks, "Figured one day you'd at least g'me a call back."

If you weren't sure if that last track was really about you, you were completely certain now. Maybe one day you'll call me and tell me you're sorry too. For the first time since he's been in your presence this evening, you regain a sense of confidence, your nervous jitters diminishing with your next statement.

"I didn't have anything to apologize for."

And you didn't. Not when he was the one that left, when he was the one that decided he didn't want to love you anymore, when he was the one that chose his life over the both of yours. It hurt. It still does. So why would you call him and tell him that you're sorry too? Sorry for what? Loving him too much? Because you loved him too much. He was the love of your life, the man you wanted to marry, the man you wanted to be the father of your children, the man that completely and utterly captured your heart and sewed it together with his own. But he left. And you had to figure out how to live without him, how to do the dishes when he wasn't drying, how to dance when it wasn't his records playing in the background, how to kiss when it wasn't his lips that were folded over yours, how to love again when it wasn't him that you were loving. You had to do it all. Alone. Pick up the pieces he scattered, put them back together, and super glue them.

Then he put out his debut album. And suddenly he was everywhere, from magazines, to billboards, to tv shows, to recommended YouTube videos, to Instagram, to twitter, to even Facebook, there he was again, closer to you than he had been in months, yet still light years away. And all of those pieces you super glued? Yeah, they became completely undone again, and it didn't help that you decided to actually listen to his album. It was one thing to see him everywhere, but to hear him again, hear that voice that once felt like home, it ruined you.

That song ruined you.

You remember the day that song was inspired from, every single detail.

You had a particularly busy day at work, and you decided to have a spa night. A bubble bath, a bottle of rosé, a face mask, a couple bath bombs, and a pizza was exactly what the doctor prescribed. You had just stepped out of your steamy wonderland, your body covered in your favorite, fluffy robe, soapy suds still clinging to damp skin, completely content in your cotton bubble and slightly buzzed from the glasses of wine you consumed. It was nearly 3 in the morning, and you just sat down at your vanity to apply your various lotions and serums when the phone rang.

Who on earth is calling you this late at night?

You shuffled your slippered-feet to your bedside table, glancing over to see something you never thought you'd see again.

His name.

Harry Styles

Flashing on your screen.

Nearly giving you a heart attack.

You froze in your tracks, eyes widening, mouth hanging open, breathing halting, heart beat slowing and thumping louder than ever in your ears. It felt like the entire world was put on pause, every car on the busy street outside your apartment stopped, traffic lights stuck on red, clouds frozen in place in the sky, every form of life on hold. You miss the call, not that you could have answered anyways; you were completely and utterly paralyzed.

Another notification: Harry Styles Voicemail.

Then you're breathing again, quick, sharp puffs of air in and out. Are you dreaming? You squint your eyes shut tightly and pinch your wrist. This has to be a dream. You open your eyes, the same notification illuminating your screen. You're not dreaming.

God presses play on the world, your surroundings slowly returning back to their normal pace around you, your bubble bursting as you frantically pull your phone from its charger, typing in in your passcode at the speed of light and going straight to the neon green cube on your dock. A shaky thumb taps on the voicemail, hitting the speaker button. There are a couple seconds of static, and for a moment you think maybe it was an accident, a butt-dial, a complete misunderstanding. Please let this be an accident.

Key word: moment.

Because as soon as you think you can forget about this, go back to your nightly routine, and have a peaceful sleep, his voice is booming through the speakers, and you're paralyzed again.

"Um... Hi, it's Harry," the ghost of the man you used to know lets out a nervous laugh, "But you knew that didn't yeh? Probably why you didn't answer..." there's silence, two seconds, five seconds, eight. "I'm in Japan. It's noon here, and m'drunk, alone in my hotel room," his voice is deep, raspy, tired. "'Member that ring I gave you? I'm stayin' a couple blocks away from that shop. Y'loved that ring. Think tha' was the last good thing I did."

Your eyes shift to your right hand, the one that's not death-gripping your phone, the one that holds the piece of metal he's referring to. A lump grows in the back of your throat, and suddenly it's becoming harder to stand. You collapse on the edge of your bed and gulp. Tears pool uncontrollably in your eyes, falling onto the robe that now feels like pinecones suffocating you.

"I saw Mark befo' I left. Ran into him at the grocery store," Mark, your co-worker, your friend. Mark didn't tell you he saw Harry. Why didn't he tell you he saw Harry? Why is Harry talking about Mark? Why did Harry call you? Why did Harry leave you a voicemail? "I asked him how you were, and he said you were fine. Are you fine?" No. "Cause I'm not. M'not fine at all."

You shut your eyes in pain, wincing at his words. Waterfalls flood from your eyes, and you hate it. You hate that this is affecting you so much. You hate that he still has a hold on you. You wished you could not care; you wished you could simply say "fuck you forever" and forget him. It's been 6 months since the breakup, and you want more than anything to move on and forget him.

"Love I-" You bite your tongue at the pet name, almost drawing blood. When was the last time he called you that? 'Love'—the equivalent of a knife plunging into your chest again and again. "I fucked up... and I miss you." And again. "God, I miss you so much." And again. "And m'sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." And again. "Th'worst thing I ever did was what I did to you."

You're fully sobbing at this point, your phone thrown across the other end of your bed, his voice slightly muffled by your duvet. Your hands are tangled in your hair, elbows resting on your knee caps, shoulders shaking as you hiccup, wave after wave of his words hitting you. Little do you know, Harry is on the other end of the world doing the exact same thing—hands pulling his hair, hunched over on the edge of his grand suite's expensive mattress, an almost empty bottle of whiskey to his right, tears staining the carpet beneath him.

"And I know this is late. M'a fuckin' idiot for not saying it until now. I just..." He breathes out a sigh, and you pinch your eyes shut even tighter. No, he's drunk. He doesn't mean it. He's drunk. He doesn't mean it. Don't fall for it; you've been doing fine. You're fine... right? "I needed yeh to hear that. Need you to know I'm so sorry for hurting you. I did th'one thing I swore I'd never do."

Relaxing your grip on the roots of your hair, you sit up at his words, the words you have waited to hear him say for six months. Why don't they sweep you off your feet like you imagined? Why don't you feel different? You had thought about this moment over and over, the moment he would finally own up to his mistakes, finally apologize for all the shit he put you through. You imagined him showing up to your doorstep with a dozen sunflowers, your favorite, a speech prepared on how much he still loves you and how much he is sorry for everything. After, you would launch into his open arms, sinking back into his quicksand, enveloped in his love all over again. Everything would fall back into place; you would be whole again. What you didn't expect was a drunken voicemail, making you want to crumble inside yourself until all that is left is a pile of bones, useless. It felt as if there was a surprise epilogue to your joint ending—you were experiencing the break up all over again. What was supposed to give you life, hope was slowly taking it away each second the voicemail continued.

"I'm dying, love." Me too. "Can I still call you that?" No. "M'dying without you. Just... Please call me. Please let me show you how sorry I am. Need to hear y'voice. I'm so sorry. Call me."

His voicemail remains in your phone. You never called him back. You've lost count of the times your finger hovered over his contact name, nearly jumping into the deep end, just for you to take one step backwards on the diving board. One particular night, after taking another step back, you decided to write down everything you wanted to say, everything you wished you knock on his door and scream at him until you lost your voice—all of the heartache, the sorrow, the stress, the hope, the anxiety, every single emotion you felt since it ended. You wrote twenty-two pages. They're now hidden in your bedside table, addressed and stamped, never sent. Harry didn't call you again; that was the last time you heard from him, over a year ago now.

Silence welcomes itself again. Comfortable silence is so overrated.

Shoulder brushing against yours, Harry stands still, digesting your last words. I didn't have anything to apologize for. There was a time when he would have completely disagreed with that statement, clearly, given the lyrics to his last track on his debut album. Then, he would have argued that both of you had dipped your toe in your downfall, each equally responsible for how things crumbled apart. Now, however, he sees how it was him that was in the wrong. He was the one afraid of the commitment you wanted from him—part of him could never fully love you like he wanted to. A couple hundred therapy sessions later, he's sorted his shit out, and he sees just how much shit he put you through, as if someone had sat him down in a theatre, showing him your love story from your perspective. You don't owe him an apology; you were perfect, always giving him your all, every single drop, every single ounce of your love from an endless fountain. He was the one that left. Hewas the one that broke you into small, jagged pieces.

But he's selfish. He still misses you so much. He misses your hand encased in his, your laugh at his terrible jokes, your lips on his cheek, your faint snores that only erupt on Friday nights after a hard week at work, your face buried in his neck, chest on top of his and legs entangled in his on the couch, your finger poking his dimple, your face scrunched in concentration as you painted his nails, your records playing in his house (the ones you said he had to borrow, but if he scratched them, he was a dead man), your hugs (the way you would make him feel itty bitty in your embrace, enveloping him into your open arms after he was away for too long), your mind, always alive and itching for those deep conversations that always arise at midnight in his bed.

That's why he came to the wedding in the first place. He was originally booked to shoot a music video, but he quickly cancelled at the possibility of seeing you here. And that's why when he finally spotted you, off in the distance, speaking into your phone away from the buzzing reception, he knew he had to talk to you. He didn't care if it re-opened closed wounds; he was selfish and he had to talk to you. He missed you.

"Listen-"

"I-" Harry speaks up at the same time you do, beginnings of sentences clashing together. Your eyes meet again, shoulders turned towards each other now. He grins, bunny teeth making an appearance at the mishap regardless of the obvious tension that has invaded the air between the two of you. You envy that trait, his ability to make any situation comfortable and relaxed despite its origin. "You first."

"No, um you go," you mumble out awkwardly, finishing off the remnants of wine in your glass in a rather large gulp to ease the nerves. You know Harry, sometimes better than he knows himself, and you know that he would have never approached you if he didn't have some motive on his own. You had to shut this down—there was no way you could go down this road with him again, not when just this conversation was enough to ruffle your feathers, making you feel like a traitor in your own body, someone you don't even know.

"How 'bout we both go?" There's a cheeky look in his eye, and if you look hard enough you could see a tinge of excitement, hopefulness, "On th'count of three?"

Not daring to quirk upwards, your lips remain straight, and you nod.

"One," You can do it. Just tell him you want to basically forget he exists. "Two," You can do it. Just tell her you still love her. "Three."

Two similar heartbeats.

"I still love you-" Sweet sugar crystals, an honest confession from candy land.

"I think it's best if we don't see each other again." An exploding cannon, sinking his battle ship.

Two entirely different headspaces.

The next morning, you wake up with a massive headache, one that was undoubtedly brewing as you cried yourself to sleep the night prior (it might also have to do with the entire bottle of wine you consumed as soon as you slipped off your heels in your apartment).

You notice it's technically no longer morning when you check your phone, squinting in pain at the sudden brightness, the numbers 1:25 yelling back at you. Thank god it's Saturday; you haven't had a hangover of this intensity since college and there is no way you could possibly go to work like this.

Slowly slipping out of the warmth of your numerous weighted blankets, your socked feet hit the plush carpet, and you bend down and open the bottom drawer of your bedside table. Tied up in a pink bow are four envelopes, addressed and stamped, waiting to be delivered to the man whose hopes you crushed. You reached for the stack, running your fingers along the edges, reading over his name, tracing the letters with your fingertips.

With the letters firm in your grasp, you rush to your front door, making sure to slip on your robe; you don't want anyone to drive by you putting these letters in your mailbox in nothing but a t-shirt and undies, after all.

You're finally doing it, diving into the crystal-clear water that was once forever still. You're going to mail all twenty-two pages, every emotion. This is it, the last period to the epilogue, the ending of this book, the closure the both of you so desperately need.

As you reach for the handle, you pause, noticing the one thing you nearly forgot about—that gold band. You slip the piece of metal off your finger, observing his initials engraved on the inside for the last time. Untying the bow holding the envelopes together, you slide the ring onto one end of the cotton-candy colored ribbon and retie the knot, the ring now attached. Inhale, one moment to reflect. Exhale, one moment to say your final goodbye. You swing open the door, and right before you can make another move, something stops you. Looking down at your doorstep, a bittersweet smile breaks out across your face. He was saying goodbye too.

A dozen sunflowers.

413 notes · View notes

ofstarsandfireflies · 3 years

Text

@just-inside-her asked for this one, which was going to be part of January but I moved it off the list to fit others in so we got it this month!

Stephen has been waiting for the day for Tony to return to him ever since the man beat Kingpin and had to go into hiding.

Due to their relationship, what remains of the Avengers have been keeping a close watch on him, waiting for him to lead them to wherever Tony is.

It’s been two years, and neither of them have received word on his whereabouts or whether he’s still alive.

That is, until Stephen’s usual routine is disrupted by a letter with the Stark Industries letter head, and a message in Tony’s handwriting telling him to board a specific train and find someone with his height and build on it to make the Avengers think it’s him so they’ll leave Stephen in peace.

Stephen manages to shake the surveillance team and boards the train, finding a spare seat in front of a man who introduces himself as ‘Robert’ and smoking a fake cigarette.

This man will do.

He has brown hair where Tony had black, brown eyes where Tony had blue, stubble where a neatly trimmed beard should be and, most importantly, an English accent where Tony was American.

They talk for a while, Robert doing most of it as he can’t seem to shut up in front of this handsome stranger.

But they’re not alone.

Both Natasha and Clint have boarded the train and have even taken a photo of Robert, sending it back to HQ to the only one who never gave up on finding Tony.

Vision.

For the past two years he’s been scouring the Internet for any traces of the man who had had a hand in creating his existence.

He’s kept an eye on social media, on banking records, waiting for Tony’s name to pop up somewhere or for the billions of dollars he’d pulled from his bank accounts to appear suddenly.

But it never happened.

He’s especially frantic to find him now because King Pin just broke out of jail, and Vision knows Tony’s at the top of his shit list.

But he’s making it rather difficult to track down.

So when he receives the photo Nat and Clint have sent to him, he can’t help but think that it is Tony.

It’s only when he finds Robert’s passport photo and everything checks out that his hope dies again.

The guy Stephen is talking to is no more than a tourist.

Parting ways when their train comes to a stop, they quickly find one another again when Stephen asks Robert if he’d like a lift, taking him to the expensive Hotel where he and Tony would usually stay.

The room is beautifully decorated, and when Stephen enters the bedroom, he finds the wardrobe filled with expensive clothes, colognes and watches, gifts he knows are from Tony.

Robert has no idea what he’s doing here, but gets dressed into one of the suits he’s packed so they can go out for dinner.

After making a fool of himself when he sees Stephen dressed up, they have a nice dinner where they enjoy themselves, Stephen noticing how he’s still being followed.

It’s only after they get back that Robert points out the huge bouquet of flowers that definitely wasn’t there before they left, and an envelope.

Within the envelope addressed to Stephen is an invite to a ball two nights from now.

This is where he’ll see Tony again.

He’s waited two years, what’s two more days?

But there’s still the case of the Avengers.

They haven’t approached him yet, so he knows he hasn’t fooled them completely into thinking this man is Tony.

So, Stephen does the only thing he can think of that would put more suspicion on this man.

He kisses him while they stand on the balcony, in full view of the people he knows are watching.

And a small part of him thrills when Robert kisses him back.

He could almost picture Tony in his place when he closed his eyes.

Robert’s arms come up to hold him and Stephen stops before this can progress any further, offering the couch for him to sleep on while he makes his way to the single bedroom.

It’s as he’s undressing, he hears the doorknob of his room turning.

He pauses to watch, waiting to see what Robert will do.

It turns a little more, almost fully, but Robert reconsiders and makes his way to the couch.

And Stephen doesn’t know why he’s disappointed.

The next morning, Robert wakes to find room service has brought him breakfast, courtesy of Stephen, who has left him alone.

And since he’s alone in the room where Tony’s lover is staying, Kingpin’s men descend on it, forcing Robert to make his escape through the window of the bathroom and across the rooftop of the next building, catching the eye of everyone in the streets below, including Stephen, who is just as shocked to bear witness to what this man is doing and just who is chasing after him.

Of course he had to go and persuade the wrong people that Robert was Tony.

Unable to use his magic and cause even more commotion amongst the people when he was trying not to draw attention to himself, Stephen whispers a command to his cloak, which quickly slips down an alley, up the side of the building and plants itself on the ground, ripping out from under the men chasing Robert, catching them off guard and making them tumble down to the street.

When Robert looks behind him and sees that Stephen has somehow appeared behind him instead of the men who had been chasing him, he stops running and starts asking questions.

And that’s how Robert learns about Tony.

The man Stephen loves.

The man Stephen is putting his life and Robert’s life in danger for.

The man he hasn’t seen for two years.

And with his questions answered, Stephen sends him through a portal to the train station, a bag of necessities falling out of another portal beside him.

But Robert can’t leave.

Not now he’s in love with Stephen.

While Robert is out purchasing a much nicer suit than the one he brought with him with the money Stephen gave him, Stephen is finally meeting up with Vision, who is not happy about Stephen’s attitude the past three years, one of which he was with Tony before he suddenly disappeared.

Both of them should know that the Avengers could help in protecting them, they were both Avengers themselves, but Stephen just shakes his head.

Keeping their distance from the Avengers has been part of the plan.

No need for anyone to die just to protect a billionaire, as Tony had put it.

So, running out of questions and patience, Vision asks why Stephen has finally agreed to meet up with them.

How it couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the tourist Stephen seems to fancy.

And Stephen tells him about the ball tonight, and how Tony will be there.

Except, he isn’t.

At the ball, another letter addressed to him arrives, from a man who could only be Tony.

But when Stephen loses him in the crowd, Robert appears, putting their little operation in jeopardy

Stephen can’t just send him through another portal with so many people around, opting instead to go after Tony, but Robert stands in his way and offers his hand to dance.

And Stephen takes it.

He tries to tell him that he’s in danger here, that Kingpin’s men are still after him and he has to leave.

Robert refuses.

It’s only when Stephen tells him he was just using him that Robert lets Stephen go, and Stephen opens the letter from Tony, which contains a key and an address.

Stephen goes there immediately, having just let himself inside when the door opens.

And Kingpin walks in.

Stephen barely has time to move before his henchmen are pointing their guns at him, forcing him to sit on the couch as they wait for Tony Stark to finally arrive.

Five minutes pass.

Then ten.

Still no sign of Tony.

Kingpin begins his exposition about how being thrown in jail cost him Vanessa, about how Stark went for her to get to him like a coward instead of coming straight to him like a man.

How he will kill Stephen if Tony does not show his face in the next five minutes.

Vision has been listening in to all of this with Robert, who had tried going after Stephen before Nat and Clint grabbed him.

Robert is concerned about Stephen and about the threat from Kingpin.

But Vision’s not concerned at all, he knows Tony wouldn’t let anyhint happen and will come for him, all they have to do is wait.

But he doesn’t.

Just when Kingpin is about to give the order, Stephen spies a large medallion of the eye of Agamotto set into the wall of the fireplace.

He knows there’s a safe behind it, and upon telling Kingpin, manages to draw his attention away from killing him for the time being.

Only, when the safe is revealed, they realise they need a seven-digit code to open it.

And the only person who could possibly know it, who they have here right now, is Stephen.

Robert is trying to make Vision send his men in, but Vision isn’t listening.

He knows Tony will come.

He knows him, knows how much he loves Stephen, so he has to.

Stephen is brought to the safe, racking his brains to form a code.

Maybe a date?

Or even a word when spelled on a numbered keypad?

At his first attempt at the code, he enters 4766626

IRONMAN

The button turns red.

Kingpin doesn’t see this as Stephen not knowing.

He thinks he’s trying to buy time until Tony get there.

So he gives him one last try.

And Stephen can’t think.

What else could it be?

Avenger?

America?

Industry?

There were too many possibilities and he only had one chance.

283...

It had to Avenger.

They were the reason he hadn’t gone to them for help.

They were the reason they’d met, what they both were.

It has to be...

643...

His finger hovered over the 7.

And just as he was about to press it, he heard someone call out his name.

What.

The hell.

Was Robert doing here?

Guns turned on the tourist he’d roped into all of this, the men working for Kingpin looking to their boss, who walked up to the idiot who was now claiming to be Tony Stark.

Kingpin looked him over, noticing the details of his face which had changed drastically in the last two years.

Robert didn’t seem intimidated by him, standing up taller despite his short stature.

And then Kingpin began laughing.

Was this another ploy to await Stark’s grand return?

Very well.

There really was only one way to find out if this man was Tony.

He’d have to open the safe.

Robert tries to secure Stephen’s safety in exchange for his help, but everyone just turns their guns on the Sorcerer, who gives Robert a sad smile.

So, having little choice, Robert walks towards the safe.

Towards Stephen.

He keeps his eyes on him, wanting Stephen to be the last thing he sees before they’re killed.

And just as he reaches it, just when he sees Stephen mouth the words he’s longed to hear, Nick Fury takes control of Vision’s operation and demands for Kingpin to be taken out.

Stephen breathes a sigh of relief and turns to Robert, and then the safe where he’s completed the code.

7837436

STEPHEN

And the button turns green.

Quotes -

“Do you mind me smoking? It’s not a real cigarette.”

“What?”

“It’s electronic. It delivers the same amount of nicotine, but the smoke is water vapour. Yeah. Watch. LED light.”

“That’s somewhat disappointing.”

“Would you rather have me smoking for real?”

“I would rather you be a man who did exactly as he pleased.”

“...”

Stephen chooses Robert for his plan

“You tell me what my story is.”

“Okay, um, I think you would be diplomatic attaché. Or maybe a girl from East Germany...whose father’s been kidnapped...and they’re blackmailing you into stealing something for them. Probably a microfilm. There’s usually a microfilm involved.”

“What awaits me?”

“Trouble, certainly.”

“Danger?”

“Oh, yeah. You’ll most likely be shot in less than two chapters.”

“Is there a man in my life?”

“Have to wait and see.”

Robert getting a little flustered

“Fuck.”

“...?”

“You’re ravenous.”

“Do you mean ravishing?”

“I do.”

“You’re ravenous.”

“I am.”

Not the best attempt at flirting

“Why is all this happening? Why is everyone trying to kill me?”

“It’s because I kissed you.”

“...Do I look that much like him?”

“I am sorry I got you involved in all this.”

“Why are you involved in all this?”

“Because I’m in love with him.”

“Really? I’m not.”

Robert learns about Tony

“It’s just who he is.”

“Could you ever feel like that about someone like me?”

“...”

“I don’t regret it, you know...kissing you.”

Robert’s fallen in love with Stephen, and Stephen is starting to fall for him too.

January, February

Missed a Day? Catch up here!

Day 1 Day 2

You aren’t what you say you are -

Tony has been in hiding for two years, but while Stephen still waits for him to come back, another man catches his eye.

#ironstrange #strangeiron #osaf’s movie night

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peepspersonalperspective · 4 years

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MY PICKS: Top 10 K-Dramas

Disclaimer: These are totally subjective choices and I've justified them as per my preferences. Consider them friendly recommendations and let me know if you disagree. Also, I've discovered the wonderful world of K-Dramas over the last couple of years and they've really evolved not just in storytelling but also production value so I personally prefer the more recent ones. So for example I haven't put a very popular pick like My Love from the Star simply because I've seen better stuff since (don't shoot me). Anyway, 가자!

MEMORIES OF ALAHAMBRA

This is my first recommendation for anyone who's just starting out watching Korean television content simply because it's so different from what new viewers expect it to be. It's so gripping and thrilling. I would expect nothing less from Song Jae Jung's writing.

So it's a sci-fi show, set in Spain, about an augmented reality game, that seems to have physical implications in the real world, sending the lead, Hyun Bin on a rollercoaster ride to find answers. Exo's Chanyeol has a recurring role as the game developer, so that's exciting too. I learnt that he was cast because of his love for PubG. Lol.

Every episode will leave you wanting more, and you'll find yourself as desperate to search for answers as Yoo Jin Woo (Hyun Bin).

Granted, mid season, it gets a little complicated, especially with newer nuances of the game unfolding, but fret not because the characters are discovering the secrets of the game with you. So they're as confused as you would be, and that's why this show is so good! More so because the graphics are excellent! You can tell they really spent money on ensuring high quality work. You will really feel like you're part of the game with Yoo Jin Woo.

Anyway, if you are an EXO-L, or you like gaming, sci-fi, thriller and Hyun Bin, this show is great!

2. W - Two Worlds

Another piece of awesome from Song Jae Jung. I would still rank this show a little below Alahambra, because I think the makers made improvements from this sci-fi drama in Alahambra, in the sense of storytelling. Still, W is just as intriguing.

Oh Yeon Joo (Han Hyo Joo) gets sucked into a comic book where she falls in love with the lead character of the comic book, Kang Chul (Lee Jeong Suk). Sounds like a typical romance drama right? Don't be fooled because there are many many twists and turns along the way.

I feel like there is metaphor in there somewhere about existentialism, the creation and destiny. But maybe that's just me reading into things.

Lee Jeong Suk is extremely desirable as Kang Chul, unsuspectingly charming and endearing, and Oh Yeon Joo is an absolutely relatable character, and how she deals as an ordinary girl thrown into extraordinary circumstances is genuine.

I would say this drama is wholesome, with sci-fi, suspense, thriller, action, romance, filial relationships, and more. And while it's usually difficult to jam pack all this into one show without screwing it up, W emerges exceptional.

3. Extraordinary You

This show is so cute! If you want just a light hearted, quirky show, this is the one for you.

It's about characters in a cartoon becoming aware of their existence in a cartoon. But don't worry this is NOTHING like W.

The best part about the show is that it's not about the main characters of the said cartoon. It's the story about the extras finding their way in that world, hence the pun intended in the title. The main characters (of the cartoon) are actually the most dull, because they are bound by the laws of stereotypical high school romance. But the real stuff is happening on the sidelines, with Kim Hye Yoon as Dan Oh and Rowoon as Haru.

Dan Oh is a hilarious character and Kim Hye Yoon does a fantastic job of switching emotions when she's in and out of a scene in the cartoon. One minute she goes into character mode, next minute she's bitching at the sorry fate of her character when she wakes up, to the astonishment of the characters surrounding her (who aren't aware of their reality yet).

Rowoon has a quiet charm about him that perfectly complements Hye Yoon. Check it out for a chuckle and a taste of something different.

4. Crash Landing on You

This show is hard not to like. Apart from the poorly picturized tornado carrying our leading lady over the border to North Korea, this show is a wonderful Netflix and Chill kind of show, I think.

The cultural disparity between the South and North is interesting to watch and also entertaining. Like when they mention buying mobile games at an App store (a literal application store in a Pyongyang market).

Ri Jung Hyuk (Hyun Bin again) and Yoon Seri (Son Yejin) are such a delight in comedic, romantic, and dramatic scenes. But the scene stealer for me was Yang Kyun Won as Pyo Chi Soo, and his unshakeable nationalism that he is ready to set aside for some shampoo and conditioner.

The interesting thing is going into the show, you have an idea of the longevity, so ofcourse, Seri's journey back to the South ain't going to be easy, also her relationship with Ri Jung Hyuk is doomed, and yet you find yourself rooting for them at each step, crying with them during their failures and crying with them even in their triumph. But the most tears were shed for the least expected character, who simply left us all heart broken.

5. Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo

In a world where women are expected to behave and look a certain way to be considered attractive by someone they're vying for, here's a food hogging, tomboy, weightlifting champ, with her first crush.

The premise may rope you into the show, but midway you realise that the heart of the show is in its characters, and without realising you become so invested in them that you feel their fears, insecurities, and cherish their victories with them.

This coming of age show really relishes on the quirks of each character, friendship, love and aspirations. It's not a very dramatic story which is probably why it didn't rate very high during its broadcast, but that's part of its charm, and that's why it's been able to gather a significant cult following since.

Lee Sung Kyung and Nam Joo Hyuk portray the most sincere friends and eventual couple. Their relationship blossoms in the most organic manner and it's so heartwarming. They're not cheesy or unrealistic; they even beat each other up! I don't think I've seen that level of comfort portrayed on screen so well before.

Watch out for guest appearances by Ji Soo and Lee Jeong Suk.

6. Strong Girl Do Bong Soon

I'll be honest, this recommendation is mainly for Park Hyung Sik. He's amazing in the show. And there could be no better supernaturally strong petite girl than Park Bo Young, either.

So there are actually a lot of things happening in the show, story wise, but I promise it all comes together in the end. There is quite a build up and I'm happy that it pays off adequately.

This is like a superhero show with all the spices and flavours of a Marvel movie, but K-Drama style. There's an invincible villain, some idiot gangsters for comedic value, romance (a love triangle infact), functional training, a point of lost hope for Bong Soon, and then her resurrection as a superhero.

It's all there, and more.

But Park Hyung Sik.....

7. Itaewon Class

This recommendation is simply for the refreshing change of representation on TV. I know a lot has already been spoken about it already, but I have to admit that that's what sets this revenge drama apart. That, and the music. Dayum, Start by Gaho is so catchy! And let's not forget V's Sweet Night.

This show starts off slow but give it 3 episodes before it gets to the real shit.

Park Saeroyi is almost too good to be true, and in that lies his shortcoming. His character is so strong that while watching him I forgot that Park Seo Joon was acting. And despite some unnerving moments I found myself rooting for him. He has some strong motivational lines too, like about his choice for a better life. His determination is almost unreal, as he goes on to take down his mortal enemy.

Some of the best scenes, though, are of Jo Yi Seo (Kim Dami), a sociopathic enterprising genius. She was the one who actually kept me hooked to the series. She added some much needed flair to the show, and as it appears to Park Saeroyi's establishment.

Actually, every character was strong, every character had a strong backstory and motivation for the action, and most importantly they never broke character.

Watch out for Park Bo Gum's special appearance.

8. Love In The Moonlight

Speaking of Park Bo Gum...

This show is all kinds of weird in the best way! A girl pretends to be a palace eunuch and falls in love with the crown Prince. That is so messed up!

But that's the fun part! And Park Bo Gum and Kim You Jung make it a wonderful ride. Full of quirky romance, political conflicts and hidden identity issues, this show is addictive af!

And even though this wasn't in the show and was just a promo, be sure to watch Park Bo Gum's Bombastic dance. It's adorable!

9. The Third Charm

I'm sure this is my least popular recommendation. But something about watching this show was so cathartic. I highly recommend it for those who may have gone through heartbreak ever in their lives.

This is probably one of those rare times when I was lost in the story instead of Seo Kang Jun's eyes. Hehe. This story is about an on again off again couple and their journey through life together and apart.

This was meant to be a healing drama, and it really does take you through the emotional evolution that comes with growing up. I think it's the perfect medicine for a healing heart.

10. It's Okay Not To Be Okay

This show! This is my current obsession. Kim Soo Hyun's comeback couldn't have been more perfect. Seo Yeji couldn't have been a more perfect casting. And the two leads couldn't have had a better chemistry.

This show is all kinds of whimsical and I love it. Also a healing drama, this show deals with.... Baggage....to put it simply. Some baggage may be bigger than other baggage, some even irrevocable. But seeing all the characters overcome this baggage is so fulfilling.

But the charm of this show is in Ko Moon Young's (Seo Yeji) craziness and the Tim Burton-esque setup, that really makes one perceive fairytales in a whole new way. I mean I always knew that fairytales were sanitized German folklore, but I never thought to find a very different messaging from the material. The parables are ingenious, and it really is a pleasure to watch each and every person on this show.

Special mentions: Goblin, Reply 1988, 30 but 17/ Still 17, My ID is Gangnam Beauty, Hotel Del Luna

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purplesurveys · 2 years

Text

1339

The Home Life

Do you like to sleep in? I have moods wherein I’ll prefer doing so, and literally those phases come every once every like, three or four years hahaha. Otherwise I roll over and use my phone as soon as I open my eyes.

Is your bathroom fairly clean or quite untidy? They’re both clean.

Do you stack dishes in the sink or try to wash as you go? I have them soaked at the sink for a few hours to remove the greasiness and to make it easier to remove hardened rice, but I don’t like reaching the point that I’ll have to deal with a whole stack of dishes.

How often do you vacuum and dust? Every other week or so.

How often do you change the sheets on your bed? Monthly.

If you have kids, do you pack lunches or send lunch money? So I don’t have kids, but when I went to school I had packed lunches from preschool up to Grade 7. Once I started high school, my mom provided me with money to buy food for recess and lunch. I was also given an allowance during college.

Do you have at least one ‘family meal’ at the table together? Yes. We eat at the table every night when my dad is home. When it’s just us (me and my siblings) and my mom, we eat together every weekend and on weekdays where she has the day off.

Do you live with family, roommates, alone or with a significant other? I live with my parents and siblings.

Do you have pets and, if so, what kind? Yup, we have Kimi, an aspin; and Cooper, a beagle.

The Job

Where do you work? I work at a public relations agency.

What do you do there? I handle PR campaigns for a number of brands. I work at our consumer desk, which means I help promote and build PR strategies and plans for upcoming products, launches, what have you. This is in contrast to our corporate desk, which is more responsible for taking care of the crisis comms, CSR, thought leadership side of things. Apart from that I also do basic tasks like news monitoring and competitor scans, among a dozen other types of reports.

Do you more enjoy or dread going there? I mean it really goes both ways. I genuinely love and enjoy the nature of the work, but it’s also incredibly fast-paced so the danger of burnout, and even developing anxiety, is always lurking. And since it’s an agency, most, if not all, my work depends on clients, some of which can definitely be difficult to please or to deal with.

Do you think you’ll keep this job for a long time? Yeah. I mean I just got promoted and am bound for a bigger promotion in six months, so I appreciate that they already have a plan for me; luckily, I also haven’t been feeling serious burnout yet. The motivation to keep working is there.

Do you get along well with your co-workers? Yes, they’re all great. There are just a couple of people I can weed out as I personally don’t like their ways of working, but for the most part I get along with everyone and I’ve since established myself as part of the team.

Do you ever hang out with them outside of work? Yeah, I’ve already gone on an out-of-town trip with the main team I work with.

How would you describe your boss? I have three people above me in varying levels, and they’re all great. I was (and still am) a stickler for hierarchy, so for the longest time I had refused to treat them and speak with them like everyday friends, until they themselves essentially told me to loosen the fuckkkkkkkk up and to see them as friends, too hahaha. After that we’ve all become a lot closer; but personally I don’t think that instinct of mine will ever go away. I think it’s important so that I can get to maintain professional relationships with them.

Have you ever been “written up” for something? No.

What’re the best things about your job? I think the main thing is being able to love what I do; like it doesn’t feel like I’m forced to be here, or that this is just a stop to get to where I really want to be. I already do want to be here, and it’s nice to already see some progress in my career. I’m also fortunate to be handling brands that I actually consume and like.

The Family

Are you close to your immediate family? We’re not the closest, but the relationship is for sure so much better than it was a few years back. My mom doesn’t yell at me as much, for example; and my sister and I have also started to become more open around each other.

Do you know all of your cousins, aunts, uncles, etc.? It’s impossible to know your entire family when you’re Filipino, to be completely honest. I know relatives up to the third degree, but that’s just barely the tip of the iceberg. To this day I have to ask my parents who this and that person is when I see a name on Facebook that shares our surname, only for them to tell me it’s their cousin, my aunt, their uncle, etc. A few years ago my dad’s side of the family had a grand reunion and I shit you not I didn’t know like 85% of the people there.

Are you adopted? No.

If so, have you thought to or tried to find your biological parents?

Do you have children and, if so, how many and how old? I don’t have kids.

Do you think you have a “black sheep” in your family and who? In our immediate family I most definitely used to be the black sheep, but I’ve since grown out of that. At present, the black sheep would be one of my uncles – my mom’s brother. Not a good father to my cousins, doesn’t last in any job, hitches rides with my mom even though we can always clearly see his fucking car parked, spends his money on cigarettes and booze, and I’m pretty sure he has some Nazi sentiments. My grandma has chided me on more than one occasion to give him respect, but I’m just incapable of doing so.

Do any diseases run in your family? Fortunately, no.

Are you related to anyone famous in any way and, if so, who and how? I wouldn’t say famous but my family runs the local government in our hometown province. It’s not something I ever talk about or raise though, both because 1) I don’t want to sound like an asshole, and 2) they lean on the Duterte-Marcos side, which is just yucky.

Which family member are you closest to? Either my sister or my eldest cousin on my mom’s side, who is more like an older brother to me than anything.

The Entertainment

What’s the best movie you’ve seen in the past year? I have seen a grand total of 1 movie this year, but I didn’t like it enough to also call it the best movie I’ve seen in 2021.

What sort of TV shows do you like? As much as possible, I like feel-good content that doesn’t make me think as much and just makes me laugh lol, so I enjoy sitcoms like Friends, The Big Bang Theory, Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Every now and then I’ll get into something a bit heavier and more complex, so long as I find the plot compelling – that said, I’ve also enjoyed shows like BoJack Horseman, The Crown, and The Walking Dead. And of course, K-drama – I’m not a big watcher, though, because I find each episode so agonizingly long. I’ve probably only seen like four or five K-dramas in the last 5 years lol.

Who’re some of your favorite bands? Paramore, Against Me!, and Coldplay.

Do you play Wii Guitar Hero, etc.? We did have Guitar Hero on the Wii complete with the guitar controller, but my finger coodination has always been terrible so I was never big on playing it. I enjoyed playing other games more, like Mario Kart Wii and WarioWare.

How much of a computer geek are you? Like zero percent.

Do you or have you ever written fan fiction? I’ve attempted but they were all fucking horrible. I’ve always been on the reader side hahaha.

Do you like to play or watch any sports? Sports like tennis and volleyball I’d occasionally watch if I catch a game on TV but I’ve never closely followed any tournaments or rivalries. What I used to watch the most was definitely pro wrestling, but my interest has dwindled down in the last few years.

The Random

Do you think weed should be legal and why or why not? As I’ve always said on surveys, marijuana has always been a taboo topic here and as a direct result, I’ve never gotten the chance to read much about it or be aware about its effects whether positive or negative. I’ve heard it’s beneficial for medicinal purposes though, so for that reason alone I think it has reason to be legalized.

If someone offered you ten thousand dollars to live in a tent for a year, would you? No, just because I think I’d be struggling with some key necessities lol, like cooking my own food.

It’s a throw down with you and Bobby Flay. – What do you make to win? That’s an easy forfeiture for sure hahah.

Are you sick of the Geico commercials? I’m only vaguely familiar with them from my days of illegally streaming US channels to be able to watch Raw and Smackdown, so I can’t say I ever felt sick of them.

#survey #surveys

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years

Text

The Long Way Around ~ Chapter 7

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/623403705475219456/the-long-way-around-chapter-6

Pairing: Jasper x Reader

Word count: 2208

Warnings: None

Y/n’s POV

It’s been around six months since I joined this new life. I can feel my newborn strength fading by the day, though my bloodlust does not show me the same mercy. I’ve yet to have a true encounter with a human, and I hope to avoid one for a very long time. I have no doubt in my mind that I would lose control. Jasper says it’s normal, that I’m doing well, and that I shouldn’t worry about the future and instead focus on improving today. Some days I believe him, some days I don’t. I guess it all comes with the territory of being thrust into a life you never thought could exist.

My case hasn’t had any leads since they arrested my assailant, though, since there’s no body to find, I don’t suppose I can assign any blame. I’m old news now, except for the occasional plea from my parents or a friend for anyone who knows something to come forward. Those break me every time. It pains me more than I ever thought possible to see the people I love hurting and know their hurting is in vain, but not be able to do anything to ease it because I will literally kill them. Carlisle and Esme have taken a few trips on my behalf, for which I am endlessly grateful. A run-in at the grocery store here or a quick drive by their house at night. It’s not much, and it hurts deeply to not be able to take the errands myself, but I think it would be worse not to know how they’re doing.

My self-control has gotten slightly better. I’m down to hunting only about once a week now. I fill my newfound free time with odds and ends. I read books, decorate my room, let Alice do my hair, work on learning Spanish, and play board games with the other vampires in the house. It’s nice to start seeing them more as friends rather than roommates. It certainly makes shoving myself into their daily life much more bearable.

Jasper still doesn’t let up with his constant babysitting of me, but I don’t mind it like I used to. In all honesty, we’ve become pretty great friends. He definitely knows me better than anyone else in the house, and I would seek out his company even if it wasn’t a necessity. Right now we’re reading through all the Harry Potter’s together just to pass the time. Esme was very encouraging of our project, even buying two copies of each book for us and one copy of each book in Spanish, to help with my studies. She’s so thoughtful. Jasper didn’t like the books at first, but at my and Bella’s behest, stuck with them. I think he had trouble getting into them because he didn’t grow up reading them. But now we’re on book five, and if we go more than two days without reading a chapter, he bugs me about it. It’s kinda cute. As both of us tend toward the introvert side of the spectrum, we spend much of our days in one of our rooms. Seldom are we apart, so it surprises me when he sends Emmett, Arthur, and Rosalie with me to hunt and doesn’t include himself. Hurt that I really hope he doesn’t notice pricks at me. He probably just needs a break, relax. You guys do spend a lot of time together…maybe you’re getting on his nerves. But I don’t protest outwardly, not wanting to seem annoying. Besides, I like everyone in my entourage just fine and spending quality time with them wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

“Have fun. I’ll uh, see you later.” While Jasper’s voice is calm, he looks anywhere but my eyes.

I try not to let my hurt show, but I know he must feel it. “Okay, you too.”

He offers me a smile that seems strained.

Once more, I brush off my insecurities and follow Rosalie outside to meet the guys. Emmett is grinning broadly, wringing his hands together.

“Since we ditched the wet blanket, I thought we’d hunt something a little more fun today,” He proposes, a gleam in his eye. Despite my down mood, I can’t help but be terribly interested.

“What did you have in mind?”

{***}

Bears. Bears were what he had in mind. I let out a shout of exhilaration as I wrestle with a grizzly five times my size. It’s a ridiculously intoxicating feeling to grapple with one of nature’s most feared predators and come out on top. It makes me feel so capable. And, unsurprisingly, grizzly blood is leagues better than that of a puny deer. I make a commitment to do this much more often.

By the end of it, my clothes are history, but thankfully, Rosalie thought to pack a change in our backpacks. She leads me behind a tree to change, laughing when we hear growls from both men and bear. They’re nearly indistinguishable, and the difference wouldn’t be perceptible at all to human ears.

But Jasper’s absence is still bothering me. This seems like something he would love, and it’s weird that he seemed intent on avoiding it. Did I do something to upset him? I weigh my options, and decide Rosalie is a trustworthy enough person to risk asking. It’s better than not knowing and letting my insecurities run wild.

Still, I try to sound unaffected, not wanting to reveal how much I actually care. “I wonder why Jasper didn’t want to join? Bears are so much more fun.”

Not at all fooled, Rosalie chuckles. “Jasper had some business in town to attend to. He can’t take you with him, for obvious reasons, and I guess he thought the three of us wouldn’t be that bad of a trade.”

I nod, feeling a bit better. It’s just an errand then, nothing I did personally.

But Rosalie grins, not done with me yet. “Why?”

“I don’t know, I just hoped I wasn’t annoying him or something.” I shrug, wanting to exit this conversation as quickly as possible.

“Please, I don’t think Jasper could ever be annoyed by you.”

Wait, what? “What do you mean?”

Rosalie laughs, pulling a twig out of my hair. “He hangs onto your every word. He waits on you hand and foot.” When I don’t respond, Rosalie raises her eyebrows, disbelieving. “You really haven’t noticed?”

I shrug, quickly running through the past six months of my new life. “I guess I just thought it was his job.”

Rose scoffs and shakes her head. “No. Now that he knows your limits he really only needs to be with you when you hunt.” She shrugs. “He enjoys your company.” Then, with the teasing smirk of an older sister, she begins to walk away. “Do with that information what you will.”

She leaves me, and I stand, stunned. So for the past who knows how long, Jasper has chosen to spend all that time with me? The realization makes my dead heart feel something I don’t recognize, something tender. Since Edward’s not here it makes no sense to police my own thoughts. And, if I’m being honest with myself, I totally seek out Jasper’s company too, regardless of the need for oversight. With him, everything is just so natural; I feel perfectly at home in this completely strange life. I gulp, not really sure what that all means.

Thankfully, Emmett saves me from figuring it out at the moment.

“Hey kid, let’s go! It looks like it’s gonna rain.”

We speed home, all wary of Alice’s reaction if we were to ruin even more items of her carefully curated designer clothes.

As it is, she gives me a disapproving look the moment we walk through the door. “Next time, please wear something more expendable.”

I frown, feeling bad, and Arthur grabs Alice’s hand and distracts her with a kiss before she can chastise me further.

“Sorry, Alice.”

But she only smiles, all traces of a sour mood gone.

I can hear Jasper shuffling papers down in the basement and I automatically take a step in that direction. Then, I pause, deciding that it might be beneficial to test Rosalie’s theory. So instead, I drop my bag by the couch, turn on my heel, and head upstairs to my room. I pick book off my shelf and wait.

Not three minutes later I hear his steps on the stairs and his knock on the door.

“Hey, can I come in?”

I pat the spot on the bed beside me. “Of course. How was town?”

He raises his eyebrows.

I smile guiltily. “Rosalie mentioned you had business there.”

He chuckles and sits, seeming more comfortable now. “Yeah, town was good. Got everything taken care of.”

Now it’s my turn to raise my eyebrows, but it quickly becomes apparent that he does not intend to expand upon the term ‘business’, so I let it go. “Emmett took me bear hunting.”

Jasper grins and pulls his legs into a criss-cross, leaning his back against the wall. “What’d you think?”

“So much better than deer,” I enthuse. His grin widens. I make a face like I’m suddenly remembering something. “Oh, I left my bag downstairs. Be right back.”

And before I can even swing my legs off the bed, he’s standing, shaking his head. “No, you look comfortable. I got it.”

A thrill so strong I know he feels it rushes through me. Rosalie might not have been too far off. Still, I school my expression by the time he returns.

I express my appreciation and decide to try the next reaction I want to test. I recount, in excruciating detail, my bear hunt. And, just as Rosalie said, he hangs onto my every word. He laughs at each bad joke and grins at each clear exaggeration. He actually listens. I can’t believe I’ve never noticed this before.

And then I feel a little bad for experimenting on him without his knowledge, so I try to make up for it. “Is there anything you want to do tonight?”

He shakes his head immediately. “I’m fine with doing whatever.”

“No,” I laugh, grabbing his arm and giving it a light shake. “You always have to do what I do and you’re such a good sport. It’s my turn to try something you like.”

He thinks, and then smiles almost self-consciously. “Well, okay. There’s this cliff and waterfall about eighty miles north of here that’s absolutely gorgeous. And, being virtually indestructible and all, it’s really fun to jump from the top and land in the pool of water beneath it. I haven’t been in forever.”

I smile as I stare up at him, game for anything he suggests. “Let’s do it.”

“Really? You’re sure?” I definitely am, but even if I wasn’t, his wide, excited beaming would make me say yes. It’s just too sweet to turn down.

“Absolutely.”

He stands then, evidently ready to put our plan in action. “Just don’t tell Esme.”

I want to question why, but suddenly remember Esme’s tragic experience with cliffs. I agree readily. As quietly as possible so as not to attract attention, we decide to gather our necessities and meet at the stairs in five minutes. I throw on a swimsuit Alice had the forethought to buy under an unassuming outfit. I grab one of my towels from the bathroom and toss it in my backpack. After a moment’s consideration, I add The Order of the Phoenix, feeling that it can’t hurt to bring it along. As planned, we join at the top of the stairs and walk slowly down, trying not to be too noticeable. But of course, it doesn’t work out that way, and we’re spotted the minute we make it to the kitchen.

“Where are you two going?” Esme’s question throws me off guard, and I panic.

“Hunting.”

Jasper eyes me clandestinely, obviously not pleased with my lack of improvisation finesse.

Emmett appears then, teasing. “What, bears not enough for you?”

Thankfully, Jasper’s at the top of his game. “Interacting with the humans in town today was a little much for me. I’d rather err on the side of caution.”

“What do you need Y/n for? To watch and shout encouragements?” Emmett laughs heartily at his own strange sense of humor.

Esme smiles, and I can’t tell if she fully believes us or not. Nevertheless, she lightly pushes on Emmett’s shoulder, directing him out of the kitchen with instructions to “leave us be”.

Once outside, I work to hold in my giggles until we’re out of earshot.

“Well, remind me to never involve you in a lie.” Jasper’s voice is teasing, and he pokes me lightly in my side.

I roll my eyes, unable to stop the laughter. “I panicked! I didn’t expect anyone to actually ask. Did they believe us though?”

Jasper shakes his head slowly, considering. “They were definitely suspicious. But for now, we’re in the clear. Just remind me to catch a deer or something on the way back so I won’t be a total fraud.”

I smile, mirth emboldening me to take his hand. And with that, we break into a run, excited to reach our destination.

A/n I work like every day this week so I probably should have spaced out posting these chapters. Whoops! Buuuut I’ve had a really fun time writing them and I’ve just been excited to get them out. So this week will probably be slower with the updates, sorry! Still, let me know what you thought about this chapter and if you would like to be added to the tag list!

xx,

Bjr

Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/623575983503638528/the-long-way-around-chapter-8

Tag list: @puer-de-infinitate @charliestuff @hindustani-diaspora @one-thread-can-save-a-life @salsameter @enchantedcruelsummer @meashy-moo @sana-li

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crashdevlin · 4 years

Text

Intense

One Night at a Time Masterlist

Author’s Note: Part seven of One Night at a Time series.

Summary: Y/n is trying to move on after Dean gets sent to Purgatory. She's hunting nonstop to outrun the questions in her head...what does she do when Dean shows up after more than a year?

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Benny x Reader (kinda)

Word count: 3575

Story Warnings: mentions of harm to reader, mentions of scars, poor self-esteem, angst, Dean being Dean (a bit of a jerk), 18+! HERE BE SEX!! DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, rough sex, creampie

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I should have been there, closer, beside him when he stabbed Dick Roman and sent him back to Purgatory. I should have stopped Crowley from getting his hands on Kevin. I should have done something more than just stand there while everything fell apart.

And I tried, you know? I tried to find another way into Purgatory. I tried for months to get Dean back. But it was useless. I was useless. Useless to Dean and Kevin and Sam, but not useless on a hunt. I’ve always been at my best on a job.

So I go back to hunting. Vamps and ghosts and this shifter in Utah...a few demons here and there. I jump from job to job, catching a few that aren’t even monsters because as soon as I slow down, my brain goes to Dean. Missing him, yes. Missing him with everything in me, but also...he might have liked me, but...he never said he dreamed of me until after Castiel fixed my scars. He never got nervous about sleeping with me when I had the scars. He was a bit of an asshole to me, actually.

So I hunt. To avoid questions that plague me that don’t even matter anymore, I hunt.

I haven’t heard from Sam in over a year. He’s not on the radar. He’s not hunting. I guess that’s better, leaves more jobs for me.

I get wind of a vampire sighting in Clayton, Louisiana. No body drop, just someone saying they saw a fanger, but I check it out anyway. I have to do something to keep my mind busy.

I go the normal route, bars and nightclubs are generally the way you find a fang, but there’s not a lot in that area in Clayton. One bar full of blue collar boys and no nightclubs. Still no bodies. I head to a local park overlooking a lake and sit on a small wooden bench. There’s something interesting about cypress trees sticking out of the water, Spanish moss hanging from the branches. It’s not pretty, not in any conventional way, but it is at the same time.

“You not from aroun’ here, are you?” a man says, moving to sit next to me on the bench.

I turn to look at him. A blue-eyed man with a light beard and a hat. He’s not quite the swamp-dwelling men I found at the bar. “What makes you say that?”

“Just got a feelin’ about you. Says you’s a traveler. You got a nomad look,” he says, smiling brightly.

I smile and nod. “Yeah. You could say that. I’ve been pretty much everywhere.”

“I used to do a lotta sailin’, so I been around a few times. Sometimes, I think I can sense people with an envie to roam. Mus’ be what drew me ta you.” He smiles at me again and I chuckle.

“Are you sure it wasn’t the fact that I was a weirdo staring at the water? Didn’t come over here to check me into a mental hospital or something?” I ask, smirking.

“Nah. Pretty lady with her head lost in the cypress? Nothin’ wrong wit’ dat.”

I feel my cheeks heat up and look away toward the trees again. “Thank you.”

“No problem, cher. I’m Benny.”

“Y/n,” I respond, offering my hand. He takes it and kisses the knuckles. His lips are a bit cold, but it’s pretty cool for August.

“Well, iss real nice meetin’ you, Y/n. You gonna be around town a few days?” he asks. Is he flirting with me?

“Maybe. The ‘envie to roam’ might kick up real soon.” Might not be anything here and I have to find a job soon. I have to find a distraction.

“Well, if you don’t roam before tonight, I could buy you a drink?”

I lick my bottom lip between my teeth and nod. What better way to look inconspicuous on a vamp hunt than to have drinks with a handsome man? “That’d be nice, Benny. I’ll meet you at the bar at 7?”

“I’d like that.”

He’d like that. Why would he? Why did he even want to talk to me?

I go anyway. He buys us beers. He's charming and funny, down to earth but not simple. I don't know if it's the quaint Louisiana backwoods of him or what, but he seems like a man out of time. Which should have been the first clue, but my Spidey-sense doesn't go off until he walks me to my car and leans in to kiss me.

It's nice and he's an amazing kisser, but the fact that he's kissing me?

My mind goes to Marco.

I whisper 'Cristo' when he pulls away, but he doesn't flinch, just looks at me a bit odd. "I didn't think I was that good a kisser you gotta call for the Lord, cher."

I nod and smile tightly. "Right. Uh...I had a nice night, Benny. You've got my number. Text me sometime," I ramble out a bit before I slide into my driver's seat and peel out of the parking lot. He must be the fang I'm looking for. Only explanation. It's the only reason he'd flirt with me, kiss me, why his lips were cold. Trying to get me alone so he can drink me or turn me.

I'll set a trap, get some dead man's blood, confirm what he is...Benny's big so maybe I should have some backup but at the end of the day, he's just one vamp and I've taken down bigger.

I'm trying to figure out a way to get some dead man's blood in this nowhere town when there's a knock on my motel door. I grab my gun and approach, looking through the peephole. I almost drop my gun.

Dean Winchester, or something that looks like him, is standing at my door.

“Open the door, Y/n!” It knows my name. “And put the piece away. You can test me as soon as you open up.”

It can’t be him. It can’t but...if anyone could claw his way back…

I open the door and stare blankly at him for a minute. “You...can’t...be.”

He smiles and steps inside. “You got some borax, holy water, silver knife?” I just stare for another few moments. “Okay, well, I got the knife,” he says, pulling out a knife I recognize and slicing it across his arm.

“How are you here?” I whisper.

“Long story,” he says, wrapping a handkerchief around his arm. “Borax?”

I swallow and rush to my duffel bag. After I splash him with cleaner and holy water, I hand him a towel. “It’s really you?”

“Yeah. It’s really me.” He sets the towel aside and licks his lips, grimacing at the taste of the borax. “I was sad when Sammy told me he hadn’t seen you all year.”

I shrug and look away. “I was keepin’ busy...he wasn’t.”

“How busy?” he asks.

“Busy enough.” Had a lot on my mind.

“Sam retired. You hear about that?”

“I assumed. He dropped off the face of the earth and left all the good cases for me.” I sit on the edge of the bed and look at my feet.

“He was in Texas.” He moves to stand over me, looking down. “You been hunting by yourself again?”

“Nothing new, Dean.” I shake my head. “The only time I wasn’t hunting solo was the few months I was with you and Sam. I’m good without backup.”

“But Sam shouldn’t have abandoned you to go play house with some chick in-”

“Does it really matter?” I look up and sigh. “He deserved a break.”

“No, he didn’t! I was in Purgatory and he just quit. At least you kept fighting.”

“I didn’t really have a choice.” I clear my throat and bite my bottom lip. "So you got out."

"Yep. I did."

"How'd you find me?" I ask.

"Friend found you for me...not that he was really looking." He clicks his tongue against his teeth and clears his throat. "So Sam and I just got done doin’ a wolf case in Michigan...got a few days probably...unless you got something-”

“I’m on a fang. If you wanted to-”

“How many victims?” he asks, a little too quickly.

“Well, none but someone I trust saw the thing. Just because they haven’t killed anyone yet doesn’t mean-”

“Y/n.” He grabs my chin and tilts my face up to look at him. He’s still so beautiful but there’s something primal in his eyes. “No body means no monster. You don’t need to be here.”

“I’m s-sure there’s a...there was this guy, B-Benny, he-”

“No, babe.”

“Guys don’t give me attention unless they have a motive, Dean.” I pull away from him and his eyes narrow at me and a chill goes down my spine. Not a good one, though. I’m fucking scared...of Dean. That primal look in his eyes is terrifying and I’ve faced down a lot scarier shit than him.

“Motive? What’s that supposed to-” His jaw ticks as he steps close and crowds me a bit. “You’re back on your bullshit about people not liking you, aren’t you?”

“I don’t get attention, Dean. Benny is just Marco part two.”

“Marco was sent after you, Y/n. Benny just found you.”

“Or I found him! Maybe he’s the one I was here looking for and-”

Dean reaches out and grabs my hair, making me gasp. “Benny is not your concern. No one’s died. You’re after nothing,” he practically growls at me.

“Okay!” I squeak and it’s pathetic...but he’s scaring the fuck outta me. What the hell? What happened to him while he was gone? “There’s nothing here.”

He lets go of my hair and sighs. “Why don’t you pack up and we’ll go meet up with Sam?”

“Dean...I don’t-”

“Y/n.” There’s a warning in his tone and I look away from him.

“Fine. Can we stay here tonight? I’m kinda exhausted.” I don’t wanna go anywhere with him acting like this. Maybe he’ll be less scary in the morning. Unlikely.

He sighs again, obviously annoyed with me, but he nods and pulls his jacket off. He tosses it at the chair in the corner and flops down onto the bed, pulling out his phone. “I’ll call Sam. Let him know.”

I nod and move to the other side of the bed, lying down and turning onto my side away from him.

All the questions I was running from, working to hide from, they all come flooding back as Dean settles into the bed with me. The questions bring friends. Why is he here? Why would he come here? Who found me for him? Why did he want me found? And why’s he being an asshole again?

Not just an asshole, but a scary asshole. And I don’t think I want to hunt with him like this. I’m uncomfortable. I’m anxious. I’m confused. I’m...sneaking out of bed while he sleeps and getting out of Louisiana. I’ll call Sam when I get some miles between me and Dean. I just can’t do this right now.

I know he hates it when I leave without saying ‘goodbye’ so I leave a note.

Then I leave. I make it to a convenience store in Meridian, Mississippi before I have to stop. I get bad mileage in this old car. I set the pump and head inside, grabbing a case of beer and a hand basket full of snacks. I drop them in the backseat and go around to the restrooms, hoping for something clean-ish. I push open the door, but I haven’t stepped into the room when a hand covers my mouth and I get forced into the room.

“Don’t fuckin’ scream.” It’s Dean. Fuck. At least the bathroom’s clean, I’m not grossed out when he presses me into the wall with his body. “The fuck do you think you’re doin’?”

He pulls his hand away from my mouth and I take a deep breath. “You’re scaring me, Dean,” I whisper.

“Oh, I’m scaring you?” he snaps, grabbing my shoulder and twisting me around to face him. His eyes are wild and full of rage. “You know I hate it when you disappear on me. You didn’t even stick around an hour before you left this time! Ya know, you’re always worried about how people don’t like you, but you’re the one that’s not givin’ anyone a chance to get close.”

“Dean, you’re being a dick. Why would I stick around when you’re scaring me?” My voice is squeaky, my body almost shaking. I can face monsters any day of the week, but I’m shaking over this man.

His face softens, his eyes losing a bit of their edge, and I think he’s gonna step back from me for a moment, but he doesn’t. He steps closer, leans his head down, hovers his lips over mine. Suddenly, I’m feeling a tingling lust between my thighs on top of the fearful shaking in my limbs. “Wasn’t tryin’ to be a dick, baby,” he whispers, his breath warming my lips. “Just spent a year in Purgatory. Came back a little...intense.”

“That’s an understatement.” My head’s getting a little dizzy as my heart thuds in my chest.

“Spent all that time missin’ you, wanting you, dreaming of burying my cock in your tight little cunt.” I gasp as he grabs my waist with one hand and braces himself against the wall next to my head with the other. “Intense isn’t necessarily a bad thing, Y/n.”

"Dean," I whimper. I want him. I always want him, but hearing those words...that he was thinking of me… "Why would you miss me?"

He rolls his eyes, and it's this aggressive thing that chills me. "You gotta stop this shit. I spent all those months buildin' you up, showin' you how much I appreciate you and all that work I put in...it's just gone?"

"Why?" I whisper before I can stop myself. His eyebrows come together and I close my eyes. "I'm not...worth...any-"

'Shut it!" he growls and I jolt against him, eyes opening and finding his. "You are worth everything I could ever fuckin' give you. I put the effort in because you deserve it, because I need you, Y/n. The last year of my life has been death and destruction, and fear and adrenaline, and the only thing that kept me going was the thought of makin' it back here to you and my brother. You're like family.”

‘Family’. I’m like...needs me? He-

I lean forward and kiss him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him close. My brain’s not working right, I’m overwhelmed and confused, but my body knows what I want. He groans and presses me harder into the wall, pushing my shirt up and grabbing my breasts over the bra. He drops his hands to the front of my jeans, popping open the button and sliding his hand into my underwear to cup my mound.

I suck his tongue into my mouth as he starts fingering me. He’s going a little rougher than he used to. That scary primal energy is translating into something...so sexy. “Oh, god,” I whisper as he works two fingers against my inner walls. “Shit! Dean, fuck!”

“You make the prettiest fuckin’ noises.” His voice rumbles in my ear, makes me clench around his fingers. “You gonna cum on my fingers, baby?”

I whine and grind against his fingers. I’m so close. God, he’s so good at making me feel good. “I’m gonna--Dean, I’m gonna--Don’t stop!”

“I’m gonna make you cum ‘til you can’t fuckin’ stand it, Y/n,” he promises, pressing the heel of his palm into my clit. I squeal as my toes curl in my shoes and my orgasm crashes over me. I don’t even have a chance to get my wits about me before he’s spun me around and pushed me over the sink. He yanks my pants down to my boots, but he tears my panties off. I hold back the shriek that wants to bubble up as the cotton rips at the sides. He starts sucking at the skin of my neck, digging his teeth into my shoulder as he fumbles with his belt and jeans. He knocks my knees apart and leans over me, sliding his cock along my slit a few times before he slides in all at once.

“Dean!”

He’s rough, fucks me hard, digs his fingertips into my waist, my boobs, my thighs. He bites into my shoulder through my shirt, punches air out of my lungs with each thrust. He moves a hand between my thighs to pluck at my clit and I scream as I cum again, but he’s not done. He’s making good on his promise to make me cum ‘til I can’t stand it, definitely ‘til I can’t stand, because my legs are shaking and weak, the sink is the only thing holding me up as he keeps going. How is he still going?

“Dean, please! I need--I need you--”

“What’d’you need?”

“Need to feel you fill me up,” I whimper. Oh, that’s stupid. I’m not on the pill. But why is it so hot?

He hisses and kisses my jaw and pinches my clit. “One more, Y/n. Gimme one more.”

“I can’t!”

“Yes, you can,” he demands. He sucks my earlobe into his mouth and nibbles on it, rolls my clit between his thumb and first finger. “Cum for me, one more time, cowgirl.” He moves faster, fucks me hard and plays with my clit more and I cum screaming into the mirror over the sink. “Good girl.” He moves his hand away from my clit and braces it against our reflection. He hammers into me, lasts another few thrusts before his breath catches as he cums, his cock twitching as he gasps in pulls of air. “Fuck. That was...so worth it.”

I don’t disagree. Fuck.

He pulls out, holds me up as he fixes his clothes, then moves to fix mine. He caresses my cheek and leans in to kiss me passionately. I’m a bit breathless when he pulls away. Intense. He’s definitely...intense.

“You changed,” I whisper. “Purgatory changed you.”

“Of course it did,” he responds, licking his lips. “But what are you, specifically, referring to?”

I look away. His eyes are too green, too hypnotic. “You were gentle before you left...almost awkward with me after Castiel made me kinda...pretty again?” I don’t know why that turned into a question.

“You were always pretty.” He bites his bottom lip and sighs. “Last time we were here, when you gave me your motel key...I was gentle then too, right? And that was way before Cas healed you. You’re right that I wasn’t awkward then, but I wasn’t tryin’ to build a relationship back then.”

My eyes go wide. “Relationship?” I squeak.

“Well, duh.” He seems amused by my shock. “What’d you think this was, Y/n? An extended one night stand?”

I shake my head. “I...I, um...relationship? What kind of-”

He shrugs and leans against the wall he originally pushed me into. “Why we gotta label it? It’s...I mean, I like you. You like me. We like bein’ around each other. We like fuckin’ each other.”

“Oh, for a second I thought you might be saying something real,” I snap. Thought he might want something like he had with...never mind. “You’re right. Why label what I mean to you?”

He rolls his eyes and sighs. “You comin’ with me or not?” he asks.

I swallow and bite the edge of my tongue. “Yeah. I guess. Since you chased me off from Clayton.”

He licks his lips. “Full disclosure, babe...there was a vamp in Clayton. Benny. Benny was a vamp, but he really approached you just because he thought you were hot and he’s not bad. Dude’s practically vegan.”

My eyes go wide. “I was right? And you know him?”

“It’s a long story,” he says again. “I met him in Purgatory. He helped me stay alive, helped me get free. Like I said, he’s a good guy and he hasn’t been a danger since before he got sent to Purgatory, okay?”

I blink at him a few times. “You…”

“Look, he’s the whole reason I knew where to find you, so you should be thankin’ him for callin’ me.”

“Wh--how’d he even know who I was?” I ask.

“Recognized you from my description.”

“You talked about me? To a...some fang?”

He steps close to me again. “I missed you. So I talked about you. So he recognized you and he called me.” He bites his bottom lip and reaches out to touch my cheek again. “Label or not...you’re important to me. Benny knows that.”

I lick my lips. “Okay...I guess?”

“I’ll tell Sam we’re comin’.” He starts to walk away but he stops at the bathroom door. “Don’t tell Sam about Benny. Please. Not yet. He’s not...we’re still gettin’ our footing. Please.”

I nod and push off from the sink. “Guess he doesn’t need to know yet.”

“Awesome. Let’s get out of here.” He reaches out and I take his hand and he pulls me out of the bathroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Kitchen Sink - @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @wasabiwitteks @rainbowkisses31 @rissbennett @mariekoukie6661 @officiallyunofficialperson @dolphincliffs @mrs-meghan-winchester @gayspacenerd @foxyjwls007 @ilovefanfic86 @marvelfansworld @f-yeahfandoms @wonderlandfandomkingdom @hhiggs @sev3nruby @hobby27 @paintballkid711 @divadinag @thewhiterabbit42 @fantasymyth-1 @queenoftheunderdark @cosicas-cuquis @superfanficnatural @letsby @supernatural-bellawinchester @onethirstyunicorn @swinchester27 @chalicia @sunnyroadtrips @screechingartisancashbailiff @death-unbecomes-you Hunter Tags - @atc74 @sandlee44 @spnbaby-67 @kalesrebellion @tumbler-tidbits @hoboal87 @stoneyggirl @kbl1313 @cookiechipdough @mrswhozeewhatsis @winchesterxfamilybusiness @holylulusworld @pretty-fortune @screechingartisancashbailiff @we-are-all-a-bunch-of-idjits @imperiusimpala Gaga For Green Eyes Tags- @typicalweirdbookworm @deanmonandnegansbitch @jadesupernatural @stoneyggirl @4fareader @squirrelnotsam @lyarr24 @akshi8278 @pretty-fortune @we-are-all-a-bunch-of-idjits

#cassie writes stuff #spn fanfic #reader-insert #Dean x reader #benny lafitte

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