#hope you have a wonderful day!!!!!!!!!! and weekend!!!!!! and year!!!!!!!! and life!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you deserve the best | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oddinary4bts · 7 months

Text

When the End Comes | ch 4 (jjk)

☆summary: Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

☆pairing: photographer!Jungkook x lawyer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there is mature content in every chapter)

☆genre: breakup!au, slice of life!au, angst with a big A, smut

☆warnings: fear of getting stood up, alcohol, pet names, curses, Jungkook's scars, angst, stubborn Jungkook, pessimism, depressive episode, cliffhanger at the end I'm sorry, explicit content: jerking off, oral sex (male receiving), Jungkook taking pictures of them during (I apologize, I have sinned), balls sucking/fondling, pain kink (Jungkook), deep throating, mouth fucking, unprotected sex, hickey, clit play, degradation, fingering, cum play (ish?)

☆word count: 14.3k

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: Rereading each chapter to edit is a challenge bc I just be sobbing the whole time :') I hope you enjoy this one, though it does really hurt oop

☆a/n pt2: Thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing this, you are the best <3 and thank you to @jessikahathaway for supporting me with this project, you are amazinnng

☆Read The Forgotten Spaces here, the prequel to When the End Comes! It does not need to be read to understand When the End Comes, but I think it still should be read first to have a better understanding of the characters in general!

☆Add yourself to the taglist here (if you were on the taglist for The Forgotten Spaces, you're already on the taglist for When the End Comes!)

☆☆☆☆☆

But love never leaves a heart, where it found it, found it You found it Someday, I'll fall into you That's where I'll be now when the end comes

When the End Comes, Andrew Belle

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, September 8th

You clutch the gift bag in your hand. It feels strange to be meeting Jungkook again, after last weekend. And even after last weekend, you’re not sure where you’re standing.

Did he spend his whole week thinking about you the way that you were thinking about him?

You texted a little, over the week. Each time a notification from him popped up on your phone, you felt like you’d gone back in time. Like maybe, maybe you took a time machine to a past of better days last weekend. It’s bittersweet in a way, because you feel like there is still so much left unsaid between you and him.

But he’s willing to try. Even if you broke him, even if you’ve been wondering if there’s anything salvageable after all, he’s willing to try. Willing to meet you at a Korean barbecue restaurant halfway between his place and yours.

You check the time, anxiety flooding your veins. He’s running late, though he texted you to tell you he was almost there. A part of you wonders if he’s going to stand you up – you think you’d deserve it. Because you’re not sure you deserve this chance, yet you don’t want to lose it, don’t want to let it go.

You look down at the bag. You bought the gift on a whim this week, and you have no idea if he’ll still want it. It’s a lens he was looking to buy months ago, before he left for Paris, and there’s a high chance that he’ll have bought it for himself since then…

You just couldn’t think about anything other than that to gift him. Even though his work was your demise, you know Jungkook loves photography. Always will, no matter where you two will end up. And since it was his birthday last weekend – before you’d reconnected – you thought why not? Why not get a gift and show him that you still care, that you remember?

Because you’d never forget, when it comes to him. You think, if you had dementia, he’d be the last thing you’d lose, if at all.

You worry at your lip, glancing around. Luckily enough for you, there is a bench outside of the restaurant, though you can only sit on a corner of it as the rest is still wet from the rain earlier. It was raining when you left work, but it fortunately stopped as you were getting ready for the date.

You sigh, looking down at your phone again. Twenty minutes late seems like a long time, considering that Jungkook’s not one to be late usually. A sense of dread takes ahold of your heart, and you already feel tears forming in your eyes.

You were foolish, stupid. Idiotic, if you thought there was a way things could be set right.

You get up, looking towards the door of the restaurant. A couple are waiting in the hall, arms around each other as they hug with not a care in the world. It aches deeply, makes you crave the physical intimacy last Saturday held and you gulp as you swallow around the lump in your throat.

Still you stay rooted in your spot. There’s a light tremor that starts taking a hold of you, and you regret not putting a jacket on even though it isn’t remotely freezing today. Your eyes fall to the gift bag, and you think about May. About the moment you’d let him go – has he gotten too far for you to reach him now?

A tear wins. Or perhaps it’s the gravity, growing ten times stronger as your heart breaks again. As the hope gets lost to you, replaced by that same deep sorrow you’ve become accustomed to. You sigh, the breath of air trembling on the way out.

And then you almost let out a scream as someone touches your arm.

Jungkook startles just as much as you, taking a step back, his big, doe eyes widening even more as he meets your gaze. Your mouth remains open, yet no words come out. You just take him in, take his appearance in – his piercings, the beanie he’s wearing, his flushed cheeks. He looks like he was running, and you think maybe he was.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you.

At that your eyes drop to the bright pink bouquet of flowers he’s holding, and something inside of you heals, as if you’ve found a cure to the disease.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you let out. You meet his gaze again. “You didn’t have to.”

He pulls at his piercings, shrugging sheepishly. “I wanted to.”

It’s warm. Whatever is blossoming in your chest is warm, a stark contrast to the winter you’ve been stuck in since the night you lost him.

“Thank you,” you murmur, and you blink away the tears in your eyes.

You freeze when he wipes the one that’s already rolled on your cheek, frowning slightly at the sight.

“The florist I wanted to go to first was closed,” he says as an explanation. “I had to run around to find another one.”

You offer him a small smile, and his features immediately smooth out into a soft expression too.

“I was scared you were…” you trail off, wetting your lips as you refuse to voice your fear.

Refuse to admit you didn’t have faith in him.

“I thought you would,” he answers carefully. “Hence why I ran.”

You nod. “I…” You look down at the gift bag, holding it up. “I got you a birthday gift.”

His smile is teary when you look at it next, and you take a moment to delve into the depths of his gaze. There’s a small twinkle there, though it is faint, barely even noticeable. If you didn’t know him like the sun knows the moon, you wouldn’t recognize it.

He’s hopeful. It’s strange – there was no hope in Jungkook’s gaze last weekend. Or there had been, for a fraction of a moment, until it had been blown away by the wind. You can only hope that this time it will hold on strong.

“You didn’t have to,” he says, though the curve of his pink lips tells you he appreciates the thought.

He grabs the gift bag, not looking through it right away. Instead, he hands you the flowers, and you delicately take them, bringing them close to your nose so that you can inhale the fragrance. Your eyelids flutter shut, and a content smile moves on your lips.

“Thank you,” you murmur as you meet his gaze again. “And…” You motion towards the gift. “You deserved it. I think you’ll like it.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence, as Jungkook looks down at the bag. He offers you a tight-lipped smile, and you cock an eyebrow.

“What?” he lets out.

“Aren’t you going to…” you vaguely answer. “Open it?”

“Oh, now?” He chuckles awkwardly, glancing around before pointing towards the restaurant. “Shouldn’t we go in to give our names?”

He’s got a point. Especially considering that it’s a Friday evening. So you do just that, giving your phone number to the hostess as she tells you there will be a thirty minutes wait. You and Jungkook move back outside after that, and he guides you towards his car, a few streets down.

“How was work this week?” he asks on the way.

“Better,” you admit, remembering how you’d told him that you didn’t like the new department in which you worked.

And it’s true – it has been better. Maybe because the excitement of receiving texts from him through the days made it easier to handle. Or maybe it’s because you haven’t been so damned cold since last weekend. All in all, work has been easier, even if it isn’t as interesting as it used to be.

“I’m glad,” he says, offering you a smile.

Silence surrounds the two of you, only interrupted by a car honking in the street. You startle a little, and Jungkook chuckles.

You’re struck. His chuckles have healing properties, you’re convinced of it. They spark hope into you, so bright you think you’ll be blinded, retina forever burned. Yet your eyes don’t lose focus on him, even as his lips return to a neutral expression.

“What about you?” you ask as your heart picks up in your chest. “What were you up to this week?”

A small crease appears between his brows, but it disappears so quickly you think you might have imagined it. “I’ve been going to the gym,” he answers. “And looking around for some jobs.”

His last sentence turns the hope into a firework show inside of you. “Yeah? Any luck so far?”

You reach his car, and as he always does, he opens the door for you. You blush, something you haven’t really done with Jungkook in forever, and you’re struck thinking that this feels new.

Perhaps this will be a new chapter in your relationship with Jeon Jungkook after all.

“Thank you,” you mutter as your cheeks burn. You sit in, and he closes the door before moving around the car to get in. You watch him do so, and he sits next to you, turning the car on just long enough so that you can roll the windows down.

“Now,” he lets out, eyeing the bag. “What’s this?”

For some reason, it makes you chuckle, and he shoots you a dumb smile that makes you think you’ve delved right into the heat of summer, warmth spreading through you. It erases the winter, replaces it with blooming flowers and bright sun rays, golden sunsets and the feeling of a soft breeze threading through your hair.

Needless to say, you want to cling to it before winter comes again.

“Open and you’ll see,” you answer, your heart racing as you glance at the bag, before going back to his smile.

He nods, and he opens the bag, taking out the paper first. Your heartbeat increases tenfold because, what if he doesn’t like it?

What if he takes it as an affront that you’ve given him something photography related?

But then he sees it. Sees the lens you bought for him, and his features turn somber, but not in a bad way. They settle into a calm expression, with a softer smile that barely even tugs at the corners of his lips. He takes a deep breath, and then looks towards you again.

Teary eyes find yours, and you think maybe this is it. Maybe this is where the end will find you. Lost in the swirling depth of his gaze, in the forgotten space of you and him.

He whispers your name, emotion making it heavier than the whole world. You nod once, as no sentences take shape in your mind to reply to him. You’re not sure you have to say something – he sees in your eyes the emotions you can’t quite voice.

“You really didn’t have to,” he adds, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps. “Fuck.”

He looks down at the lens, takes it out of the bag so that he can examine it thoroughly. You observe him as he does so, as if you’re watching a show. And you think, maybe he is a show – a movie meant for you to admire on and on until you go old and blindness seeps into your gaze.

“I wanted to,” you reply.

He shoots you a quick look, just as teary as the initial one. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

And then he laughs, a small vulnerable laugh that has you blinking back the wetness building up on your waterline. You echo it with one of yours, though it comes unexpectedly to you. But then again, you reckon you share the same feelings.

You always have, haven’t you? Your soul is in sync with his, has always been, no matter if distance put an end to the story of you and him. Or tried to, because he’s here today.

So are you, and if he allows it, you’ll never leave again.

“I’ve wanted this lens in forever,” he says, voice small as he turns it in his hands, looking at it in every possible angle. “You…” he trails off, meets your gaze and smiles again. “You remembered.”

You nod. “How could I forget?” You worry at your lips, shy away from his gaze to watch your wriggling fingers in your lap. “There isn’t a day I didn’t think of you.”

The revelation seems out of place, in a parked car on the side of a busy street. Yet it comes naturally to you, and meets him just as naturally. Because he nods, and then reaches for you. Grabs your jaw, gently, so that he can turn your head towards him. There’s a moment when you think the whole world holds his breath, and then he leans forward, brushes a soft kiss on your lips.

“I missed you,” he admits as he pulls away, letting go of your jaw reluctantly.

A tear slips on your cheek, and you quickly dry it. “I missed you too.”

And though the moment is heavy with emotion, you don’t want to run away from it. When you were younger, you would have fled like a deer hearing a branch crack in the woods. But today, today you want the weight of this emotion to rest upon you, like a weighted blanket that reminds you you’re alive.

The emotion lingers, past this moment and into the next. As you get the text that a table is ready for you and him, and you move back to the Korean restaurant. As you sit in front of him, watch him smile and laugh in time with you at the stupid jokes that you make.

You and him make more sense than you realized. Or maybe you forgot. Maybe the distance made you forget, but right now you think you know he’ll always be the one. And if you lose him again, he’ll be the one that got away, and you’ll search for him through every connection with temporary people.

Because there can’t be permanent people after him. He’s permanently inked into your heart, carved into your bones.

“How has your family been?” he asks when there’s a lull in the conversation.

You offer him a tight-lipped smile, though you know he means your father, Isabel and Louis.

You know he’d never talk about your mother as part of your family.

“They’ve been great,” you answer. “Dad’s been looking to retire, or at least to have a lesser charge at work.”

Jungkook furrows his brows, but says nothing as he puts some meat on the grill between you and him. You observe him as he does so, wincing when flames erupt and he pulls his hand away – quickly enough, thankfully.

“How old is he again?” Jungkook asks after that, meeting your gaze again.

“Fifty-nine,” you reply. “But I don’t think it’s about his age. He just wants to spend more time with Louis.”

The softness that takes over his doe eyes makes you want to curl up in him, against him. Makes you want to listen to his beating heart until the day that it ceases, decades away from now. It’s a strong feeling, and you’re forced to blink away tears again.

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook gently says, and he reaches to pat your cheek.

It makes you laugh. Of course it does, and he offers you a dumb smile again. For the first time that night, you notice that yes, it does reach his eyes. The smile lights up his gaze, though there’s wariness, etched in the lines of his face.

It’s not that you missed it before. Maybe you just didn’t want to see it. But right in this instant, it’s all you can see, and it makes his smile fall until his eyes follow, moving to the grill. He turns the meat as you busy yourself with eating japchae.

And you don’t like this silence. You don’t like the ache that it carries, so you force yourself to try. To try and fight for him and prove that, after everything, he really is where the end will be, when it comes for you.

“What about your family?” you ask, throwing him a lifeline in the storm you’re sure he’s been plagued with too.

“They’ve been great,” he answers. “My brother’s wife is pregnant again.”

For a moment you forget about the torment between you and him as your mind zeroes in on the fact. “That’s amazing!” you let out, and your smile comes easily. “They must be so happy.”

Jungkook looks at your smile, taking a deep breath. It seems he takes a decision then, because his lips curve up, and some of the wariness fades away. He looks softer like this, younger, and your heart shines under his light.

“It really is,” he says. “I was thinking on going to Korea to see the baby when Yuri gives birth.”

In another world, you would have said you’ll go with him, but right now you don’t think you can. So, instead, you reply, “That’s a good idea. I’m sure your family will be happy to see you.”

He nods, and then he puts some meat in your bowl, taking the two other stripes for himself. You mindlessly pick one of the pieces up, mixing it in ssamjang before eating it. You wince as you burn your tongue a little, and quickly eat the meat so that you can take a long gulp of water.

Jungkook must have expected you to burn yourself, because he laughs at your expense as he refills your glass. “You good?”

You nod. “Sorry, just burned myself.”

“Don’t apologize.”

So you don’t. For the rest of the evening, you try not to apologize. And you think you succeed – you both speak as if distance wasn’t a thing between you. As if time hasn’t come to pass between you too – as if you’ve never been apart. As if, seven years ago, the stars told the truth as they sparkled in the July night sky.

You finish eating while chatting like this, while sharing thoughts about movies you’ve seen. As he tells you about working out, about Bam and the songs he’s been listening to. He drinks a beer as you speak, and you once again take a moment to admire him.

You’d never admit it, but the beanie makes him look good. Comfortable and soft – as does the jean jacket, you reckon. But then again you know Jungkook would look good in anything, one of the advantages of him being gifted with pretty privilege.

And when he clinks his glass with yours, claiming you have to finish drinking even though you’ve only been drinking water, you still laugh with him, still down your glass as he chugs the beer. And you wonder, how long will it take to erase the distance?

Will it take more than this moment in time, to undo the distance and rebuild the closeness?

And you think, maybe it just needs now. Because as you walk out, bellies full and minds buzzing with a slight tinge of alcohol, you accept Jungkook’s extended hand. You let him guide you to his car, even though yours is parked on the other side of the restaurant. He opens the door for you again, but you hesitate for a moment.

Long enough to step closer to him instead, and pull him down so you can peck his lips. He looks surprised, and his features fall serious as you share a long look.

“Can I come over tonight?” you whisper.

He nods. “I thought it was a given.”

Of course he would. And you’re not even mad that he would. You’re rather relieved, and you can’t help yourself. You can’t help pulling him down in a more heated kiss, even though you hate public displays of affection. There are just words your lips can’t say any other way than this, and he gets it. He’ll always get you. He always will, and he kisses you with the same intensity, one hand cupping your cheek gently while the other presses on the small of your back, resting flat as he pulls you in. You hold his delicate waist, sighing in the kiss as your thumbs draw idle lines on his sides.

Jungkook pulls away to press a kiss on your forehead, lingering there for a small eternity that leads to you wrapping your arms around his waist. He lets you do it, and you wonder if his soul has found yours. You hope it has, for there are things your soul can say even better than your mouth can.

Apologies don’t mean much when they are shaped in words. But you think your soul could show him, and maybe, maybe tonight he’ll allow you to show him.

“Are you parked somewhere you can leave your car overnight?” he asks softly, lips moving against your forehead.

You nod. “I am.”

“Then let’s go home.”

*****

It comes as a surprise, when you realize Jungkook has moved in the same building as Kiko and Yoongi. Even more so as they run into you on the way in, knowing smiles on their lips as Jungkook holds your hand tight. They don’t really say a lot – both of them aren’t man and woman of words, except when they pour them into the lyrics of a song.

But Kiko does hug you. Does whisper in your ear that she wishes everything will be set right for the two of you, and when you pull away to meet Jungkook’s gaze, you think it already is. Especially as you’re clutching the flowers he got for you, and their sweet fragrance surrounds you.

And then they walk away, as they were leaving to go on a late walk, and you and Jungkook walk in the building, making your way to the elevator. Jungkook presses the call button, and then pulls you close to his chest so that he can press a kiss on the top of your head.

“Well, that was awkward,” he says.

You chuckle. “It wasn’t really.”

His grip tightens around you before he lets you go so that you can enter the elevator. He follows you in, and he intertwines your fingers as he presses on the fourth floor. As the elevator starts moving, you pull him closer, tilting your head back as you pout slightly.

“What?” he asks.

“Kiss me?”

He doesn’t need to be asked twice. He immediately dives in, and you’re surprised with the strength of the kiss. As if he’s pouring his entire soul in it, and you think maybe he is. After all, you kiss him back with all the fire in you, and it’s burning brighter than it ever has.

Unfortunately, the moment is short-lived as you reach his floor and the doors slide open. He pulls away, presses a kiss on your forehead as if he wasn’t sucking on your tongue a moment ago, and then he pulls you behind him as he walks towards his door.

It’s further down the hall, and you wait excitedly as he unlocks. Though you’re a little worried about seeing Bam again – what if he doesn’t recognize you?

Which, you reckon was a stupid thought, because the dog comes barging out, tail wagging wildly, when Jungkook manages to get the door open.

“Bamie!” you exclaim, and Jungkook carefully takes the bouquet of flowers from your hand to allow you to bend down and pet the dog.

He licks at your face, whimpering as if he thought he’d lost you. It brings tears to your eyes, and you giggle like a kid as you pet him, rubbing his short fur as he keeps running all around you.

“I think he’s happy to see you,” Jungkook deadpans, and you burst out laughing.

You look up to try and look at Jungkook, but Bam jumps in your vision, which makes you giggle again. And then, something magical happens. Something you didn’t think you’d hear again – Jungkook laughs that childish laugh of his, the one that usually only comes forth when he’s really happy.

You act by pure instinct. You stand up, wrap your arms around Jungkook’s neck. His giggle dies against your lips, but he’s quick to kiss you back as he snakes his inked arm around your back. You let out a breathy sound, and then burst into a fit of giggles as Bam jumps on you.

“I think he demands attention,” you state and Jungkook nods as you part, though he keeps his arm close to you.

“We should take him on a walk,” he says, and you notice his cheeks are flushed red. You reckon yours probably are too, but there’s something about seeing the effect that you have on him, even after everything, that makes you come undone.

“I’m so happy to be with you right now,” you murmur.

He gulps, eyes shining suddenly. “Me too.” He adds your name softly, before repeating, “Me too.”

You walk in his apartment after that, to put the flowers in a large glass of water since Jungkook doesn’t own any vase. Meanwhile, he disappears in what you assume is the bedroom, only to reappear with his camera. To your surprise, he’s already fitted the new lens on it.

It’s endearing. There’s something so incredibly endearing at the thought that your gift is loved already, that Jungkook already wants to use it. It makes a line of silver appear in your eyes, and you don’t even blink it away as Jungkook angles the camera towards you to take a picture.

“Huh,” he lets out as he looks at the picture. He adjusts some settings, and before he’s had time to take another picture of you, Bam comes up to you, jumping up. His two paws rest on your waist as you laugh, and that’s when Jungkook snaps the picture.

You glance his way to see him smiling softly, and then he nods appreciatively. “I’m going to use this lens way too much,” he comments.

It makes you laugh. “I’m glad.”

And then you’re going outside with the dog. Jungkook brings the camera, and he snaps pictures of the surroundings, of you and Bam. He even takes one of the three of you, though you reckon the angle is clearly unflattering.

It doesn’t feel like it matters. Because you’re struck realizing that this, this moment matters. It matters enough for him to want to commit it to memory, and you wonder if he’s going to add it to all the frames you left behind.

But then again, did he even put them up in his new apartment? From what you could see when you were in, there was no picture visible.

It aches, but then he tells you to smile and you do. You immediately do, because there’s nothing easier than smiling when you’re with him like this. The wariness still clings to him, but it’s barely visible, like a mirage that’s about to fade in the distance.

“Stop taking pictures of me,” you say as he takes another one.

He lets out a noncommittal sound, shrugging his shoulder. “Why?”

You pout as blush creeps on your cheek. “You haven’t taken this many pictures of me since… Chicago?”

He shakes his head. “I took more pictures on our first trip to Korea.”

A beautiful trip, where you’d met his family for the first time. You had gotten along with everyone well, even though your Korean was poor. You got better through the years, but you still have a long way before you can speak in Korean without feeling like everyone is going to judge you.

“That’s beside the point,” you mumble. You motion towards Bam, who’s patiently sitting next to you. “I’m pretty sure he’s done.”

Jungkook pouts, and butterflies take flight in your stomach. “Sorry,” he apologizes.

You’re not quite sure why.

“I just…” he adds, and then shadows cloud over his features. They resemble the sorrow that was surrounding him last weekend, and just like that you think summer has ended. “I haven’t used my camera since…”

You don’t need for him to say it, because you know exactly what he was going to say. Still, it hurts, and your gaze drops to the ground.

“Gosh,” you whisper. You let out a strangled sound. “I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just grabs your hand, raising it to his mouth to press a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

“We said we’d try,” he reminds you, or maybe he’s trying to remind himself. “Let’s try. For real. So no more apologies.”

“I feel like you deserve thousands of apologies and more,” you admit.

He kisses your forehead, and it’s against your skin that he whispers, “I just want us to move on from what happened.”

You nod, wrapping an arm around his waist to loosely hug him. Unfortunately, Bam pulls on his leash, and you have to let go of Jungkook far too quickly. Still, you meet his gaze, nodding your head again.

“I want to move on too,” you tell him. “If I could, I’d erase everything but…”

He holds out his hand for you to interlace your fingers with his. “But it’s in the past.”

He’s right, yet you see the wariness. It’s still there, though you think soon the mist will dissipate with the rays of the sun. So you follow him in, let him feed Bam before he shows you around his small apartment. It feels like him, in ways you can’t really describe, and you want to stay. You think, if he’d ask you’d never leave again.

“I like it,” you tell him as he finishes the tour in his bedroom, which is only occupied by an unmade bed with white sheet and a small night table with his pair of glasses on top. You notice the LED lights, and a smile moves to your lips. “Please tell me these still shine purple like they did at the house with the boys.”

Jungkook nods, offering you a grin. “Yeah. I thought it’d be great to have a… reminder of a simpler time.”

He turns them on, and you get it. You get it so much you grab the lapels of his jean jacket, pulling him closer to you. His lips are upon yours in an instant, hungry, insistent, ravishing a kiss that makes you light-headed. Especially as he grabs your face, holds on to it like it’s a life buoy in a storm. The piercings push into your bottom lip, their colder temperature making your tongue dart to them, as if to warm them.

Jungkook groans, and then kicks the door of his bedroom shut. He’s had to stop kissing you for that, but he’s kissing you again half a second later, and it’s even more intense, more desperate.

You let go of his jacket, hands blindly moving to his belt as he pushes his tongue in your mouth. You suck on it, moan lightly when he groans again. You fumble with the buckle, but soon enough you get it undone, and you move on to the button of his jeans.

You just want him. Need to feel his body against you, in you. And clearly he needs the same thing, as he pulls away from the hug to take your shirt off. Right as you get the button undone, and then unzip his jeans. You slip your hand in, letting out a breathy sound as you find him already hard. He sits heavy in your hand, and you squeeze him unabashedly.

“Fuck,” he curses, head thrown back as his eyes close. “Baby.”

The pet name has you drop to your knees, and you pull his pants down just enough for his dick to spring free. He doesn’t try to stop you, and you admire him for a time. Admire the brown base of his tip, the veins that run along his length. A bead of precum appears on his slit as you look, and you’re quick to lick it clean. The salty taste fills your mouth, and you look up at him, to see him watching down on you, strands of hair falling in his eyes where they’ve escaped the confines of his beanie.

“Suck it, mmh?” he says.

You grab him, jerking him off loosely. “Yeah?”

His eyes darken behind the strands of hair. He bites at his piercings, cocking his head to the side. And then he’s glancing away and to your surprise, he asks, “Can I take pictures of you while you suck my dick?”

You swirl your tongue around his tip, and he bucks his hips forward. In answer, you sit back on your heels, looking up at him innocently. “Right now?” He nods. “You want to take pictures of me while I suck your dick?”

“If you want to,” he answers. “If you don’t want to it’s fine.”

You close your lips around his tip, sucking once. “You’ll keep the pictures to yourself?”

You don’t know why you’re agreeing. Only know that the lust in Jungkook’s gaze is making you forget everything about common sense. But then again, you highly doubt that Jungkook would ever do anything to harm you.

Jungkook’s mouth falls open as he was about to answer, but when you take his dick as far as you can, he’s silenced. And he’s hard in your mouth, a rod of steel you’ve missed since last week.

“Yeah,” he finally breathes out.

You sit back on your heels. “Then it’s fine.”

He smirks, nodding his head as he finishes taking off his jeans and underwear. “Wait here.”

You purse your lips as he walks away, and you watch him leaving his room to head to where he left his camera. You patiently wait, feeling shy even though you have nothing to be shy about. This is just Jungkook – it’s not like he hasn’t seen you half-naked and on your knees for him before.

It takes him a moment to come back, but when he does, it’s to sit on bed. He’s still hard, and he leans back on a hand as you move closer.

“If you want me to stop, you tell me, okay?” he gently says as you run a hand along his thighs.

You glance at his scar, the familiar knot of skin giving you more confidence than you expected. “You’re going to jerk off to these pictures, mmh?”

He gulps, angling his camera towards you as you lean closer to his dick. You lick at it, and the shutter goes off.

It has you dripping in your panties, unexpectedly.

“So what if I do?” he asks as you grab his dick, stroking him.

The question is rhetorical, and your answer is to wrap your lips around his cock as your eyes flutter shut. You swirl your tongue around the tip and hollow your cheeks as you go down. You hold the gag reflex in as he hits the back of your throat, and you can’t help but moan as you hear his camera again.

You flick your tongue at his frenulum on the way out, and then you stroke his dick as you sit back. You move one hand to his balls, squeezing gently before thinking better of it and leaning forward, sucking on one. He grunts, and you keep your eyes locked on the camera as you jerk him off faster.

Another picture added to the list. And you’re dripping wet. Already you want to sink on his dick, want him to be so deep inside of you that you’re just one.

“Kook…” you murmur, and then you’re back to sucking on his dick, though this time you make sure to squeeze his balls too, the way that he likes it. Hard, but not too hard, and you’re choking around his dick in no time as he starts fucking up in your mouth, clearly forgetting about the pictures.

It goes like this for a while, with his dick growing impossibly hard. Your jaw aches by the time he pushes down on your head, hand lost in your hair. You gag, and he moans loudly. You think he’s coming, but he somehow manages to keep it in before pulling you off.

“Shit,” he curses. “Sorry.” He breathes for a moment, as you wipe your mouth and chin from the drool.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. You glance at the camera. “Any good pics?”

That brings him back to the land of lust and passion, and he offers you a smirk. “We can look at them after. I’m not done with you yet.”

You laugh, because you know you’ve barely started. Know you’re likely to be unable to walk tomorrow. Because the lust in his gaze hasn’t shone so bright in years, yes, but also because you almost lost each other.

Or maybe you have, and this too is just a dip in the past.

You stand up, hands snaking to your back so that you can unclasp your bra. Jungkook watches you carefully, before taking a picture as you massage your breasts. It makes you bite at your lower lip, and you look at his hard dick where it rests on his stomach.

“Can I ride you?” you ask breathlessly.

He smirks. “You don’t want me to finger you first?”

Instead of replying, you finish undressing, taking off your pants and panties at the same time. You then push on his jean jacket, and he takes that as a cue to remove it. You motion to the shirt too as he was about to lean back on his hand and he cocks his head to the side, an eyebrow raised. When you nod, he takes it off too, and it makes his beanie fall.

His hair is a mess, and you can’t resist but step forward so that you can push it back, though you think the jet black strands are currently untamable. You give up after a few seconds, pushing on his chest so that he lies back.

His eyes are on you as you climb on his lap, and you grind along his length, coating it with your juices.

“Shit,” he lets out again. “You’re fucking dripping.”

You nod, moving up just enough so that you can grab the base of his dick. His tip prods your entrance, and he pulls at his piercings as you wait there, teasing him with a corner smile on your lips.

“Fucking tease,” he growls.

It undoes something in you. Because yes, you wanted to tease him. You wanted him to beg you to fuck him, but now you sink down on him, until he reaches your cervix. Even the pain of him hitting the back of your pussy doesn’t make you move, and your walls clench around his dick as he grunts out a curse, followed by your name.

“Kook,” you purr. “Fuck me good.”

He chuckles as you circle your hips, and his free hand rests on your hip as he angles his camera to take a picture of you again. “You can’t do the work?”

He says it condescendingly, and you find enough challenge in you to start bouncing up and down. It shuts him up, and the following moment is spent with you fucking yourself on him as he groans under you, your breathy moans filling his room. Soon enough he stops taking pictures, putting his camera down next to him so that he can hold your hips with his two hands.

And then he’s fucking up in you, and you cry out as you lean forward, wrapping an arm around his neck while your other hand holds on to his shoulder.

You’re a mess, yet your heart clenches in your chest as he fucks you like this. As you remember a land of winter, that somehow doesn’t feel as distant as it should. Maybe because of Jungkook’s wariness tonight, or maybe because you know all good things come to an end.

The thought douses your arousal, until Jungkook stills deep inside of you and whispers, “I want to be with you, like this, forever.”

You nuzzle your face in his neck and suck a mark on his skin. “Me too.”

And then he’s fucking you again, hard and quick. He holds you close, grunts in your ear as you lick at his neck. It’s an abundance of sensation, and your brain focuses on the way he hits your clit whenever he pushes up. Whenever his hips snap against you, and soon there’s an orgasm in the distance.

It finds you when he lets you sit up so that you can fuck yourself on him again, and his thumb finds your clit to press expert circles on it. It finds you hard, and your pussy spasms repeatedly on his dick. He helps you through the high, and when you finally come down, a dumb smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

“Fuck,” you let out.

“Felt good?” he asks with a teasing tone to his voice, the one you know he only reserves for you.

To hear it right now makes you love him so much you think you’ll die on the spot. Because yes, tonight has been great. Yes, it’s almost been like before, but what if he doesn’t take you back?

What if, in the end, this was just an extended moment meant to be closure for you and him?

“Yes,” you still reply.

Because no matter how much your heart aches in your chest, you’ll never lie to him.

“Good,” he says. He sits up, wraps an arm around your waist to steady you as he brings his mouth to yours.

You go in for the kiss. Meet him halfway, and you moan against him as he moves under you, albeit clumsily from the position.

His lips will make you drunk. Make you dumb, make you forget that there’s a world outside the door. That, in that world, you might not belong to him anymore. But then again, you think you do. To you, you always will.

“Lie on your side,” he says after a moment, lips moving against yours.

Jungkook pecks your lips one last time before you move, and then he kneels behind you. His dick prods your entrance again, and he grabs his camera to snap another picture.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he praises as he pushes the tip in, taking another picture. “Such a good little fucking slut.”

And then he pushes all the way in, until all of him is embedded in you. You grip the sheets as a broken moan escapes your lips. He holds your hip with one hand, fingers digging in the supple skin as he fucks you hard, chasing his own orgasm.

He looks good doing it. Long hair sticking to the sweat on his face, eyes narrowed in pleasure, mouth open as soft grunts echo through the room. The purple light makes his honey skin glow somehow, and you feel another orgasm reaching for you, though it doesn’t hit right away. It just feels so good – as he always does – and you can’t help but clench your walls against him.

That’s what undoes him. He comes, ropes of white painting your insides, as he swears and says your name in a litany that almost makes you go over the edge too.

“Baby,” he says at the end.

It feels like a confirmation. Like a confirmation that, maybe, maybe you will work this time around. That maybe distance won’t destroy you again – maybe you’ll grow old and gray by his side.

“You came so much,” you say as you feel his hot cum sitting deep inside of you.

He pulls at his piercing, nodding once. And then he pulls out, and he takes a picture of the cum dripping out of you. He decides to push it back in, curling a finger inside of you, and your walls clench as you moan.

“Touch your clit,” he tells you.

You don’t need to be told twice. You quickly move your fingers to the sensitive bundle of nerves, drawing quick circles on it as he pushes another digit inside of you, fingering you until the second orgasm finally finds you.

You cry out his name, a broken plea that doesn’t really make any sense as your vision turns white. And it stays that way for a long time, blinding you until ecstasy is swimming in your blood. And when you come down from the high, all that you can think is how much you missed him.

“Kook,” you breathe out.

“Baby…”

He puts the camera away, and then bends to press a kiss on your lips. It’s soft, and you grab his face to hold him in place, not even wincing as a bead of his sweat rolls on your cheek. You kiss him with a heart heavy with emotions, trying to show him that you’re never going to leave again. When he pulls away, you notice his teary gaze.

“Can we be together again?” he asks, and you watch in horror as a tear rolls on his cheek. You sit up, drying it with your thumb.

And you don’t care if it was too quick. Don’t care that there’s a high chance it won’t last. You still answer, “Yes, Kook. Yes we can.”

He smiles, nodding his head. “Let’s take a shower. I want to hold you tonight.”

You want to cry from the statement, want to tell him that you wish he could hold you forever, but the words get lodged in your throat. Instead, you follow him as he gets up, interlacing your fingers with his as he leads you to the bathroom, uncaring that his seed is rolling down your inner thighs.

He turns the shower on, and soon enough you’re standing under the hot water. He watches you carefully, presses a kiss on your forehead when you stand in front of him. You wrap your arms around his waist, holding him as close as you physically can. Even then it’s not enough – you want him under your skin, or to be under his.

You don’t think you’d survive being parted from him again. Maybe that’s why you let him fuck you again when you return to his room, slower this time, lips entwined in a never-ending embrace. Love flows between you and him, and it’s etched in the way your bodies move together, in the way you’ve been molded perfectly for him, and him for you.

You wonder if outside, the stars are shining. And you’re struck thinking that tonight, tonight they’ve aligned for you and him again, the universe agreeing for this second chance between you and him.

So you hold him close, and pray that this time around, forever is waiting for you.

Saturday, September 9th

Jungkook wakes up slowly. Softly, the same way waves hit the shore at low tide. He’s unusually warm, and he frowns as he shifts, trying to turn on his side. Then, he realizes his arm is stuck under something. His very dead arm, and he cracks an eye open.

That’s when he remembers that it’s you. You’re the one sleeping next to him, mouth slightly agape as you breathe softly. You’re also the one crushing his arm, and he tentatively clenches and unclenches his fist to try to get the blood circulation back on track. It doesn’t really work, so then he stops, figuring he’s going to have to make you move somehow.

But you look peaceful, in the light of the rising sun. Serene, like there’s never been anything wrong in this world. This morning, Jungkook wants to believe it. Wants to believe that happiness is all he’s ever known – that accidents, heartbreak and pain are all constructs of his imagination.

He’s too realistic for that. Or perhaps the breakup has made him pessimistic. Because the peace of the moment doesn’t really linger, and he’s stuck reliving the moment you left, that night in May. Stuck reliving the wait for you to come back, only you never did.

Or maybe you did, months later. Maybe you really are back, and this time you’ll stay.

You mumble something in your sleep, startling him. It takes him a few seconds to realize you’re still deep asleep, but when you move he quickly does too, pulling his arm from under your head. You frown, lick your lips, and then your features smooth out as you return to your peaceful slumber.

He turns on his side, watching you carefully. He’s aware that watching you sleep is creepy, but he can’t help it. Not when his bed has been empty for months.

He stays like this for a while, unable to fall back asleep. Because, what if you’re gone when he wakes up again? He doesn’t want to risk it.

Unable to help himself, he gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. You sigh, and he’s afraid he’s woken you up. When a small smile appears on your lips, his heart skips a beat, yet you don’t show any other sign that you’re awake. He assumes you aren’t, and then decide to take a picture of this moment.

He feels like he’s going to need it. Like all the pictures he took yesterday – he was desperate to commit to memory as much of you as he possibly could. He feels bad – he said he’d give you a chance, he is giving you a chance, but some part of him is just waiting for it to blow up in his face.

Maybe if he expects it it will hurt less.

He carefully grabs his camera where he left it on his night table. He doesn’t dare take a look at the pictures you took yesterday, a little ashamed that he asked you to do that in the first place. Silently, he takes a picture of you, and then puts the camera away.

Only, the reminder of the kind of pictures he’d find in the camera was enough to make his blood stir, and he picks it back up almost immediately.

And then there you are, in all your glory. Beautiful as ever, pussy filled to the brim with his cum, with his cock. Tits squeezed in your hands, in his, and his dick goes rock hard as blood leaves his head.

He wants you again, and he wants you now. He doesn’t care that it’s early morning, that he never liked waking up early. All he can do is put the camera down and slide closer to you. He pulls you back into his embrace, and you sigh softly as he wraps his arms around you.

Jungkook holds you tighter, nuzzling his face in your hair. The inebriating scent of your shampoo fills his nose, and his dick twitches in his underwear.

You hum, and he holds you tighter. “Morning,” he says, voice low and gravelly.

You make another sound that can pass as a hum, but you move against him, until you’ve wrapped an arm around his middle. There’s a moment where silence reigns again, and Jungkook is afraid you’ve fallen back asleep, but then you say, “Morning.”

He smiles. “Slept well?” he asks, kissing the top of your head.

He’s convinced you’re smiling against him as you say, “Want to sleep more.”

He whines, which earns him a chuckle from you that makes the wariness settle back in, even as his heart feels full in his chest.

It never felt full without you. Another reason why he needs to be ready for the blow, whenever it comes.

“I want you,” he admits. “Can’t sleep.”

You hum again, and your hand slides down his back. You squeeze his ass, and then move the hand back up. “You’re going to have to try.”

He whines, lips jutting out in a pout. “Boring.”

At that you laugh, pushing him slightly until you’re able to look him in the eye. He keeps the pout on, knowing that it always worked with you before.

“It’s not even morning,” you point out.

“The sun is up.”

You roll your eyes, though your lips are curved upwards, your gaze beaming as you hold his. “We fucked twice last night.”

He shrugs, rolling on his back so that he can stare up at the ceiling. He pulls at his piercing, the new one, and then turns his head towards you again. “Yeah, and?”

“Surely you don’t need to fuck right now,” you tease.

He frowns, looking away again. “Not my fault if I haven’t fucked since… May. Last weekend doesn’t count.”

“I’m pretty sure it does,” you say, laughing lightly. You prop yourself up on an elbow, blinking away the tiredness as you meet his gaze again. “And besides,” you pause, features turning confused as a crease appears between your brows. “Haven’t you fucked while we were…” you trail off, motioning vaguely around you.

And then something occurs to Jungkook. Something bad – maybe the explosion was closer than he expected it to be. Maybe he’s been standing in the radius of impact, waiting for the bomb to go off. And maybe your sleep deprived brain forgot the measure of protection, maybe it forgot he was standing there.

Because your eyes go round with fear, right as a drop of lead solidifies in Jungkook’s stomach.

“What?” he lets out.

What a stupid question to ask. He wants to beat himself up, because he knows.

He knows now that you’ve been with someone else. Why else would you be surprised that he hasn’t?

“I’m just saying…” you try, but it’s too late.

The bomb has gone off, and all that’s left is rumbles.

“Get out,” Jungkook says, and somehow it’s lacking bite. It’s lacking anger, lacking any signs that he cares for you.

It surprises even himself – doesn’t he care? Or is there nothing left of him in the aftermath of the explosion?

“Kook.”

“You’ve fucked someone else,” he states. When you don’t say anything, just watch him in horror, he sits up in bed. “Get out.”

“Come on,” you let out this time, following him up. You wrap yourself in the blanket, his blanket, and he wants to rip it from your body. Doesn’t want anything that’s his to be in contact with you anymore. “It didn’t mean anything,” you say, and you’re suddenly blinking back tears. “It was just one-time.”

“Frankly, I don’t want to know,” Jungkook says, and he really doesn’t. Doesn’t want to think about another man’s hand on you, or he’ll break.

He’s done breaking for you.

You don’t fight the tears, as you understand that the end really has come. At least that’s what he thinks happens – you just sit there, gaze heavy with tears until they fall, little droplets that carry a world of regret.

After all, the distance really was enough to break you up, wasn’t it?

Jungkook watches you, surprised that his heart is not clenching in his chest. No, he feels nothing as he watches you – he’s already cried enough for you.

“We were broken up,” you murmur, holding his gaze. “It’s not like I cheated.”

At that he laughs, shaking his head. If you can’t understand that he’s done, that he doesn’t want to have anything to do with you anymore, then he’ll do it the harsh way.

“I don’t give a fuck,” he says. “I couldn’t be with someone else. I tried, and you were all I could think of. And…”

“You tried!” you interject. “You tried and you’re giving me shit for it?”

He gets up, trying to put distance between you and him, as if that’ll make the fight easier.

“I still chose not to do it,” he coldly states. “The girl was willing, she even kissed me and…”

“You kissed someone else?”

He laughs again, the absurdity of the situation dawning upon him. “Yeah? Tae set me up on a date, and the girl kissed me at the end and I told her I couldn’t. I didn’t fuck someone else.”

The way he’s throwing the blame at you feels selfish, especially as more tears join those already sliding down your cheeks.

“How is that fair, that you’re mad at me when you literally went on a date with someone else?” You pause, choking on a sob as you try to dry your cheeks. “Come on, Kook, it meant nothing.”

“Who did you fuck anyway?” he asks.

For a reason unknown, your tears stop. Entirely, there a moment and gone the next. “Why do you want to know?”

He doesn’t. He doesn’t fucking want to know, and he scoffs as he runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the strands. “Get out,” he says again, still as stern and void of emotion.

“It was Harrison,” you still say. “I switched departments because I didn’t want to see him again after that.”

Now, there’s an inkling of pain tickling the carcass of his dead heart. As if there was still more, for him to feel, even after everything. As if pain is but a constant of his life now, and he thinks maybe it is.

“Your colleague?” he repeats, dumbfounded.

He’s met Harrison a couple of times, throughout your relationship. He’s always thought the guy was decent, but now something very ugly settles deep in his core. Something that tells him, ‘Hey, maybe he’s only ever wanted to fuck her, maybe he was waiting for his chance’.

The words are on a loop in his head, and he doesn’t even think he can see you anymore. All that he sees is Harrison with his hands on you, in his ever-too creative mind.

He startles as you put a hand on his arm. He shrugs your grip off, steps away from you. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Kook, I swear, please listen to me,” you beg, and now you’re crying again.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to.” At that he shuts his eyes, runs a hand on his forehead and then through his hair. “I really don’t want to. I don’t want you to be here anymore.”

“It didn’t mean anything,” you say, an echo of something you said earlier. Though this time you say it differently, as if you too sensed the finality in Jungkook’s tone.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever want you to be around anymore. He was stupid to give you a chance after you broke his heart – you chose to break up, months ago. Why would it be different this time around?

“It doesn’t matter,” he tells you, as softly as he can. Because he knows you’ll break even more, and some dark, twisted part of him is satisfied that this time, this time he’s the one with all the power over you. “I’m done, Y/n.”

The words sound like thunder, in all their calmness. In all their softness – or maybe that was the sound of your heart breaking. Whatever it was, Jungkook really is done. He wants you gone, wants to be able to break in the quiet peace of his home.

A home you aren’t a part of anymore.

You nod. He expects you to fight more, but you nod. Choke out a sob, turn around, and start putting your clothes on. He figures he should dress too, so he does, picking up discarded items of clothing on the floor, not caring that they probably aren’t clean. All that he cares about is to get you out of his apartment, out of his sight.

And when you’re ready, he walks you to the front door. Lets you say goodbye to Bam, a crushing parallel to the time you’ve said goodbye in May. Bam still looks confused, and Jungkook feels bad, for a moment. Because you were the dog’s mother – he’s been looking for you ever since May. Jungkook can only hope that, this time around, Bam understands that it’s farewell.

When you straighten, you mutter an apology. Jungkook ignores it, holds your gaze expecting something to hurt, but he’s just empty. Empty and tired, and all he wants is to go back to sleep and to never wake up again.

“I can’t let you go,” you let out, voice stark with pain.

He shrugs. “You should have realized that in May.”

You close your eyes, and you look so fragile. Like glass – it never survives the shockwave of an explosion, doesn’t it?

“Please,” you beg. “Let me make it up to you.”

He laughs bitterly. “How? You’re going to go back in time and not get fucked by him? You’re going to go back in time and not break up?”

You look like you want to curse him, and he almost wants you to. He wants you to fight, wants you to make him feel something other than this emptiness. Instead, you shake even more, sobs racking through you.

“I wish I could.”

“Leave.”

“Jungkook, I swear,” you insist. “Let’s not lose each other over this.”

He wets his lips, tongue pushing in the inside of his cheek next. “We’ve lost each other already. It’s time we realize that we have.”

And that does it. You fall silent, defeat washing over you like a tsunami wave – there’s nothing left after its passage, and you look tired, sick, standing there right next to the door.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize again.

He shrugs. “It’s whatever. The past is the past.”

You look like you want to say something else, but somehow you remain silent. Somehow you look at him for a time, bloodshot eyes taking in his features as if it’s the last time you’ll ever see him again. He surprises himself by doing it too, mostly by instinct. Because right now, looking at you makes him want to be sick, but he knows that it won’t last.

He knows that the echo of pain in the distance is a good indicator that he still has it in him to break for you. That he’ll break for you forever, perhaps. Because he doesn’t think that there’s an end to you and him. It’s always going to be a cycle, and it’ll never end well.

“Goodbye, Jungkook,” you murmur.

He offers you a tight-lipped smile. “Goodbye.”

All he can do is hope you know it means farewell.

Thursday, October 5th

You used to love fall. The cooler weather, the long walks that smell like soil and fallen leaves and pumpkins. Nowadays, you hate fall.

You hate it because he loved it, and every reminder of him is poison to you. And though the season is still early, the days are getting shorter, and the longer the night, the more you drown in thoughts.

You haven’t slept in weeks. Have barely eaten too, and you’ve been off from work for a week. It’s allowed you to stay in, to just sit and try to breathe, hoping that it’ll help.

That it’ll fix something that’s never going to be fixed.

You’re lost. Lost in a town that used to be your home, lost in memories that used to be beauty brought to life – now, you’re seeing the ugliness in beauty. Because beauty is temporary, and like all temporary things in life it doesn’t last long enough. Beauty, and the ending temporality of it, leaves nothing when it goes but a bitter taste in mouth.

Perhaps that’s why you haven’t been able to eat properly.

You haven’t spoken to anyone, since the early morning he asked you to leave. Yet for some reason, you’ve felt the need to go outside today. To walk around, aimlessly perhaps, but you couldn’t stay inside a second longer. Too many tears were shed in your apartment, and you hoped the cool weather would help you feel better.

It does, a little. Because you feel like you’re breathing him in every time you inhale, and then carry him out on an exhale. You feel close to him, in a distant way that’s bound to only make you break harder tonight, but right now you can’t bring yourself to care. You do hate the reminders of him, but you need them. Viscerally, as he was the oxygen in your lungs for so long.

You’re going to have to learn how to live without him, one step at a time.

So you take another step, let your instinct carry you where you have to go. Maybe it knows how to heal.

The sun is descending in the sky, and the absence of clouds lead to a sea of azure you’d swim in if you could. You’d soar up high, so high that there isn’t oxygen anymore, and maybe then the pain would cease. You’d ride a sunray into the night, where you’d finally be able to fall into a well-deserved slumber.

As you look up, a tiny bird flies across the sky, a small speck of brown that goes so fast you think you imagine it. Like the years with him – they went by so quickly, the crushing wheel of time spinning down the slope towards the end.

Seven years ago, almost to the day, you kissed him on a hotel roof lost in Chicago, under clouds painted with fire. Who knew seven years later you’d be trying to live without him, clearly failing at it.

You sigh, pushing the thought away as you reach a crossing. You wait for the light to turn green, then follow the parallel white lines across the road. You avoid a pile of leaves, though a strong gust of wind makes some of them swirl around you, spinning like Mother Nature’s tiny dancers.

The foliage in the trees along the street is golden and red, bright colours that look out of place in the bleakness of your heart. You follow them, wonder if they know that they are about to die. The answer is one you’ll never have, and so you walk under the trees, the autumn breeze playing with your hair.

You don’t know where your steps have been carrying you. You’ve long gone past the places you usually go to, heading towards the middle of the city. The no man’s land between you and Jungkook, spread wide in a maze of streets you want to get lost in.

So you do. You press on, walk until the sun becomes a ball of melted gold nearing the horizon, and it’s on the corner of a street that a glint in a vitrine catches your eyes.

You eye the rings, crafted by an expert hand. Bands of gold, with diamonds and emeralds and gems you don’t know the name of. They look expensive, elegant, and you wonder if you would have had a ring on your finger one day, bought by him.

Recklessly, you walk into the shop, wishing to peruse its vitrines, hoping they’ll offer you dreams to survive the night. And you can almost see it – a ring on your finger, a proposal under a star-sprinkled sky, an intimate wedding for you and him. A dance, always and forever, of love shared like a secret in the night. Your secret, as the end would have one day come for you and him, an eternity of life later. You would have been old and grey, yet your love would have been young and eternal.

In this dream, he would have never taken the job overseas. You’d have stayed here, together, growing old by his side. You would have gotten more dogs, maybe even a cat, and you’d have lived happily ever after.

You wonder if, in a parallel universe to yours, the dream is unfolding. If parallel-universe you has the chance to experience it, and you think she does. You think she does, and the love is so strong it’s shaking through universes, picking you up like you’re just a leaf in an autumn wind.

Because why else, then, do you find yourself buying a gold band? Too big for you, masculine in its simplicity. Something you think he would have worn, had you been in that other universe.

You sit on a bench outside, after, as the last of the sunlight finally fades away, replaced by a blue dusk that matches your mood far better than the sun ever could. You have no idea where you are in the city, no will to brave the trek back home – you’ve been out for hours at this point.

You grab your phone, long forgotten in your purse. You haven’t touched it all day, and to your surprise you’ve received a couple of texts while you were walking, all by the same person.

[04:37 pm] Jimin: hey, this is going to sound crazy [04:37 pm] Jimin: and I’m really sorry to be telling u this [04:37 pm] Jimin: can u go check on JK? [04:38 pm] Jimin: he’s been unreachable for days and at this point I think he’ll only talk to u

You want to text him back to fuck off, to leave you alone, yet you hold on tighter to the velvety box in which the gold band hides. After all, even if you’ve received the texts hours ago, you’re realizing perhaps that that’s where your steps have been leading you anyway.

It’s stupid – he asked you to leave. Hasn’t contacted you once since then, and it’s like the wedding and the week after never happened. Like you’ve been broken up for months, like you barely know him anymore. He’s a stranger now, in your life, something you’d never thought he’d become someday.

And why would he talk to you? Why would he want you in his vicinity, when he made it clear as spring water that he was done, that the end had come to pass between you and him?

But if the end has come, why is that you’ve been feeling like you’re surrounded by him, today? Like you’ll always be – just a drop of water in the sea of him. Perhaps you are weak, to feel for him the way that you do, but seven years ago, the cataclysm that started you and him shook you, and its repercussions are still felt today. Will be felt until your dying breath, until all that’s left of you is stardust.

So you let your feet carry you, weightless in the way that you’re moving forward. Like you are once again but a leaf carried by the wind, and you can only hope that it’ll let you land in the right place.

You don’t really know how you make it to his building. Perhaps you were closer than you initially thought you were – all that you know is that you recognize the building, and that you sense his proximity through the walls.

Your heart reaches for him, longs for him in a way you can’t ignore anymore. Because you’ve been dead, without him. Just a shell of what you should be, of what you want to be. Because yes, you could learn to live without him. After everything that you’ve been through, you know well enough that you are strong enough to do it.

But you don’t want it. You want that dream you’ve found in the jewelry shop, want to make it possible. Want to prove that, no matter who would ever get close to you, he’ll always be the owner of your heart.

So you walk in. Reach the elevator, press on the call button. Then on the fourth floor, reminiscing the night you rode the elevator in his company, right before the fall. The new fall, a harshest one that made you reach those low levels of hell that living without him are consisted of.

You awaken when you are standing in front of his door. You think you can almost hear him inside, moving around through his home. You wonder if he can hear your heartbeat, where you’re standing. If he too can tell that you’re nearby once again, even though you shouldn’t have been.

Even though farewells have come to pass between you and him.

You don’t knock. You don’t have to. To your surprise, the door opens in front of you, slowly, before you’ve even managed to raise your arm to knock. Then his voice fills your ear, as he tells Bam to wait. You just stand there, dumbfounded, and then his eyes move from the floor to your face, and his mouth falls open.

Bam jumps on you, tail wagging wildly as you take a step back from the force of impact. You pet him on the head, pushing him back to the floor as you try to focus on Jungkook.

And then it dawns upon you that you have no clue what to tell him. You reckon you maybe should have prepared something in advance, because you’re wordless standing in front of him.

“Hey,” you eventually say, and you think the world has time to revolve around the sun three times before you manage to say something else. “How are you?”

His mouth slowly shuts, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. He pulls on Bam’s leash, tells the dog to sit, before he finally addresses you. Just your name, and the way he says it make it sound formal, like you’re just a stranger.

“What are you doing here?” he asks after another moment.

You look down at your hands. At the box you’re holding, and his eyes follow after you. “I was thinking of you, today,” you admit.

He sighs, and his eyes shut. “You were?”

You nod as he meets your gaze again. “When am I not?” Your comment doesn’t ask for a response, and he doesn’t offer you one either. “Jimin told me you’ve been unreachable.”

“Yeah,” he lets out. “I’ve been busy.”

“Oh.” You try to look behind him, as if you’ll find his reason to be busy there. “Can I talk to you?”

He says your name, this time like an apology. “I told you we were done.”

You shrug. “I know.” You gulp, fingers playing with the velvet box as if it’ll help ground you. “Can I walk Bam with you, then?”

He looks conflicted but he gives in. Says yes in a defeated way that rips your heart from your chest, in a way that makes you cling to the ring box even more, hoping that it’ll offer you salvation.

Being outside in the early fall evening with him feels like the Earth has finally returned to its normal axis. You don’t say anything, unable to find the words, and he remains silent too. You just enjoy his company, watching over Bam as he sniffs at plants before peeing on a pole.

Stars are twinkling in the sky up above. The breeze is still soft tonight, caressing your features in a gentle embrace that resembles the one he’d used to offer you, though it’s far colder than his. You spare a glance at him – he’s already looking, and he doesn’t look away as your gazes connect.

“What are you doing here?” he asks again.

You wet your lips. “I don’t know,” you admit. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

“How is that an explanation?” A shrug of your shoulders is all the answer he gets. He scoffs, shakes his head slightly, and then his head turns toward the door of his building. “I have hot chocolate inside,” he tells you, once again sounding defeated. “Do you want a cup?”

Turns out salvation wasn’t to be found in the velvet box you’re holding, but in the gentle angles of Jungkook’s features, behind his big doe eyes that will forever feel like home to you.

“I don’t want to intrude,” you tell him, voice soft. “I just wanted to… talk.”

“Then let’s talk over a cup of hot chocolate,” he says.

Which is what you do. You follow him in, feeling like you’re out of place in his life. Like he’s only giving this to you because of what you used to be to one another. Yet you don’t care. You’re slowly finding words, your brain shaping them into sentences to change an ending you can’t come to terms with.

Jungkook prepares the hot chocolate in silence, as you sit at his small dinner table. You play with Bam as he does so, a game of tug-of-war that you’re bound to lose as the dog is far stronger than you. Yet you still indulge, as you’ve missed Bam far more than you even thought possible.

The game is only interrupted when Jungkook rests a cup of steaming hot chocolate on the table next to you. You let Bam go, and the dog trots away to go play somewhere else, you can only assume.

“What did you want to talk about?”

You’ve left the ring box on the table. You’ve noticed Jungkook glancing at it repeatedly since you’ve put it there, and you worry at your bottom lip.

“I wanted to apologize again, for what it’s worth,” you answer. “I felt horrible when it happened, and just wanted to forget all about it.”

His features turn harsh, and his eyes drop into the cup of hot chocolate he’s nursing for himself. It reminds you of a café, of a conversation you had years ago, that led to you opening up to him, and to him opening up to you.

“I love you,” you continue. “I haven’t stopped loving you, and if I’d known that breaking up would hurt so much, I would’ve fought harder. I wish I had, and I wish I’d never let you go.”

“But you did…” he says when you remain silent for a few seconds.

“But I did. And I understand if you hate me for it. If you don’t want to ever see me again. But shit, you’re the only thing that I’ve been able to think about. Just you, and everything that could have been, had I been stronger.”

You grab the cup of hot chocolate, the warmth of it slowly seeping through your cold fingers. For the next few minutes, you don’t say anything, and neither does he. You just drink the hot chocolate, hoping you’ll find more words to say at the bottom of the cup.

“The distance was hard,” Jungkook eventually says. “I don’t blame you for wanting to end things over it.”

It surprises you. Makes your brain go entirely empty, and you just watch him with wide eyes for a few seconds.

He shrugs as you don’t say anything. “What?” He looks down, tongue darting out to play with his piercings. “I’ve been thinking about everything too.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “I over-reacted, when you told me you had sex with Harrison,” he admits.

Totally not expecting the conversation to take this turn, you’re stunned silent.

“I was shocked, and needed time to process,” he continues. “You were right, the fact that I went on a full-on date is just as bad, differently. We were broken up, we didn’t owe each other anything.”

As much as it pains you to agree, you still do, nodding your head. “We didn’t.”

He purses his lips, holds your gaze for a few seconds before glancing down at his cup. The silence is more comfortable now, as you think maybe, maybe then the dream you’ve dreamed about isn’t just a distant mirage of what could have once been. It’s foolish, but you can’t help it.

You think your heart is beating for the first time since you left that morning weeks ago.

“Did you want to speak about anything else?” he asks after he’s taken a long sip of his hot chocolate.

You take a deep breath, and somehow courage finds you on the long exhale. “I don’t want us to be over.”

You think you hear him gulp. “You don’t?”

Blinking away a few tears, you shake your head no. “I really don’t. I walked around all day today, and all I could think about was you. All I could think of was all the years between us, from when we met to a few weeks ago. And I don’t know, I refuse to accept that the end has come.”

“When does it come, then?” he asks.

“When the end comes?”

He nods.

“After years and years,” you say, allowing yourself to voice your dream. “Hopefully after we’ve had years to live together. After we’ve gotten married, and maybe even after we’ve had kids. Not that I want some.” You pause, and you look down at the table, unable to carry the weight of his gaze anymore. “Or maybe after we’ve had plenty of dogs, a cat or two. After we’ve had a house with a white picket fence, after we’ve danced under a thousand different night skies.” A tear rolls on your cheek, and you do nothing to stop it. “After we’ve travelled the world together, after we’ve had a chance to live, together.”

“And what happens after we’ve lived together?” he presses.

You shrug. “Then we die together. Then we turn into stardust and memories. I don’t care. As long as it’s with you, I don’t care what happens to me.”

Blurry behind the wall of tears in your eyes, you see Jungkook run a hand through his hair. “You don’t?”

“I don’t,” you echo. “I just want to get to love you.”

At that you do cry. And not just a little bit. Your heart longs and yearns for him, reaching in the space between you, trying to find a beat to sync with. You wipe your cheeks dry with trembling hands, before pressing the heel of your palms on your eyes, hoping to stop the cascade at the source.

“It’s a nice dream,” Jungkook says after the few minutes it takes you to collect yourself, your hands falling to the table.

“Is it?”

He nods. “Yeah. I don’t think we’d do a white picket fence though. I’ve always found cedar trees make a better fence.”

Something stirs inside of you, and you want to take a hold of him, and to never let go. “Yeah?”

He sits back in the chair, looks up to the ceiling as he blinks away the silver in his own gaze. You wonder if he’s crying because he saw you cry, as the sympathetic crier that he is, or because he shares the emotions in your heart.

“Where would you want to get married?” he asks then.

You push the velvet box towards him. “This is for you.”

He doesn’t acknowledge this, instead repeating the question.

“Somewhere in the countryside,” you answer. “Maybe the cottage where it all started.” You think about Julys of a world ago. “Under the night sky.”

“People don’t usually get married when it’s already dark.”

“Right,” you let out. “Then we’d have a ceremony for just us two when it’s dark outside.”

At that he grabs the box, opening it. You reckon he must have known what the content was, because he doesn’t say anything as he takes it out. As he tries to put it on his finger, though it doesn’t fit. It’s too tight, and it makes him chuckle, a sad sound that almost kills you on the spot.

“Do you think we’d dance under the stars?” he asks as he turns the gold band in his fingers, and light glimmers on it.

“Yes,” you say, nodding your head. “We always would.”

“So you came all the way here to tell me this?”

He meets your gaze again, for the first time in a while. He looks struck with emotion, much like you feel – the depths of his eyes are swirling with love and ache and yearning. You fall forward, fall in his eyes, trying to find home again.

“I came here to ask you to marry me,” you finally say, as it dawns upon you that, yes, your steps were leading you to this all along. “Jungkook, will you marry me?”

He smiles, a world of sadness etched in the sweet curve of his lips. “Can it be this easy?”

You shut your eyes. “It can. Please. Let’s not lose what we have again.”

“When would you like to get married?” he asks.

“Are you saying yes?”

He plays with his piercing, takes a deep breath as he chases tears away from his gaze but to no avail. You watch the two drops as they slowly roll down his face. “When would you like to get married?”

“In July,” you answer easily.

“Next year?”

You nod.

He holds your gaze for a few seconds more, then looks at the gold band again. His fist closes around it, slowly, as if he’ll be able to crush it in his hold. For what you don’t know. All that you know is that his features grow tortured, pained. It doesn’t last long – another deep breath later the expression is gone.

“I need to tell you something,” he says then, his voice so small you can barely hear it.

You prepare yourself. As well as you can, expecting the blow before it comes. You sense it – in the eternity it takes for him to speak again, you see every moment of you and him before this day, your life flashing before your eyes as if you’re about to die.

And then he says it a first time. At first you don’t even understand the words, as if he’s speaking a foreign language. So you let out, “What?”, hoping that it will change the cruelty that this world holds.

But nothing can, after the end has come. Nothing, especially not as he repeats the words, softly, their meaning tainting the dream you’ve just painted with him, until all that’s left of it is a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

“I’m permanently moving to South Korea.”

Prev | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

I'm sorry for the angst, for the cliffhanger, for them to be so stubborn and for how life is working against them now. I hope you don't hate me too much after this :') let me know what you think of this chapter!

Taglist: (add yourself to the taglist here) (strike-through means dumblr isn't letting me tag you):

457 notes · View notes

lace-coffin · 4 months

Note

Hello! Could you please write something about The Collector (Asa Emory) who falls madly in love with fem!reader who lives a very lonely life? At first the man begins to stalk the reader, but one day he still decides to kidnap her and brings her to his den in order to give her a happy life that she truly deserves. Thank you so much!🦋🌺💖

Asa Emory x lonely!fem!reader

Requests are open!

I really hope you like this! Thank you a bunch for the request I love writing for this silly little guy !

You could try convince yourself that your life wasn’t mundane but…let’s be honest. It’s the same in and out, wake up, drag yourself to uni running on a cup of shitty instant coffee, try keep your eyes open and focus on said lecture, grab something quick to eat on the way home and then rot in bed until it’s time to sleep and start the cycle all over again.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have any friends, well not many but that’s beyond the point. You just don’t see each other much, always busy with university or work, god knows you don’t have the energy to meet up on your free days anyway. Keeping up relationships was always a struggle for you and it felt easier to just quietly drift.

Despite this you still get lonely, it can be an isolating existence when the only people you interact with daily are your lecturer and maybe the shop staff. Unfortunately narrating to yourself at home doesn’t count as company.

Little did you know that your lecturer had taken interest in you, he didn’t really have reason to in your mind, but to Asa you were different, reclusive and usually quiet, didn’t answer many questions but usually knew the answers when asked.

You stood out to him despite your best efforts to blend into the background noise of the class. Asa loves to dissect people like you, he finds there’s often more under the surface than you expect, maybe a reason for their timidness, or an unexpected shady social life. This is why Asa is currently keeping a good distance between you as you go about your day, lurking just far enough as not to raise suspicion but close enough to study you like a bug under a lens.

This was not the case for you. Asa couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, instead of some shady back alley business or home drama he just witnessed a depressingly mundane day. Maybe you would meet a friend after uni? Maybe you would come home to a lover? Maybe you would have a fun hobby? None of those things.

Asa watched through the blinds as you sling a microwave meal in and slouch at the table, resting your head on the cheap wooden surface and groaning in defeat. To be honest Asa was bored out of his mind, having been trailing you for the entire evening and witnessing nothing of interest. After you lay in bed and start having some kind of breakdown, Asa thinks he’s seen enough, deciding to leave.

Later in the evening Asa can’t stop wondering about you, surely you can’t be content living like that, a young women like you should be in your prime years, eating at cute cafe’s with your friends and partying on the weekends, right? At least that’s what Asa thinks the 20 somethings are doing these days, he’s to old for this.

This won’t do, it’s not like you’re an unpleasant person, always an angel in his lectures but keeping to yourself, the way you move to put your hand up to answer questions but pull it back in shyness is endearing to Asa. Sometimes he asks you anyway because he feels you deserve to be heard.

After a few weeks and a couple more days of watching you, you wake up contorted into a box. Fantastic. You go through the motions as all captives do, the hysterics, crying, pleading, fighting and bolting. Usually this part is the most inconvenient for Asa. He’s never threatened by it, knowing well that he’s the one in control. With you he can’t help but want to coo and tell you everything will be ok if you’re good for him. Maybe he’s getting soft. Or maybe you just have that effect on him.

Time passes, a few months maybe, and things are better. Your body has softened out a little from your masters insistence on you eating good balanced food, a healthy glow in your cheeks and a little extra fat on your curves. You still attend lectures at the uni only now you’re arriving with Asa and parting ways until class starts, not wanting to raise any suspicion. It turns out it’s a lot more helpful to just have your tutor at home if you get stuck with work, Asa loves teaching you anyway, getting to talk about his special interest to his favourite pet? Beautiful.

On your free days you visit restaurants and events together, the way your face lights up when you try a new yummy food or find a cute trinket tugs at your owner’s heart. Sometimes you think about how you could just run now and not look back, easily lost in the sea of people at the market, however the idea no longer appeals like it did months ago. Given the choice you wouldn’t want to leave anyway, tied to your master so deeply by now. Call it love or Stockholm syndrome, you don’t care anymore, your days finally feel more like a new opportunity and not a burden. You look forward to weekends again, Asa jokes an old man like him isn’t the best company but you wouldn’t want to spend the time with anyone else.

This is how it should be, how it should’ve always been. Asa thinks, as he unclasps your collar for the night. enjoying the pleasant hum you let out as he massages your neckline, rubbing his coarse hands over it gently, tracing the faint red lines the display of his ownership left behind. “Let’s get you to bed cricket” Asa says softly, scooping you up and depositing you onto your shared king bed. You waste no time in snuggling into his soft fuzzy tummy once he’s stripped off his day clothes and settled into bed. With one last chaste kiss to the forehead Asa leans over and turns off the lamp, draping his arms over you. “Goodnight cricket, I love you” “night sir, love u” you mumble back, already half asleep.

#slashers #slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #asa emory #asa emory x reader #the collection #writing #my writing #slasher fucker #slasher horror #slasher hcs

160 notes · View notes

justagalwhowrites · 7 months

Note

HI BESTIE !!! 🫂

i was wondering how Joel would react to Doc spoiling him ROTTEN after she got that big girl money 🫦 (in the lavender au)

(because i know she will spoil him so much as a thank you for his unwavering support throughout her career 🥹)

OMG Hi Bestie!

I love this ask so so SO much. Joel is so soft with his girls and he deserves all the good things, including his wife treating him to all the best things once she's a big time surgeon.

This is just the perfect prompt for our favorite man's birthday, too! I hope this is just what you were hoping for. Love you!

Spoiled

After years of Joel taking care of you, you take care of Joel. A one shot set in the Lavender AU timeline.

Yes I know it's not a Joel gif but it fits the fic so well I had to.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (Joel and Doc from the Lavender AU)

Warnings: Fluff and smut, smut and fluff. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 4.4K

It started with a shopping trip in Houston for Sarah’s wedding.

She needed a dress for the rehearsal and her bachelorette party and the malls in Austin just weren’t cutting it.

“I’m telling you,” she said after coming up empty handed on another Saturday spent shopping as the two of you ate salads and drank sweet tea at a patio cafe. “We need to go to Houston. We haven’t found anything for you, either.”

“I can just…” you began, but Sarah cut you off.

“Mom,” she raised her brows. “You do not get to say ‘just’ anything about my wedding, come on.”

You rolled your eyes a little but smiled.

“Alright,” you put your hands up in surrender. “I’ve got the weekend off again in two weeks, I’ll get us a hotel room in Houston and we can shop til we drop.”

“I’m going to get you comfortable with spending some of those big surgeon bucks one of these days,” she said. “You need to treat yourself! Live a little!”

“I live plenty, thank you,” you replied. “And I do it just fine in my Goodwill jeans.”

“Whatever you say,” she smirked a little, flagging down the server and grabbing the bill before you had a chance to fight her on it.

Sarah might have had a point. You’d been an attending for the better part of a year now and the jump in pay had been staggering. You were making more now in a year than you had your entire life - or it felt that way, anyway. You’d already made good progress paying off your student loans but you made quick work of the rest. Joel had asked if you wanted to move - something bigger or better somehow - now that you could easily afford it but you’d just frowned at him, almost hurt.

“This is our home,” you said. “I fell in love with you here, Sarah grew up here, we made Evie here. This is the first place I ever really felt like I belonged, I don’t want to leave.”

Joel just smiled and kissed your forehead.

“Then we’ll stay,” he said. “Moving’s a fuckin’ hassle anyway.”

You’d just been saving money, not really sure what to do with it. You donated some of it, stopped spending time clipping coupons, finally bought a car that was from this decade (but still used). But actually spending it made you anxious. You’d never had money before. You weren’t poor, exactly. You’d always had enough to eat and a roof over your head but you almost never bought new clothes, had never really traveled outside of places that you could easily get to by car. You were pretty sure you’d never even been in a car that wasn’t at least 10 years old before you came to college and your friend Cassie gave you a ride to the store in her new BMW. It was hard to get used to the idea that money could be spent at all, that it wasn’t already earmarked for some bill or, if there was any left, that it had to be saved for a rainy day.

“You gotta actually spend some of that hard earned money on yourself, Baby,” Joel said as you headed outside to meet Sarah for your weekend in Houston. “Buy some ridiculously expensive dress that I’m gonna want to rip off you in seconds or some purse that’s $1,000 for reasons I don’t understand.”

“That’s two mortgage payments,” you said, eyes wide.

“Baby.”

“Right, right,” you nodded. “On a mission, spend money. Got it.”

“On yourself,” he added. “Not Sarah. Or not just Sarah, anyway. You two have fun.”

“You too,” you said, stretching up to kiss him goodbye. “Don’t let Evie con you into giving her candy when she gets home from school.”

“What wild thing and I get up to when you’re not around is none of your business,” he gave you one last peck on the lips. “Now go, stop worryin’, live a little.”

The mall in Houston was almost overwhelming. Not in the crowds way malls sometimes were for you, thank goodness, but with the kinds of stores. There were names you recognized from Cassie’s closet and from some of the trust fund girls in your med school program but you realized quickly you had no concept of what things like this actually cost.

Sarah picked a dress for the rehearsal that was nearly $600 and you choked on the champagne the sales person had given you to sip while Sarah tried on options.

“You really buy $600 dresses?” You gaped at her as you wandered back into the store from the dressing rooms.

“Not all the time,” she shrugged. “But we make good money and sometimes it’s fun to buy something nice.”

She held up a floor length gown to you, the bottom pooling on the ground.

“That’s too long,” you said.

“Well we’d get it tailored,” she laughed a little. “Come on, try it on.”

Another sales person wandered over and offered to set up a fitting room and you snuck a peek at the price tag. Your eyes went wide.

“That dress is $1200!” You whispered at Sarah as you trailed after the attendant.

“And it’s for my wedding,” she replied. “And don’t you have that gala thing every spring for work? You can wear it for that, you need a new dress for that anyway. Plus I’m the bride and I say you have to try it on. You can’t disappoint the bride.”

You sighed and went into the fitting room, feeling utterly out of place in your second hand Levis and vintage top you’d picked up on a shopping trip a few weeks back that felt much more your speed.

But the dress - outside of the length - looked like it had been made for you. The silk hugged your every curve, the neckline dipping just low enough to display just enough cleavage to be sexy but not so much that it would be scandalous. It was simple, no embellishments beyond the structure of the dress and the deep emerald green of the fabric. Normally you’d have scoffed at something so basic fetching such a high price but, now that it was on your body, you understood it. It was like you’d put on a work of art and, in doing so, become art yourself.

“OK you can’t laugh,” you said. “But I’m coming out.”

Sarah was waiting patiently in the little show room attached to your fitting room and you had to hold up the hem of the dress to not trip but she gasped all the same.

“Oh Mom,” her hand went to her mouth, her eyes wide. “You look incredible.”

“Yeah?” You asked, turning in the mirrors to look at yourself from every angle. “I don’t look like I’m playing dress up?”

“Not at all,” she spoke with almost a sense of reverence, looking you up and down. “You’re getting that dress. I’ll buy it for you if you won’t…”

“No, Sarah,” you protested but she pulled out her phone and snapped a picture before you had a chance to really realize what she was doing. “What was that for?”

“I’m sending this to Dad…” her voice trailed off and she took a sip of champagne just as her phone rang. She smirked and answered, putting it on speaker phone. “Speak of the devil. Hey old man, your wife is trying to tell me this dress costs too much.”

“I don’t care if that dress costs $200,000 she’s bringing it home,” Joel said. “She hear me?”

“Yes,” Sarah smiled, a shit eating grin if there ever was one.

“Good,” he said. “Baby, you look so damn amazing I’m about to jump in the truck and drive over there just to see you in that thing in person sooner. Save me a trip, bring it home, alright?”

“Alright,” you sighed.

“Didn’t quite hear that,” Joel said.

“I said alright you dork,” you said a little, grinning in spite of yourself.

“That’s my girl.”

You bought the dress. And a bag that Sarah insisted you needed for work because she was tired of seeing you haul around a canvas tote. And shoes for the dress.

When you passed the jeweler window, you were on the way to the car after spending so much money you were surprised you hadn’t fainted. You stopped, the hanger with the garment bag for the dress hooked in your fingers over your shoulder, and looked at the watch sitting in the window.

It was large and silver but not too ornate, no diamonds or anything like that. The face of the watch was black with elegant white roman numerals on the face.

“What?” Sarah asked, stopping next to you.

“Do you think your dad would like that?” You asked, head cocked a little, still looking at the timepiece through the glass.

“Yeah,” Sarah said after a moment. “Seems like a him watch, if he were going to wear a nice watch, anyway.”

Joel did already have a watch. A simple one with a green strap and silver colored case and a black face. You and Sarah had picked it out together for his birthday one year. She’d been giddy about it, you had to all but beg her to keep it a secret for a few days until it came time to give it to him. He loved the thing, wore it every day, even more than a decade later.

But your career wasn’t the only one that had advanced. Joel was no longer doing the manual labor of a contractor every day. More often than not, he was going to meet with clients and arrange contracts and make plans. For a lot of those meetings, he wore a suit and, for a lot of those meetings, you saw him stick his watch in his pocket before leaving the house instead of putting it on.

“Hard sometimes,” he said when you’d asked him about it. “Fittin’ in with these clients.”

“Let me just…” you doubled back to the entrance to the store and went inside.

The watch was more than you thought it would be. A lot more. So, so much more. You watched as the sale’s person’s eyes went from encouraging and hopeful to let down when you reacted to the price.

“One second,” you smiled sheepishly and pulled out your phone, going into your banking app. Even after spending an arm and a leg on yourself that day, the number in your personal checking account seemed obscenely high. More money than you’d ever had at once until very, very recently. You could afford the watch. You looked at the sales person and smiled.

“I’ll take it.”

You had several very strong cocktails when out to dinner with Sarah that night to make yourself feel a little better about spending thousands of dollars on things like clothes and a watch and she just smiled.

“See, Mom? You spent some money on yourself and the apocalypse did not happen, I think you can actually buy yourself things from time to time.”

“And things for your dad,” you said. “Because he needs nice things, too.”

When you got home, Joel insisted that you model the dress for him.

“It needs to be tailored,” you tried to protest.

“Not for me to take it off you it doesn’t,” he smiled from his spot on the couch, beer in hand.

“Fine,” you said. “But only if you let me model everything I bought and you can’t return any of it.”

“Deal.”

You went to your bedroom and put on the dress and the shoes and took the watch out of the bag, the face almost comically large on your wrist, before going back to the living room, hem of the dress in hand.

“Jesus Christ Baby,” he looked at you, his eyes wide. “You look… fuck me.”

“That is the idea,” you winked. “You like it?”

“Like is a fuckin’ understatement,” he said, getting up and walking around you slowly, his eyes going up and down your body. “You know, Evie’s at a friend’s for two more hours…”

“So you’re not going to make me return anything I have on?” You asked.

“Fuck no.”

“Not this dress?” You started unzipping the side before sliding the straps down your arms.

“Dress stays,” he said, gently tugging it down and exposing your chest, kissing the swell of your breasts.

“What about the shoes?” You asked, putting a sandaled foot out from below the hem. He glanced down, eyes ranging over the straps.

“Those stay, too,” he said, going back to kissing your chest. “Everything you’ve got on stays, already agreed to that.”

“Good,” you said as he made it to your neck. “Even this?”

You held up your wrist, the watch sliding down your arm.

He frowned, looking at it.

“Don’t look like you’re style,” he said. “But if it makes you happy, Baby, keep it.”

“Never said it was for me, Joel,” you smiled a little. You watched him piece it together, taking a moment for him to dawn on him.

“No,” he shook his head, looking from your arm to your face. “No, you were supposed to get stuff for yourself for a change not…”

“I did get stuff for me,” you said. “And I got this for you. Because you’re wearing suits more now and I wanted you to have the watch for that. So really, it is for me.”

He took your wrist gently in one hand, elbow in the other, tilting your arm this way and that to look at the watch in different lights.

“Baby, this…” he shook his head again. “This is too much, this is…”

“Not for you,” you cut him off. “Not after everything you’ve given me. This is not enough. But it’s a start. Besides, you said I got to keep everything I was wearing. You already agreed to it, Miller.”

“Baby,” he sighed.

“Joel,” you smiled a little. “You’re my husband. Let me give you something nice. Please.”

He brought the inside of your wrist to his lips and kissed you there, making your pulse flutter against his mouth.

“Already gave me the best thing there is,” he said. “Anything more feels like I’m stealin’ it.”

“Steal whatever you want, Miller,” you teased. “But you’re keeping the watch.”

Joel ended up wearing the watch often. Not as much as the Sarah watch - and he stuck with the Sarah watch for her wedding - but at least once a week for meetings where he needed to dress up for. Every time you gave him a little knowing smile and every time he rolled his eyes a little before kissing you goodbye. But you had yet to get him to accept anything like it in the years since, Joel trying to dodge everything every time you spent money on him.

So when his birthday was around the corner, you were bound and determined to get him something good.

“Anything you want for your birthday?” You asked as you, Joel and Ellie wandered around a street fair, meandering towards the car show. “Anything you want to do?”

“S’not like it’s a big one,” he shrugged. “Just 56. Would love to see all my girls, of course. Could use some new tongs for the grill.”

“Tongs?” Ellie said, brows raised. “Seriously? Old people are so WEIRD.”

“You know what kiddo?” Joel smiled a little, faking exasperation. “We’ll see how you’re doin’ when you’re pushin’ 60.”

“Ew,” she crinkled her nose and wandered to the first car in the row of vehicles on display. You laughed, strolling along with Joel until he stopped at a beautiful old convertible, giving a low whistle.

“What?” You asked.

“Just a pretty fuckin’ car,” he said, his hands in his pockets as he walked slowly around it. “Always wanted one of these when I was a kid.”

“Yeah?” You asked, getting an idea.

“Neighbor had one,” he nodded. “Let me ride in the back once. Coolest fuckin’ car.”

He looked over every inch of the thing and Ellie caught up with you while he did, pouting a little as she leaned on the door of the car, her chin propped on her folded arms.

“I’m starving,” she groaned. “Can I go get some fries at least?”

“Sure,” you laughed a little, pulling some cash out of your pocket. “Grab me a lemonade, too?”

You watched as she went to the food stands and you and Joel moved on, walking slowly down the row of cars when Ellie caught up with you again, passing you the lemonade. Joel stole a fry from her cup.

“Hey!” She protested. “Go get your own!”

“Might have to,” he said, giving her a wink. “Back in a sec.”

You waited until he was out of earshot before you grabbed Ellie.

“Do me a favor,” you said. “That car we were looking at? The blue one? Can you go talk to the owner and find out what make, model and year it is?”

“I guess,” she frowned. “Why?”

“Because,” you said. “I found something your dad wants besides tongs.”

You went and stood in line with Joel, keeping him distracted while Ellie did recon. She took some pictures of the car and texted you all the information which you texted to Andrew as Joel drove home from the fair.

“Can you help me find this car?” You asked him. “One that’s for sale?”

“Becoming a collector?” He texted back.

“Joel’s birthday,” you added a smilie face emoji.

“Excellent,” he replied. “I’ll find you something, don’t worry.”

It took a few weeks but Andrew found the car. A blue 1967 Mustang Convertible that was being sold down in San Antonio. He went down with you to help you test drive it - you didn’t know a damn thing about cars - and you bought it on the spot.

“He’s going to freak the fuck out,” Andrew said, driving it home since you couldn’t drive stick. “Seriously, you might give the man a heart attack…”

You rolled your eyes but laughed all the same.

“I really hope he loves it,” you said, running your fingers over the dash.

“I’ll take it off your hands if he doesn’t,” Andrew smiled. “Just don’t tell Jess.”

Tommy agreed to store the car in his garage until Joel’s party at his house in two weeks and you were giddy as you drove home, feeling like a kid at Christmas as you tried to keep the car a secret.

By the time the party rolled around, even Ellie was excited and having a hard time holding it together.

“It’s really just a cookout at Tommy’s,” Joel said as the three of you piled in the car to head over. “Not sure why you two are actin’ like we’re going to fuckin’ Six Flags…”

“Tommy’s cooler than you,” Ellie said. “Nice to spend time with someone who isn’t a total dinosaur…”

“Alright, in the car kiddo,” Joel smiled and shook his head a little. “Can’t take you anywhere ’til seatbelts are on, let’s go!”

You texted Tommy that you were on the way and he responded with a picture of the car, shiny in his driveway with a big, red bow on the hood.

“He’s going to lose his mind, Kid,” he texted back. “Please tell Maria I want this same treatment when I’m old.”

“Better put in some work to deserve it, Miller,” you replied, smiling a little.

Joel parked on the street, frowning at the car in Tommy’s driveway.

“When the hell’d Tommy get a Mustang?” He got out, his frown deepening. You almost laughed.

“He didn’t,” you smiled, so big it was like your face was going to crack.

Joel looked confused for half a moment before his mouth dropped open in shock.

“No,” he shook his head. Ellie leaned between the front seats, grinning hugely, “No, no that’s… Baby. No.”

“Suck it up, old man,” Ellie smirked as Sarah and Brandon came out of the house, little Carson making a beeline for the car. Sarah and Brandon waved as Tommy and Maria joined them in the yard. Ellie pulled the keys out of her pocket and dangled them between you and Joel. He took them, staring at them in his hand for a second.

“Should take it before I do,” Tommy hollered and you laughed as you got out of the car and followed an almost dazed Joel toward the Mustang.

He walked, in awe, around the car twice.

“I…” he said but stopped, staring at the convertible for a moment. “I don’t….”

“Do you like it?” You asked, coming up beside him and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Fuckin’ love it,” he said, immediately looking at you. “But Baby, this is too much, way too much, I can’t…”

“Yes you can,” you smiled up at him. He looked down at you, the awed expression still on his face. “After everything you’ve done for me? For us? Everything you’ve sacrificed, all the ways you take care of me and our girls? The life you gave me? Still not enough, Joel. Not for you.”

He pulled you tight to him and kissed the top of your head.

“I love you,” he said, his voice wet. “So goddamn much, Baby.”

Tommy set up chairs and a table in the front yard so everyone could sit near the car while celebrating Joel. He kept looking over at it in disbelief before looking at you with eyes filled with gratitude and wonder. You couldn’t remember the last time your heart felt quite so full.

You drove Ellie home, following slowly behind Joel in the new convertible.

“OK I know what this shit means,” Ellie said, gesturing between you and Joel after you got home, your husband clutching you to his side. “Try to keep it down and not be gross about it because ugh.”

“Was actually going to see if you wanted to take the car for a spin,” you smiled up at Joel. “Just you and me. Assuming Ellie will behave herself and actually go to bed at a reasonable time.”

“Anything to get away from whatever that is,” Ellie said, smiling a little as she went to her room. You laughed.

“So,” you said, once she closed the door to her room. You looked up at Joel, smiling. “Care to take me for a ride, Mr. Miller?”

He grinned.

“Whatever you say, Mrs. Miller.”

He took you through town slowly, down quiet side streets filled with sleeping people and past businesses that had closed for the night, until the two of you ended up at a large park on the edge of town where things were a little darker and you could see some of the stars.

“I can’t believe you got me a car, Baby,” he said, his hands running over the steering wheel. His smile was so big you could see it even in the dim light of the moon. “It’s really…”

“If you say it’s too much again, Joel, I will go and buy you a second one on principle.”

He laughed at that.

“I was gonna say it was the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” he said, turning to look at you. “Besides you and the girls of course.”

“Oh, of course,” you smiled.

He leaned in and kissed you gently.

“Not sure what I did to deserve you,” he said. “But I sure am grateful for it.”

Your kiss shifted and you started climbing over the center console, Joel taking a second to move his seat all the way back. You bunched your skirt around your hips and settled over him, kissing him harder, more eager.

“I’m pretty damn grateful for you,” you whispered against his mouth, his hands going to your hips. You ground down on him and he moaned, pressing his hard length up against you through his jeans. “And I think the birthday boy should get laid in his dream car.”

“Dream car,” he said, kissing you. “Dream woman.” He kissed you again. “Perfect fuckin’ birthday.”

You unzipped his fly as you kissed him and tucked your panties to the side, notching his cock against your entrance. He moaned as you sank slowly down onto him, taking all of him inside of you, savoring how he filled you.

You started slowly, just grinding him deeper into you as you kissed him, his tongue licking into your mouth.

“You feel fuckin’ amazing Baby,” he moaned, kissing down your throat until he reached your breasts, cleavage bared in your v-neck top. “Always feel so damn good…”

He was thrusting up into you, trying to set his own pace, and you decided to allow that, matching him stroke for stroke as he groaned below you. His hands ranged up your back, pawing at your shirt until be was able to raise it enough to slide below it and get at your skin with a satisfied moan. He clutched you close, so close that you could hardly move over him anymore. Instead, he fucked up into you, making you whimper and your channel tighten around him.

“C’mon Baby,” he grunted, voice strained. “Want you to come for me. All I want now is you to come for me, come all over me, fuck Baby…”

You bit down on his shoulder to keep quiet, the sounds of crickets and cicadas on the air as you came, your sex throbbed around him. You whimpered against him as you came down from your high and he kept working you, his grip on you tightening.

“Fuck Baby,” he gasped. “Feel too good, I’m gonna… fuck… I’m…”

He cut himself off with a groan, thrusting deep and filling you, his grip on you relaxing enough that you could sit up a little. You looked at him in the moonlight his eyes closed, a blissed out look on his face. You smiled a little, brushing his more unruly curls back from his forehead.

“I love you so much, Baby,” he smiled a little, eyes still closed.

“So I did alright for your birthday?” You teased lightly, his softening cock still buried inside you.

He laughed.

“Did perfect,” he tugged you close enough that he could kiss you again, careful to not push you back against the horn. “Perfect fuckin’ birthday, perfect fuckin’ woman, perfect fuckin’ wife.”

“Good,” you smiled, kissing him. “You deserve it, Joel. You deserve the world.”

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #lavender #joel miller smut #joel miller x oc

203 notes · View notes

astoundingbeyondbelief · 5 months

Text

Kaiju Week in Review (November 26-December 2, 2023)

I wasn't over the moon when Toho announced that Takashi Yamazaki's Blockbuster Monster Movie was in fact the next Godzilla film. I had seen a few of his works—none bad, but none spectacular either. Well, I've set my sights on watching the rest in the new year, because Godzilla Minus One is an unqualified masterpiece. A tagline from the original Godzilla, King of the Monsters! comes to mind (as it often does when you're me): "Mightiest melodrama of them all!" A lot of the post-Showa films suffer from an abundance of characters who just spout exposition and look at monitors; here, almost everyone in the small cast gets at least one close encounter with Godzilla, and the monster's backstory is conveyed with extreme efficiency. This tale of a war veteran trying to rebuild his life in the ruins of Tokyo, stumbling into a family, finding fulfillment in blowing up leftover mines, and haunted by what he perceives as his cowardice in combat, would have been plenty compelling without Godzilla.

Since it does have Godzilla, it's high on my list of the best movies of the year, and I only need one viewing to call it one of the best installments in the almost-70-year-old series. Yamazaki patiently waited some 15 years after Always: Sunset on Third Street 2 for his shot at a Godzilla feature. You certainly get the sense, watching one of the most brutal, pissed-off incarnations of the monster ever to grace the screen, that he spent every day of it in preparation. Watch it often while it's still in theaters, and watch it big.

Godzilla Minus One will gross about $10 million in its U.S. opening "weekend", a third-place finish that beat expectations. For context, Godzilla 2000, the last Toho Godzilla film to receive a wide release here, made about $10 million during its entire theatrical run here. Ticket prices were cheaper then, of course, and Minus One was helped along further by almost half of attendees going to premium-format screenings. Conversely, it had to overcome Americans' subtitle phobia, and the first weekend of December is usually a slow one. I was pessimistic at the outset, but now I expect larger theaters to carry the film into the new year, especially with near-universal raves from critics and audiences.

Yes, a third section for Godzilla Minus One; it's well-deserved, I promise. MyKaiju is risking life and limb by hosting an English translation of the film's novelization, written by Takashi Yamazaki himself. It appears to be at least partially machine-translated, but the Japanese text is included for comparison. Haven't read it yet, as I want to see the film a second time first, but quite a breakthrough given how mysterious this sort of thing usually is.

Monarch: Legacy of Monsters could never hope to compare with the opening of a stellar new Godzilla film; unfortunately, I also thought this week's episode was the weakest so far. It's bookended by Frost-Vark action, but the rest just drags. All's forgiven if the teacher and the hacker smooch though.

Toho and Legendary used to let each other's live-action Godzilla movies breathe; now the U.S. opening weekend of one is coinciding with the opening marketing push of the other. IGN released a trio of pics from Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire, showing Kong with his axe; Dr. Andrews, Jia, and Trapper (Dan Stevens's character) in uniform; and Godzilla "evolving into a powerful new form." The same article included an interview with director Adam Wingard. Naturally, he didn't give away much... besides the return of Doug.

Earlier in the week, Legendary put out a trio of posters featuring Godzilla, Kong, and the film's antagonist, now christened Skar King. The taglines ("Unite" for our heroes, "Bow to Your King" for SK) sound like kaiju campaign slogans. Makes me wonder if, like Godzilla vs. Megalon before it, the movie will improbably capitalize on the presidential election next year. To steal a joke from Titanollante: Godzilla/Kong unity ticket? They'd have my vote.

Godzilla's new form, meanwhile, has already been spoiled by a T-shirt on Legendary's own site and some dire-looking Playmates figures. It makes sense that Wingard would want to have his own spin on the character after keeping the design from Godzilla: King of the Monsters for Godzilla vs. Kong. Hard to cast judgment without seeing the real design in full, but there's one particular detail I really like.

The film also has a booth at CCXP in Brazil, with a panel later today, so I think a trailer is incoming (the main reason I hammered out this whole post so quickly).

I missed this one last week: Tsuburaya announced an anime project called Ultraman: DARKNESS HEELS. The DARKNESS HEELS branding has been around for a while, spotlighting prominent evil Ultras—and, of course, Jugglus Juggler. No details on the anime yet, but if the Juggleman's there, so am I.

The big toy reveal this weekend was Super7's ULTIMATES! MaiGoji figure. Previous Godzilla figures from this line haven't lived up to the official photos, but hope springs eternal. It's $85 (much less than the MonsterArts); preorders started Friday. Other highlights: a Super7 ReAction figure of the original Godzilla's skeleton, which comes with a little Oxygen Destroyer, and a plush Mothra from Surreal Entertainment that can flip to imago form to a neck pillow-shaped larva.

#kaiju week in review #godzilla #godzilla minus one #monarch legacy of monsters #godzilla x kong the new empire #ultraman darkness heels #kaiju

112 notes · View notes

fluffysucker · 10 months

Text

5. The ways you say my name.

Bucky Barnes x Reader (AU)

A/N: Written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female.

I didn't specify anything about the reader's work/job, so it can fit everybody.

I hope you are enjoying the story so far. I'm so excited for you to read this chapter and the upcoming ones.

Likes, comments, reblogs are VERY VERY highly appreciated. Opinions really matter to me

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Days passed. And days turned into weeks, and weeks became months. Time moved. However, for you, it was moving so fast and yet so slowly.

Having the kids for five days a week all by yourself turned out to be a bigger challenge than you thought. There was always something that had to be done from the moment they woke up until they went to bed. You wondered how long the day was. It felt like two hours for you at most. Your appreciation for single mothers increases by the day.

Then came the weekends. And the house would be so quiet. No loud cartoons. No mess lying around. No school homework. No one is asking for stuff. No one shouts Mommy every five seconds. Your house was no longer home at the weekends. Time would move painfully slowly. Leaving you to yourself. You always tried to make plans with Natasha or Sharon. It didn't always work, leaving you with yet another downside of the split. Loneliness.

It made it a little easier knowing the kids counted the days until the end of the week so they could spend as much time with their dad as they could. Bucky was by no means an absent father. On weekdays, he would call at least twice a day and sometimes show up at the house to see them. The kids would be so happy.

You started to understand why so many people stayed in their marriage just for the kids. Their big smile alone was worth it.

However, this couldn't be the case for you and Bucky.

True to your words, you were great co-parents. Doing your duties to the fullest. When it came to kids, you and Bucky were doing it right. You were communicating well. Keeping the other updated and aware of anything regarding the kids. You had no problem showing up together for important school events, practices, or other kids' birthday parties. Theo's birthday was three weeks ago. You and Bucky planned it all without a minor inconvenience. And the party was amazing. You even let Bucky stay over that day upon Theo's request. In the guest room.

Because once the kids were not involved, you were strangers. Keeping the conversations light and small. Mainly checking the other's wellbeing.

Bucky was in awe of this. He was fully prepared when he showed up to pick the kids up the weekend following your confrontation to have you so cold and short towards him. And he deserved it.

Except you weren't. You were still the sweet and nice person you always were. Inviting him in and offering a drink. Asking about his plans for the weekend. It was like nothing ever happened.

He understood later. You were going to be the best version of yourself possible for Lily and Theo. They didn't deserve parents who couldn't be civilized. It's already hard enough on the six- and four-year-old's, so he followed in your footsteps. And you're doing great.

But sometimes he could see your act falling. Your eyes showing the truth. You were far from fine. You were still hurting from it all. You were begging for a cure for the pain. But never to him. Not anymore.

Bucky wasn't doing that well either. When he wasn't a father, who was he? He used to be your husband. Now he wasn't. And wasn't that what he wanted? To find out who he was when he wasn't yours.

The infamous fuckboy and successful businessman, but nobody believed he would be a family man. Was that what Bucky wanted? Absolutely not. It didn't sound right anymore.

Then what did he want? Why did he damage his life for uncertainty and unclarity?

This was why you always encouraged him to communicate his feelings and share his fears. Because look what happened when he didn't.

Bucky knew the way like the back of his hand. He used to pick you up so much back then. So much.

As Bucky was about to walk into your usual spot, he found you already leaving.

"Bucky. Hi." It never failed to amaze him how nice you were to him. Even when the kids weren't around.

"Everything is okay?" He shouldn't be surprised. You would only expect him to be here for something.

"Yes. I know the kids are spending the day at Becca's. I was wondering if it would be okay if I picked them up and had them over." Bucky was missing the kids extra this week. Maybe not just them.

"Of course. I have a meeting right now. I'll call you once it's over, and we can meet at the house to pick up their stuff." Bucky couldn't help but smile. Being a successful woman and an amazing mother was something you excelled at. It always filled him with pride and happiness.

Before he could say anything, a voice interrupted both of you.

"Ready to go, dear?" Standing behind you was what could only be described as a god of a man. More than 6'3" tall. Muscles unbelievably massive. Fluffy brown hair. Light blue eyes. Features perfectly sculptured. Along with a very expensive-looking suit complimenting him in all the right places. And a voice matching his vibe. Deep and strong.

To say the man was extremely handsome would barely be enough.

He came to stand behind you, resting his hand on the small of your back.

"Yes. Just a minute." You replied, looking comfortable with his presence and his touch.

"So it should be done by five; we can meet then?" You turned to Bucky to confirm your plan.

However, Bucky was staring at the stranger's hand, sliding to your waist, moving you smoothly and slightly so people passing wouldn't brush into you.

Who the hell was this guy?

He snapped out of it and nodded, ensuring it worked for him.

"I'm sorry, let me introduce you." You spoke

"This is our new business partner, Thor Odinson." A new guy then.

"Thor, this is James. My kids' father."

Bucky could swear he heard his heart break into pieces. Your words cut deeper than all his scars.

It was the first time you didn't introduce him as your husband. Bucky never thought it would hurt so much.

He was your man once. Now he is James.

He has no one else to blame.

Bucky swelled the pit in his chest and acknowledged the man standing with a simple nod, which Thor returned.

"Did you check everything?" You turned to Thor slightly, so now his hand was almost wrapped around your waist.

"Stop worrying, my dear. You will do great." Thor spoke softly to you.

Bucky was never one for self-control. The sight in front of him was pushing the limit. He could feel the heat rushing through his body. He hoped it wasn't clear on his face.

You walked away after promising to call him once you were done. You and Thor started talking, and he immediately noticed the man keeping you on the less busy side of the pavement, furthest away from cars.

Who the hell was this man? Why was he touching you like this? Why was he calling you pet names? Why was he doing everything Bucky was supposed to do? And why were you so comfortable with him?

"I mean. If he is just a business partner. Why so close?"

Bucky has been pacing around nonstop in Rebecca's living room since he arrived at her house.

"So let me get this straight." Rebecca finally spoke, fed up with her brother's tactics.

"You saw your ex-wife, who is single, with a hot man doing nothing more than being friendly." She recapped the story that had been eating him alive.

"You didn't see it." This was the only thing he could say to defend his crazy behavior.

"And she is working with him on the weekend. Why?. Aren't the weekdays enough?" Bucky tried so hard to keep it to himself when he showed up at your house, as you agreed. He almost felt the steam coming out of his ear like a cartoon character when you told him you would be busy this weekend, working on the new deal and working with Thor.

"Bucky.."

"I mean, what if he is a creep?. What if he is a serial killer?"

"Or what if he falls in love with her?" Bucky stopped abruptly in his place, looking at his sister.

"He is spending so much time with her. It won't take him long to see the wonderful person she is. So he will ask her out, and what will stop her from saying yes? Nothing." The vivid scenario Rebecca drew was actually Bucky's nightmare.

"Isn't that what you are really afraid of?" Rebecca looked at her brother with all seriousness.

"You realized she is in the market again. She is fair game. And suddenly, you're mad." Bucky looked like a kid who got caught eating candy after midnight.

"Well, let me tell you, Bucky, you are full of shit." Leave it to Rebecca Barnes to give her brother a piece of her mind.

"That woman isn't your toy. You can't choose to love her one day and leave her the next."

"I don't know what you were expecting, but she deserves to move on. To get back on her feet. And you don't even deserve to be jealous. You chose this." And she wasn't going to sugarcoat it.

"That woman was the best thing to have ever happened to you."

It was time for Bucky to have a reality check.

"Do you have any idea how much people warned her about you? Advised her against dating you? They told her you would only hurt her. That you would leave her once you got bored, like you did with every other woman. But she didn't care and chose you."

"She loved you with all her heart and even more. She stayed loyal and kind to you. And what did you do? You proved them right." Rebecca couldn't hide the disappointment in her voice.

"And when?. After she let her guard down and believed it wasn't going to happen, you, in fact, did change. After she had built a whole life with you. A house. A career. Kids. A family. And you still left. For what? Nobody can know."

"I don't know either."

Rebecca looked at her brother, confused, as he sat down next to her on the couch.

"I don't know what happened. I got in my head. I looked back at what my life was like and what it was like now. I let my mind trick me into thinking this is not me. I only ever changed for her. I only did these things because she wanted them, not because I wanted them. That I never wanted this life. The wife. The kids. The white picket fence It's not me."

Bucky couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but he could remember the dark thoughts filling his head. Deceiving him into missing the playboy he once was. The man who was praised for his many affairs. The one he thought he should have always been.

"And it didn't stop there. I started thinking she was going to see it all. The truth. My truth. A man questioning his life choices. His family. Our Home. A man she deserves so much better than him. So she was going to hate me." Bucky wasn't an insecure man. However, he was never able to shake the fear of him not being enough for you. Of never being good enough for you.

So, with an assumed longing for an old version of himself, his fears were on overdrive.

"So I returned to my roots. Self-destruction." It was an old habit implemented so deep in him. It stopped gradually and almost disappeared after he met you. But with a mess in his head that he couldn't control, he retrieved to the old coping mechanism.

"I stayed longer at work. I hung out with Steve or Sam more than I should have. I took on any work trip I could. And when I'm at home, I'm either at my office or with the kids. I would call off dates before even planning. Our bedroom became so silent. It doesn't take a genius to see what I was doing." Bucky would never find a strong explanation for his behavior. He was blinded by his doubts. Blinded by what could only be described as a mental crisis.

"And she tried. She tried so hard to know what was happening. She could read me like an open book. She knew my mind was playing games with me. She reached out and beyond to know what game it was this time." A sad smile formed on Bucky's face. He recalled every time you begged him, in so many different ways, to talk to you. You wanted to know what was bothering him. What was driving him away from you.

"I could see it in her eyes. She tried to deny it. To deny what was happening. She didn't want it to be true. She didn't want to believe the game was so cruel this time that she was a victim as well. That I couldn't share my worries. That I really retrieved to my old self. I was shutting down on myself. I was shutting her out." Bucky could remember the look in your eyes when you started to realize what was going on. That you were the cause of this wavering. That he was shutting you down so he could find a way to let you down slowly.

"I saw all her calls for help, and I didn't do anything." This had a whole different meaning now that he knew about your baby. It was a new torment that nobody prepared him for.

"And what could I do? Tell her I'm questioning myself, our family, and our home. Tell her my fear that she always deserved better than me was getting too loud." Bucky couldn't find a way to tell you that the demon on his shoulder was taking over.

"I let myself think that it would be better if I left. If I didn't wake up every day and think this life is not meant for me, I should give up. Admit I can't commit anymore." The perplexity Bucky found himself in was overwhelming. So he gave up. He took the route that seemed the easiest at the time, unknowingly to him, it would lead to distressing cycle of pain and regret.

"I thought I would get back to my old ways. Nights out. Travelling. A different woman every night. A free man." An illusion the evil part of his brain built for him. An illusion he thought he must follow.

"But you still wanted to be part of the kids' lives?" Rebecca couldn't keep the question in for long.

"I thought I could be the fun dad who only sees his kids on weekends and vacations. I would have her carry all the responsibilities. " He wasn't ashamed to tell his sister how low he had fallen. How far his mind betrayed him.

"But I couldn't. I would wake up, think of them, and wait until I could call them. I would count the minutes until I could have them. I want to know everything about them." After ruining everything, his demons failed to make him a bad father.

"It turns out that old me isn't what I want anymore." Bucky finally admitted the truth. The truth is that he let insecurity and a messed-up thought win.

"But that makes it look like..."

"I only couldn't commit to her. That I don't love her."

Because you didn't know he planned to withdraw from the three of you, it appears now that he only left you.

"Truth is.."

"The truth is, I love her more than anything. She owns my heart and soul. She is the reason for everything good that has ever happened to me. Because she used to silence my demons. She was my antidote."

"It kills me that I ended up only hurting her. My sweet girl."

Bucky couldn't keep the tears from falling, so he let them fall on his face. He finally admitted what had been happening inside of him for so long. And he wasn't proud of it.

"Oh, Bucky." Rebecca couldn't find it in herself to watch her brother be so vulnerable.

"I didn't mean to hurt her, I swear." His voice was so small, just like how he felt.

"I really thought it would be better for the both of us if I left. I guess that is why they always say, Let the wife make the decisions." Bucky laughed through the tears. Maybe if he really did open up to you, you would still be his.

"Mistakes happen, Bucky. Some are more expensive than others." Maybe it was the justice of the universe for Bucky to live in regret for the pain he caused you.

"And there is only one thing you can do now." Bucky turned his full attention to Rebecca, needing the advice and the help.

"Move on."

Taglist: @lethallyprotected @almosttoopizza @ragingrainbowshipl @dexter99 @xdarkcreaturex @nash-dara @paarthurnax59 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @unaxv @missmielyhoran @wintermischief @kandis-mom

351 notes · View notes

pitifulbaby · 1 year

Text

kiss-a-thon

summary: a mixtape and some kisses can fix anyone's day.

pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

warnings: you might need to see a dentist after with all this tooth rotting fluff.

a/n: okay so the wonderful @thefreak0fhawkinshigh made this post and I just had to write it with their permission first of course. but i hope you enjoy it! also bc i said so the upside down and all that doesn’t exist. 2.1k words

THE MIXTAPE ignore how some of the songs came out after 86′

You never thought that the last few months of your senior year would be like this, sure you knew it would be haywire- but not like this. Most days were fine, from waking up early to finals and tests throughout the school day to rushing out of school to your part time job at the local grocery store, getting home to scramble and do homework before passing out- though now that you think it doesn’t sound fine. It sounds hectic. How you manage to take time to breathe between any of it is beyond you. When you can, you also help your boyfriend Eddie study, he deserves to graduate this year- and he wants to, but whereas your life in a sense is nonstop, his brain is the same way. It’s obvious he has a hard time concentrating on things he doesn’t enjoy which is understandable, but with your patience and his will- Eddie Munson was graduating in 86’.

The day was long, but luckily you were free from work for the day. Though you knew you had a break, it still was obvious that you were in need of a rest. It wasn’t that you were tired- perse, you were just worn down and in need of sitting and doing something you enjoyed. Eddie had noticed your sluggish attitude, you two shared a few classes, but what sealed the deal was you not sitting with him and the hellfire club at lunch, opting for sitting in the library to finish up some things, wanting some quiet instead of a highschool lunchroom. Time got away from Eddie- he was planning on cutting his lunch short to go sit with you in the library, wanting to give you some time alone before he would venture off to you. But the boys had questions, one after another and soon enough the bell rang, showcasing the end of the lunch period.

Seemingly the rest of the day seemed to go by fast, and Eddie had a plan. He typically brought you to and fro from school- truthfully, Eddie tried to drive you anywhere and everywhere you needed to go. It wasn’t even that you couldn’t drive, no, you had your licenses and a car. But Eddie had to drive you around, he enjoyed even the short time with you in the car. He was gonna take every chance to be with you, even if it was a five minute car ride.

With one final bell ring, the school day ended. Even better it was a Friday, the weekend finally in sight and in grasp. Standing at your locker you put away the books you didn’t need and took the ones you did need, before you could grab the last book you felt a hand on your lower back- letting out a soft gasp as you turn your head.

“Hey, it’s me-” Eddie’s hand runs up your back and rests at the back of your neck, smiling at you. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” Which it was odd to him, it wasn’t hard to hear Eddie when he was walking. With his chains and big boots, plus knowing him for quite a long time, you are able to pick up the sound of him by his walking. And even through the busy halls, through the sounds of people chattering about the weekend and trying as fast as possible to get out, you usually can hear him. He simply hums in response, watching you close your locker. Before you can do anything else Eddie is zipping up your backpack and taking it from your hands, throwing his arm over your shoulder and pulling you close. “I have an idea, sweetgirl.” He leaned down to whisper to you, with furrowed brows you turned your head a tad to look at him.

“Should I be nervous?” You questioned him, which he only responded with moving his arm from around your shoulders to around your waist- pinching you over your shirt ever so softly. “Hey!” You couldn't help but giggle, which made Eddie’s heart soar at the sound. Stepping outside of the school’s front door and down through the parking lot you two were finally at Eddie’s van.

Eddie Munson’s van was a sight to behold, the 71’ Chevrolet was one of the males prized possessions. It had been his uncles in the early 80s before letting his nephew have it when he got his permit. Ever since then the metal head treated it like it was his baby- sure he was a bit rough with it, it really wasn’t his fault that he sped, the music he listens to shouldn't be so damn easy to speed to! To others it was just a rusted tin can, but it was something special to him.

He brings you round to the passenger side, opening the door for you and holding out his hand to help you up, bowing his head. “Your chariot awaits, princess.” He purred, which caused you to laugh and blush at his antics, taking his hand and stepping in. Once you were seated in he was leaning over you to fasten your seatbelt- pressing a kiss to your cheek before closing the door and running to the drivers side and hopping in. “Whats the plan?” You said, turning your body to him.

He simply hummed in response, starting the car. His hand went to the back of your headrest, looking behind as he pulled out. It might be weird but there was something so attractive when he did that, watching his hair fall in his face, trailing your eyes up his arm. But the moment was over soon and he was driving off.

“Were you checking me out?” Eddie drawled out, letting his voice be a bit more high pitched. He kept one hand on the wheel while the other came and rested on your thigh. Your skirt rode up a bit, his hand warm but his rings cold, giving an odd contrast. Placing your hand on his with a smile. “Always,” You promise, letting your gaze shift out the window.

Now Eddie was a man who drove a bit recklessly, enjoying to have his window down and music blasting as he ventured off wherever. But with you he was more careful, he had precious cargo so he wasn’t gonna risk anything.

With furrowed brows you realize he completely ignored your question, turning to him with a small pout. “You didn’t tell me what the plan is, Teddy.” You mumble out, playing with the rings on his fingers. His hand gently squeezes your thigh, “Its a surprise.” His reply is plain and simple, gaze focused on the road.

A few turns, stoplights and stop signs and you are pulling off into a clearing that takes you through the woods before he is parking with the back of the van facing out to lovers lake. “Hop in the back.” He says while turning to you, reaching over and undoing your seatbelt. His smile is wide as he watches you climb into the back, placing a small smack to your bottom as you climb over the console into the back of the van.

In the back of Eddie’s van was a mattress, a couple pillows and a blanket or two. He also had an amp and some wires for when he would play at The Hideout. Once in the back you plopped back onto the mattress, leaning your back against the side of the van as you looked toward the front of the van. You watch as Eddie fumbles with the radio, popping in what you assume is one of the many mixtapes he has made for you. But, the song that plays through the van’s speakers is one you haven’t heard in any of the cassettes.

Seconds later the sound of a saxophone is coming from the speakers, the voice of George Michael following the instrument as Careless Whispers plays. The song itself causes a laugh to bubble out, but your laughter only grows as Eddie is stumbling over the console just like you moments before- only he is less graceful than you were. Literally stumbling and fumbling onto the mattress. He is then scrambling onto his knees, reaching forward to you and resting his hands under your knees and pulling you forward to him. Sending you to lay back flat against the mattress. His hands move from your legs to rest on either side of your head, his body resting between your thighs.

“Wanna know the plan now?” He questions, his words soft. If he wasn’t so close you wouldn’t be able to hear him over the saxophone. Your own hands trail up, gently brushing through his curls that fall into your face. “Hm?” You question, already lost in the boy. Eddie move to rest on his elbows, the front of his thighs pressing against the back of yours, your skirt having flipped up during this all.

“I am gonna kiss you, a lot.” Before you could even respond to him, his plush lips are pressing against yours. The faint taste of cigarettes linger on his mouth, but its a taste you have come to enjoy because it is whole heartedly Eddie.

The shirt you wore had rode up as well, the blanket against your back scratching your skin ever so slightly against the material. One hand stays locked in his hair while the other trails down to rest against his chest. Your hand gravitates to the guitar pick necklace he always wore, feeling it dangle down against you- letting your fingers gently mess with the jewelry. Eddie keeps one arm propping him up, his other arm moving to wrap around your waist, his hand splayed against the small of your back and pulls your body closer to his, though he was already pressed flush against you.

He never lets up his kissing, the kiss started out sweet before turning into something more, gently nibbling your bottom lip and fighting for dominance against you in a war you were glad to lose. You could feel the need for oxygen become strong, but the thought of pulling away from the kiss sounded like a nightmare, you never wanted to be away from Eddie- especially when he was kissing you like this.

But he seemed to have other plans, pulling away slightly only to start to trail kisses down, starting from the corner of your mouth, to the underside of your jaw before attaching himself to your neck. He found your sweet spot quickly, he knew your body like the back of his hand. Feeling him start to suck and nibble at the sensitive skin causing you to gasp, back arching and hand pulling at the strands of hair you were holding. The pull wasn’t hard, but enough to pull him away from your skin. He looks up at you with a small pout, lips red and kiss swollen.

“You said you were gonna kiss me a lot.” You said with a huff, brows furrowing as you tilted your chin down to look at him. The way you look at Eddie has his heart soaring for a second time today, “I know, but I didn’t say where.” He says in the same tone as you, copying your huff and furrowed brows. After that he was back to leaving kisses across your throat, leaving blossoms of purple and blues in his wake as he left his mark.

Careless Whispers finishes, the song soon changing to Rock You Like a Hurricane. You open your mouth to question Eddie, letting out a shuddery breath before trying to catch your composure. “I haven’t heard these two in any of the tapes.” You manage to mumble out, eyes fluttering shut.

He pulls away at your words, shifting to hover over you. “Made a new mixtape for you last night.” Eddie smiles through his words, pride lacing each syllable. “And before you lecture me about not getting any sleep-” he pinches your thigh mid sentence, causing you to squeal and open your eyes. “I couldn’t sleep.”

It wasn’t that you lectured Eddie, you just told him often you think it would do him good to get a decent night's rest, going to bed at a good hour. “So I made this mix, and its titled the ‘kiss-a-thon’ mix.” His nose scrunches up after his words, cheeks more red than usual as he blushes. “Probably a stupid name-” He trails off, which you quickly shake your head. “No! It’s not stupid, Teddy. I love it.” Your smile is bright, eyes wide and happy as you look at him.

“Yeah?” He questions, a little unsure. You nod, before furrowing your brows a bit, letting out a hum. “Though I might have a better name for it.” Your smile widens, more devious this time. Eddie catches on to that, a look of fake surprise on his face. “Oh? And whats that?”

“The kiss-a-thon mix that might lead to more.” And with that, you are crashing your lips back to his.

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagines #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn imagines #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfic #joseph quinn fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #pitifulbaby

358 notes · View notes

xiaq · 11 months

Text

Steddie outsider POV pt. 5

AO3 Pt. 1 Robin Pt. 2 Wayne Pt. 3 Wayne's Boyfriend Pt. 4 Will

Tommy Hagan isn’t proud of the person he was in high school. If he’s honest, he isn’t proud of the person he was for most of college either. But by the end of college, he’d had enough experiences and met enough people that challenged his previous worldviews to realize who he was wasn't who he wanted to be. And he had the ability to change. So he did.

He feels like a good portion of the last eight years of his life has been doing penance for the first twenty. So when he gets the Hawkins High School Reunion invitation in the mail, his first impulse is not to go. He hasn’t been in contact with his former friends since two days after graduation when he packed up his car and left Hawkins for good; there’s no reason for him to inflict his presence on the people he used to torment.

But (and this is the ‘but’ that makes him reconsider).

Steve might be there.

And Steve sits apart from everyone else, because Tommy does want to see him. Not desperately, not like he’s been pining all these years. But he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t had thoughts. That he hasn’t wondered.

He’s learned a lot in the last decade. About himself and his—embarrassingly clear now—preference for men. And in the process he learned that ‘practicing kissing’ with your best friend was not a normal heterosexual activity. Which means Steve, maybe, has realized the same sorts of things about himself. And it’s not like he thinks they’ll see each other again after all this time and fall into each other's arms but…well. He’s Steve. And if Tommy has a chance with him, no matter how small, he’s still going to take it.

He responds yes to the invitation. He books his flights.

He works out a bit more than usual in the weeks leading up to it.

No reason.

His primary objective, of course, cannot be hoping to seduce Steve. His first priority needs to be making amends. So when the day finally arrives and he puts on his suit and the cab drops him at the familiar front roundabout, he walks through the double doors, picks up his name tag, and starts his apology tour.

It takes a while.

By the time he’s made a circuit of the badly decorated gymnasium and apologized to everyone who’ll let him approach them, it’s been an hour. He’s managed to mostly avoid his former friends and feels he deserves the beer he’s just freed from the slushy water in the ice chest.

And that’s when he sees him: Steve Harrington.

He looks good. Better, even, than Tommy had expected. He’s wearing a plain white T, aviator sunglasses tucked in the collar, and black jeans. Lace up black boots. His hair is almost exactly the same, maybe a little longer, than the last time Tommy saw him a decade before. Not even a hint of a receding hairline, damn him.

Tommy would think no time had passed at all if not for the full sleeve of tattoos on his left arm and long-healed scars on his right, the fact that his shoulders are a little broader, his chest a little thicker. Clearly he never stopped working out, unlike the majority of the former basketball team members milling about around them.

He looks like a fucking rock star. Or a movie star. And clearly Tommy is not the only one who has noticed. Within seconds Steve has gathered a crowd and Tommy can’t help but push his way into the fringe of it, watching Steve smile politely and gently shrug off more than one woman’s touch. He shifts his cup to his left hand and takes a long, pointed, drink.

There’s a wedding band on his finger.

Tommy knows he shouldn’t be surprised. He didn’t honestly think something was going to happen between them. But then again, a ring might not even mean much. He’s spent weekends with men who play straight Monday through Friday plenty of times.

Steve meets his eye and smiles cautiously behind the rim of his cup. “Tommy. Hey.”

Fuck. Maybe he does still have a chance.

“Hey,” he says, and then, to the larger group, “ladies, do you mind if I steal Steve for a minute?”

A few of them whine like they’re still in high school, Stacy Ferguson actually twirls her hair, but they let Steve leave with him and they meander toward one of the cocktail tables under the basketball goal.

“You look good,” Steve says. Tommy can’t decide if he should read anything into that.

“Me? Have you seen yourself? And I thought you were insufferable in high school.”

He laughs, scrubbing a hand through the back of his hair.

“Listen,” Tommy says. “I know I was a massive dick to you, there at the end, that I was…generally a shitty person in high school, and I’ve always wanted to apologize to you. I’ve been apologizing to a lot of people today. But you were––you were important to me. And I regret how we ended things. So. I’m sorry.”

Steve considers him, a little pinch between his brows that is winding in its familiarity. “I appreciate the apology. What brought about the change of heart, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“College. Maturity. New York, in general.”

“Getting out of the echo chamber that is Hawkins?” He says knowingly.

Tommy points at him.

“You still in New York?” Steve asks.

“Yeah. Lawyer. Just like dad always wanted. You?”

Steve whistles. “Nothing so impressive. We own a music venue in San Fran, but that sounds fancier than it is. I mostly split my time between playing bouncer and playing bartender.”

San Fran. Tommy tries to catch Steve’s eye. Tries to see if there’s an underlying message there. But Steve is smiling over Tommy’s shoulder at something.

“We?” Tommy repeats.

“Me and my husband,” Steve says distractedly, like the word doesn’t fucking—doesn’t take Tommy out at the knees.

“Your…what?” he asks blankly.

Except Steve is full-out grinning now and raises his voice to shout, “speak of the devil!”

Someone slides past Tommy, all leather and hair and chains and throws an arm around Steve’s shoulders.

“And the devil shall appear,” Eddie Munson crows.

Eddie. Munson.

Who looks much the same as he did in high school, albeit with more tattoos and scars down his neck and arm that look strangely similar to the scars on Steve’s arm. Tommy gets stuck for a moment comparing them before he notices something else.

Eddie’s left hand is hanging down to cup Steve’s pec. And there’s a gold wedding band, stark amongst the other silver rings on his hand. It matches the one Steve’s wearing.

“What the fuck,” he says quietly.

“Well, shit,” Eddie says. “Hagan, did we break you?”

Steve purses his lips. “Let’s just give him a minute to process.” He turns to face Eddie fully, speaking quietly into the pocket of space between them. “You still sure?”

“I am literally grabbing your boob right now, I don’t know how much more obvious a claim I can stake here unless you want me to stick my tongue in your mouth. Which even I find ill-advised in this particular setting.”

“Just saying. Rental car doesn’t have a bat in the trunk and we’ve both had too many concussions already.”

“Like we haven’t been up against far worse odds and survived. Don’t worry, Stevie, I’ll protect your pretty head. So would Hagan, I bet. He owes us. Right?”

Tommy thinks he might be dead. That his plane went down and this is some sort of death-bed hallucination.

But then again, if this was something his brain had engineered, he’d be the one holding on to Steve’s pec.

Eddie’s looking at him like he's fully aware of what Tommy is thinking.

“Say,” Eddie says quietly, not exactly mean, but certainly not friendly, “did you know that shit you two used to get up to was actually really gay?”

“I…figured that out,” he says faintly, “yeah.”

“Makes the things you used to call me feel a little hypocritical now in retrospect, huh?”

“Yeah,” he repeats, and then, with remembered urgency: “I’m not out.”

The edge to Eddie’s expression softens. “No kidding, buddy. You’re safe with us. Despite the fact that you were a grade A asshole to me and, more importantly, you broke Stevie’s heart a little.”

“He was just apologizing for that.” Steve says.

“I don’t—how long have you two—“

“Eight years,” Steve says.

“Three months, one week and four days,” Munson adds, drumming his fingers on Steve’s collarbone.

“But who’s counting,” Steve says fondly.

“Me,” Munson says, “obviously.”

“Eight years,” Tommy repeats.

“Three months, one week and four days,” Munson repeats.

“How?”

“An excellent, and fair, question,” Munson says, gesturing to himself. “Considering.”

“Eddie,” Steve says warningly.

Munson rolls his eyes. “I fell for him, oh, I’d guess about the same time you did, Tommy boy. Took him a few years to catch up to me, but after my heroic actions during the, uh, earthquake the year after you left, he tended my wounds and I won him over with my subtle wit and ebullient charm.”

“You are a delight,” Steve says. Tommy thinks he’s trying to be sarcastic but he doesn’t pull it off very well.

“And then,” Eddie drops his voice, leaning into Tommy, dragging Steve with him since they’re still attached, “I kept him ensorcelled with my sexual prowess.”

“Eddie,” Steve hisses.

“Yes dear?”

It is, unfortunately, all too easy for Tommy to picture them…together. He can feel his face flushing, something he’d always hoped he’d grow out of and never did.

“You got anyone in your life, now?” Steve asks, earnest as ever.

“Not currently, no. Are you really––are you just. Out?”

“Not always,” Steve says. He reaches up, touches the ring on Eddie’s hand like it’s a habitual gesture. “But we’ve got the privilege of not having to hide in our daily life. Makes us a little more stupid when we go other places.”

“A little more brave, darling,” Eddie murmurs. “We’re calling it bravery.”

“You’re calling it bravery.”

“Well,” Tommy says. “I’m here for you. I guess.” He hasn’t been in a fight in a while but he figures it’s like riding a bike. And Eddie is right. He does owe them. Then again, looking around the gym, he doesn’t think anyone here would risk a fight with them anyway. Over half the people present probably still think Munson is a serial killer.

“Just as I suspected,” Munson says. “Welcome to the team.”

“The team?”

Eddie gestures behind him with the hand that isn’t still clamped on Steve’s chest. “Gareth and the boys are in the old Hellfire room, Jonathan should be here in another ten minutes, Nance was talking to someone in the parking lot last I saw her and Robin is––”

“Present!” Robin Buckley chorales, skipping forward to crash into Eddie’s back. She presses an obnoxious kiss first to Eddie’s cheek, and then shoves her face in between their heads to get to Steve’s. She narrows her eyes at Tommy.

“Hagan.”

“Buckley.”

Her eyes narrow even further. “Tommy Hagan knows my name,” she says, sotto voice to Eddie. “Should we find this suspicious?”

“Steve was friends with you senior year,” Tommy explains. And that’s probably saying too much, but he’s already clearly lost his footing in this conversation.

“Mm,” she agrees. “I sure was. Since other people ditched him for showing a modicum of moral backbone.”

“He was just apologizing for that,” Steve says.

“Good.”

Tommy remembers the beer in his hand with relief. He drains half of it.

“Shall we mingle?” Eddie murmurs, sounding far too excited about the prospect.

“As you wish,” Steve says magnanimously.

Tommy follows them.

***

He has fun, is the thing.

And he doesn’t have to fight anyone.

Eddie is actually kind of hilarious, walking a tightrope between goading and endearing. And Robin—she’d give some of the guys at his firm a run for their money in quick-witted comebacks. She also can dance, which Tommy finds out about ten minutes after the shitty band starts playing and she grabs his hand, asking if he still knew how to lindy hop. And he does, he just has no idea how she knew that he knew and he doesn’t get the chance to ask before she’s dragging him to the middle of the pathetic dance floor. They stay there for a while, garnering praise and envious glances and they keep an eye out for Eddie and Steve but it’s become clear that no one is going to try and start something. Even the guys who sneer at them when their backs are turned aren’t willing to say anything to their faces. Separately, they’re impressive enough, but together, they’re imposing. And they both move with just a hint of something dangerous in their posture. Something…feral. Maybe. His eyes keep lingering on their scars. They aren’t knife wounds. He’s seen those. These look like teeth. But that doesn’t make any sense.

Regardless, as the night starts to wind down, he’s pretty sure it’s the most fun he’s had in years. He never could have imagined when he was booking his tickets that he would end up sitting on the bleachers with Robin Buckley leaning against his arm, watching as Eddie Munson—who had cajoled or possibly bribed, the band to let him borrow their guitar—plays an unhinged metal cover of Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! by ABBA.

When he finishes, Eddie gives a flourishing bow, returns the guitar, and then steps directly into Steve’s arms, hands bracketing Steve’s neck, leaning in to kiss him like they don’t give a fuck they’re in the middle of Hawkins Indiana.

It’s—Jesus.

He doesn’t know what it is.

But it sure is something.

“Gentlemen,” Robin calls, “shall we adjourn? Hop and Joyce are waiting and it’ll be their bedtime in another hour.”

“Hop?” Tommy asks.

“Chief Hopper,” Robin explains. “He’s basically Steve’s adopted father. Well. One of them, anyway.”

“Oh,” Tommy says faintly. “Does he…know?”

“For sure. He’s cool as a cucumber. Been to visit us in California at least once a year since we moved.”

“Didn’t he arrest Munson multiple times?”

“Eh, water under the bridge. They’re best buds, now. They talk on the phone every Sunday while Eddie works in the garden. And Eddie is the planner, so he’s the one that schedules their visits. They conspire to keep Steve happy and healthy.”

“That’s…good.” Tommy says.

“It is.”

Robin pats his arm, pulling him to stand with her. “You know, you could visit us too, if you wanted. Eddie and Steve have a guest bedroom and my girlfriend and I have a very nice pull-out couch.” She eyes him seriously, the levity leaving her voice. “You used to mean something to Steve,” she says, “maybe you could again. If you wanted.”

He does.

He watches Eddie swing Steve around in a farce of a Waltz, both of them laughing. He watches Nancy and Jonathan join them—Nancy leading. He glances at Robin beside him. He thinks he might want to mean something to all of them. If that’s an option.

“Are you serious?” He asks.

“Yeah, of course.”

“That would be nice,” he says.

Eddie and Steve draw even with them, still laughing, fingers linked together.

“Hagan,” Eddie says. “When’s your flight out?”

“Not until tomorrow night,” he says.”I’m staying at the Greenbriar.”

“Good, you’re coming with us to Hopper’s, then.”

He meets Eddie’s eyes. He can’t exactly read what’s there, but he’s grateful for whatever it is.

“I’d like that.” He says.

They emerge into the parking lot with a burst of cool evening air and Tommy inhales slowly, face tipped up to the sky. For all the perks of New York, you certainly didn’t get stars like this there.

“I’m riding with Hagan,” Robin says.

“I’m riding—“ Eddie starts, but he doesn’t get to finish because everyone present aside from Tommy starts shouting over him.

Steve leans in, presses his face into Eddie’s hair and says something that makes him cackle.

“We’ll see you there,” he shouts to no one in particular, “maybe a couple minutes late, though.”

“And this is why I’m riding with you,” Robin says. “Also why you might want to stay with me if you visit. They got comfortable in the honeymoon phase and decided to never leave which is, you know, great for them and really fucking annoying for everyone else.”

Tommy unlocks his rental but can’t seem to stop watching as Steve and Eddie approach their own car—Steve exaggeratedly opening the door for Eddie while Eddie pretends to swoon.

He watches as King Steve and Eddie the freak Munson peel out of the Hawkins High parking lot, windows down, a guitar riff blaring, hands linked on the gearshift.

Robin Buckley is in his passenger seat, messing with the radio and giving him largely unhelpful driving directions to Chief Hopper's house.

This is not what he expected from this trip.

But he’s not at all upset about it.

Not at all.

He’s become pretty jaded in the last few years; a combination of his job, politics, romantic encounters, and existing, in general. But watching Steve and Eddie’s taillights fade as they turn onto the main road, Tommy thinks that maybe he still believes in happy endings.

#steddie #steddie fic #outsider pov #outsider pov steddie #myfic #steve harrington/eddie munson #eddie/steve #stranger things #tommy hagan

234 notes · View notes

firstofficerwiggles · 1 year

Note

Love a good Thots weekend!!

Ever since we got a glimpse of Din’s house on Nevarro I’ve been obsessed with domestic thoughts. Thinking about a little moment like Din crowding you up against the kitchen counter, pushing his nose into your cheek, and kissing that sensitive spot behind your ear. Then those big hands grabbing your hips, spinning and lifting you up on to the counter before making out and maybe a little dry humping like horny teenagers 🫠

Listen, once I stopped crying tears of joy that Din and Grogu finally have a real home of their own, I immediately started picturing all kinds of romantic little scenes of domestic bliss for Din and his spouse (aka us). After the last few years, Din deserves to enjoy himself and cuddle up with his love as much as he can.

Pairing: Din Djarin x female reader

Rating: T+ (18+ to be on the safe side here – no sex, but definitely some spiciness)

Mando’a words: riduur = spouse, cyare = beloved, cyar’ika = sweetheart

You’re standing at your sink in your new kitchen, your hands full of soapy dishes as you look out the window at the sunlight on the flowers you and your husband planted the other day. A soft breeze blows in, stirring your cheerful curtains. Music floats through the air, one of your favorite tunes that makes your hips sway to the rhythm. You’re in your own bubble of happiness, enjoying the precious gift of domesticity.

Din watches you from the doorway of your small house. He’s just returned from a mission with Captain Teva where he helped break up a spice smuggling ring. Wanting to surprise you, he had let you think he had an errand to run before coming home. It was worth it, he thinks, to have this chance to see you like this so content and carefree. He’s never seen anything more beautiful.

Quietly, he slides his helmet off, placing it carefully on a table by the door. His gloves follow, leaving his hands bare. Then, using his stealthiest of steps, he sneaks up behind you. Those large hands of his close around your hips and he presses his body against yours. His nose nuzzles into your skin just behind your ear as he murmurs to you in that deep husky baritone,

“I missed you, riduur.”

You startle and gasp at first, dropping the dish you’re washing into the sink. But when you hear his voice, you melt into his embrace. His big warm body feels so good on yours, even with some of his beskar in the way.

“Din, you’re finally back,” you breathe out, so delighted to have him home.

His hands move around your waist to hug you tighter for a moment as his lips trail feather soft kisses along your neck.

“Where’s Grogu?” you ask. Despite your worries about a dangerous mission, Din had brought your son along with him as part of his training.

“He’s visiting Grandpa Greef for the evening,” Din replies, “I thought it would be good for them to spend some time together.”

Din’s hands move over your body, softly squeezing your curves. One hand manages to find the hem of your top and he slips his hand under the fabric so he can feel the warm silkiness of your skin against his.

“How nice of Grandpa Greef,” you chuckle, “I hope he has plenty of snacks.”

Grabbing a nearby towel, you quickly dry your hands, and then turn in your husband’s arms so you can look into the handsome face of the love of your life. It still takes your breath away to see him. Those tousled curls, scruffy jaw, full lips, and warm brown eyes are the best view in the entire galaxy. Especially right now, as he looks at you with such desire you feel as though you might burst into flames on the spot.

“How did I get so lucky to find you, cyare?” you ask in wonder.

“I’m the lucky one,” he replies, “I married the prettiest, smartest, best girl in the galaxy.”

He nudges you with his leg, shifting you away from the sink. You move with him, turning slightly. He surprises you yet again when he reaches down to hold tighter to your hips before lifting you up to sit on the counter. His hands find your knees and he gently pushes your legs open so that he can stand between them.

You reach up to play with one of the errant curls on his forehead, before caressing his temple and cheek. When your hand lands on his jaw and you lean forward, Din closes the distance between you as his lips find yours. His kiss is tender at first, his mouth moves softly over yours in a delicate dance. One of his hands is at the back of your neck and he uses it to tilt your head a bit, giving him an even better angle. As he does so, the kiss turns heated, his tongue delves into the warm cavern of your mouth and he sears his lips to yours.

You wrap your legs around his hips, tugging him closer to you. You kiss him back with equal passion, your own tongue exploring his mouth, relearning its favorite path after your time apart. Your hands tangle into the curls at the nape of his neck, your nails scratching lightly at his scalp.

Din groans into your mouth, but doesn’t break the kiss. His hands return to your hips and he pulls you forward until there’s no space between you. He kneads your soft flesh as he grinds his hips into your core. He swallows the gasps you make as his body discovers the sensitive parts of yours.

You have to break the kiss for a moment to moan sweetly. The rush of feeling him between your legs, hard and hot, has your head spinning. You move your hips with his, seeking more friction and moaning again when he kisses your neck.

“Ah, Din, cyare, do you think maybe we should take this to the bedroom?” you suggest as his hands make their way under your top and across your chest.

“What’s wrong with right here?” he questions, “We have the whole house to ourselves, and I think it’s about time we take advantage of all this space.”

“But really, Din, in the kitchen?” you ask.

“Riduur, by the time we’re done, we’ll be able to look at any spot in this house and have a memory of our love.”

He says this with such determination that you swoon into him, your lips crashing into his as you kiss him fiercely. When you break apart again, you tell him,

“Yes, let’s fill this house with love.”

“We already have, cyar’ika, but I’m happy to do it again.”

Send in your thots! One more day of thot weekend!

@boomtowngirl @kavecika @becks-things @mysticalgalaxysalad @catsnkooks @starlightrows @tailorvizsla @bitchin-beskar @lilhawkeye3 @acourtofsnakes @grogusmum @buzzybeebee @deannie13 @ladykatakuri @noodlesfics @the-good-shittt @princessxkenobi @everythingyouwanted @jewfro24 @vaderthepotater @pinkiemme @laichka @elinedjarin @myeternalsin @kazthedestroyer @writeforfandoms @startrekkingaroundasgard @onabouteverything @beskarmermaid @flightlessangelwings

#din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #thots weekend

166 notes · View notes

milawritesstuff · 1 year

Text

I Almost Do (Pedri’s Version)

A/N: This is the second part to “Babe (Pedri’s Version)”

Hope you guys like it. 🫶🏼

•••

It had been a few weeks since you had left Pedri. You were okay, but you were not fine at all. You had settled yourself in a small apartment across town, avoiding everything that had to do with him. Everytime you went out hoping you didn't run into him. The first few weeks your phone wouldn't stop ringing, you didn't dare answer because you knew hearing him once again would destroy you.

He no longer tried to excuse his actions, he just pled that you could look past them and return to him. But you couldn't.

The nights were the most difficult. You sat in your living room almost in silence with memories of him going through your mind. You remembered how the two of you would sit by the window facing the city lights, next to each other and talk about your future, now nonexistent. You smiled as you remembered how the two of you would sit there at the end of the week after a long week of practice for him, getting ready and dreaming of the weekend matches. You wondered if he was doing the same, but now without you by his side. You wondered how he had been doing, you hadn't even looked at Barça news because you didn't want to care anymore. He didn't deserve it.

His messages continued to come in sporadically. Wondering if you hated him, if you had already moved on because he said he couldn't. No replies from you. And you were sure your silence, to him, meant that yes you hated him, that you had moved on. The thought that you were too broken to have contact with him and risk to be destroyed again never going through his mind.

Instead he spent his nights wide awake, not knowing how he would ever get his life back. The sudden taste of regret hitting him every time he opened the door to his apartment, instinctively wanting to yell out "Babe." Sometimes catching himself before he did, other times catching himself once silence was all that responded to his call. Regretting every waking moment for having let a second of desire make a decision for him that shattered you. The way her hands moved across his body, her lips on his, knowing now they hadn't been worth losing you forever.

He held on to the paper ring you left that night. He knew he was being delusional thinking maybe one day he would be able to give it back to you. That he would get to hold your hand again, hear your voice, your laugh, your moans as he made you his over and over again.

But deep down he knew it would never happen. He sat there now with ice wrapped around his hand from having hit the wall with his fist. Wishing someone had done that to him before he made the decision that ended it all between the two of you.

Every time he stepped out onto the field looking up to find you, only to be greeted with people who could never replace you. And killing bin self for not realizing sooner that nobody could or would be able to replace you. Unfortunately now too late.

"Pedro Gonzalez." The ten year old boy extended his hand out to greet you. You smiled as you felt butterflies in your stomach. Nine year old you falling in love for the first time with the brown eyed boy in front of you. Part of you feels like you should have known at the time that you would curse him for the longest time. But you didn't. You opened your heart and let him settle in it.

You smiled at the memory of your first kiss, the two of you sneaking out to the beach at night while your parents slept, your feet in the sand and his hand slowly creeping over to hold yours. The sound of waves crashing in the distance which weren't loud enough to mask the beating of your hearts which felt like they would explode out of your chests. You turned around and he smiled, him unsure of what he was feeling just like you. Two kids experiencing love for the first time. "Te quiero." He had said as you looked up at his beautiful brown eyes illuminated by the moon light. Your lips touched and you felt those butterflies again. From that day on sneaking out almost every night to place a small kiss on each other's lips. At the time, that being enough.

You remembered the first time the two of you made love, years later. The way his nervous hands moved up and down your body as if he wanted to remember all of your curves for the rest of his life. The first for each other. The way he nervously laughed because neither of you knew what to do but somehow you managed, it was as if your bodies had been made for each order. Until they weren't.

You remembered the feeling of an impending loss when he told you he was moving to Barcelona. The pit in your stomach as you knew you were losing him and that he was never truly yours. The way you feared a goodbye from that boy that had inadvertently taught you to love.

The way you felt at ease when he asked you to move with him and you didn't dare think twice, you didn't think about your family, your schooling, or anyone else but him. Too bad he hadn't done the same. And then when you least expected you had to face the hardest goodbye of your life. The one that broke you, that completely changed your life. And you had him to thank for it, the one you loved, the one who let you down.

And everyday, while he thought you had moved on, you wished you could run back to him. That your dreams were true. Every time you closed your eyes to sleep you saw his face. Him touching your face and asking you to try again, this time forever. And you knew that if they were true you would stupidly go back to him knowing well it wouldn't be forever. That you would face another goodbye down the road and every time it would hurt more than the one before. Every night hoping that instead of laying in your empty and cold bed you would be back with him, in his arms in the bed you shared so many memories.

You stared at the white wall in front of you. Tears coming down your face, because since the day you had left him every night ended like this. You in tears longing for his touch, his warmth. You had erased all of the pictures from your phone except for one, this one showed his arms wrapped around you with a smile on his face, the smile you missed coming home to. The smile you knew damn well had gotten that girl to fall for him too.

The silence that overtook your apartment was interrupted with one single ring from your phone. You looked and opened to his message threat, the countless of messages he had sent that had gone unanswered. Your eyes filled with tears. Wishing you could tell him that every time you didn't answer him, every time you didn't go look for him, you almost did because you still loved him. And that all that held you together these days was knowing that he still wondered about you.

-I was so stupid, I miss you.-

-Please talk to me.-

-None of this matters if you're not with me.-

-I don't want to go on without hearing your voice again.-

-Please come back.-

And despite every cell in your body wanting to answer him. Telling him you missed him too, that you longed to hear his voice, his laugh that filled your heart, that nothing mattered anyone because he was gone, that you wanted to come back, you knew not to. You knew it was probably better off this way, to continue seeing his eyes and feeling his hands in your dreams even if when you woke up the man you had fallen in love with was forever gone.

TAG LIST: @cinderellawithashoe @httpswiftie @simpingmyassoff @bubblebeep69 @fictional-l0v3r @httpspedri26 @0alanasworld0 @l0verl4ne @gaviypedrisbride @footballerficsposts @fashphotolife @beaschampagneproblems @jvsgnjrtpdar5stkd-tv-m @ikkehehe @jjishotasf @quemirasboboandapaya @maricciardo @gaviswh0re @pedriwifefrfr @dustell @elijahslover @formula1mount

#pedri gonzalez #pedri #pedri imagine #pedri x reader #pedro gonzalez #pedri is so damn hot #pedri blurb #pedri requests #pedri fluff #pedri headcanon #pedri fanfic #pedri angst #pedri x y/n #pedri x you #Babe (Pedri’s Version)#Spotify

228 notes · View notes

thenewausten · 1 month

Text

A letter to you, with Quackity. [Part 2]

Part 1: here!

"Alex,

Wow. I wasn't expecting this letter, and no, I didn't get mad with my best friend for her giving you my new address, it's okay!

First of all, uh, I don't know what to say. Like, I really don't. I didn't know you were dating, and I didn't know you still love me. Our relationship ended so fast and so suddenly, like, we both had our problems at that time, right?!

As you said, I didn't know how to speak for myself, I was just too young to understand that, in a relationship, we need to have conversations that might be uncomfortable.

It's not easy to have 18 years old and study to be a doctor and it wasn't easy for you to have 18 and study to be a lawyer. I don't blame myself, but I don't blame you either for our mistakes. We're just too young.

I, sometimes, still think about you, still think about that time of our lives. And of course I still remember it all, I, actually, remember it all too well. All our conversations about our futures, the making out on your car and the parties we went together. We'd laugh so hard and have so much fun, I wish it had never ended, you know?!

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and look to my boyfriend, wondering: What if it were you in his place?! I can't help myself, I feel guilty, but it just appears in my mind and there's nothing I can do about it.

Our relationship was very great to me, you were very great to me, Alex. No man I've ever met has treated me as well as you did at that time. Of course, my boyfriend treats me well, but... I don't want to talk about it, but I can say it's not the way you treated me.

I can relate to you when you say you look for me at your girlfriend's eyes. I look for you at the eyes of my boyfriend and when I listen to his beating heart when I lay on his chest, but even the sound of his heart is different. It's not like yours.

It's crazy, right? You meet someone once and then this person lives with you for the rest of your life, even when this person is already gone. Somehow, she does it, and the feeling's ravishing.

Alex, you'll live forever with me. On my heart. There's a special place for you here, for everything we passed together, for all of our beautiful moments, our crazy moments, the laughs and even the fights became a treasure to me. Something that not even the time can erase.

I must admit it, I love you too, 'Lex (do you remember this nickname???). I think I will always love you. Time will pass, five years will become ten years and I'll still love you.

We used to watch "Dirty Dancing" almost every weekend and I can say that I've had the time of my life with you, boy. You know, I'd give a lot of things to dance to this song with you again, in your college bedroom. Do you remember the Pulp Fiction poster of your friend on the wall? I accidentally tore it when you tried to spin me. We laugh so much that day and I still think your friend hates me for the poster, I never had the chance to buy him another one.

Alex, I want you to write for me again, please, do it! I never went after you because I thought you had forgotten me, not because I'm angry with you or something. I could never be angry with you, silly!

I'm happy, and I hope you're happy too, because you deserve it so much!

Thank you for everything, but most importantly, thank you for saying that my Facebook posts are funny, I'm glad you laughed with it!!!

We can meet again, but please, not in a hospital, I already work on there. When I go to LA to visit my family I'll send you a message (or a letter). ;)

I love you, 'Lexie!

Y/N."

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy the writing! :)

Requests are open!

#quackity #qsmp #qsmp brazil #quackity imagines #alex quackity #qsmp brasil #quackity x reader #quackity imagine #quackity x y/n #quackity x you #quackity fluff #quackity fanfic #quackity headcannons #quackityhq #qsmp quackity #quackity scenario

32 notes · View notes

rose-pearls · 1 year

Text

Did you at least think of me when you were with her? - Prompt

Prompt: Did you at least think of me when you were with her?

Maverick had always been a reckless pilot, chasing the speed and the freedom of the skies. You met him before he went to Top Gun and immediately fell for the dark-haired pilot with mischievous green eyes. He wasn’t interested at first but slowly started talking more with you and by the end of the mission you were going out on a date. Everything went well, you had often missions together as you had flown well together and it made it easier to be together.

Goose had been the most supportive person when you started dating and often tried to give you time together. Maverick was an attentive boyfriend, always with his arm around you and trying to get you into his mischief. The two years flew by, and you still felt as in love as you were when the relationship started, maybe even more as you could see yourself starting a life with Maverick.

Top Gun came along, and he had to leave but you couldn’t have been prouder of him, he was going to be one of the one percent. It was still hard to watch him and Goose leave, you had become so used to be with them that it was going to feel weird not seeing them every day.

“I promise you I’ll keep him in line.”, Goose said with a confident smile as he pats your shoulder while trying to escape Maverick’s slap.

“Be careful you two and show them what you’ve got.”, Maverick smirked, and you knew he wasn’t going to be as careful as he should but that was Maverick. After a long kiss where Goose started making disgusted noises Maverick kissed you one last time before leaving, sending you a wink over his shoulder.

You tried to call daily to try and have some time with Maverick but through the weeks he started being distant, not really answering any calls. The guy you had on the line today was Iceman, who Maverick hated if you remember correctly from his first call.

“Sorry, he isn’t there at the moment, but I’ll tell him you called.”, the guy sounded sorry, and you could feel the pity, it had been the third time you called this week and every time it was Iceman who picked up the phone.

“No worries. Thank you for your help.”, you didn’t know what to do, you were lost in your head and worried about what was happening to Maverick that you hadn’t even heard that Ice hadn’t stopped the call.

“If it makes it any better, you deserve better then how he is treating you.”, the words felt like a slap, and you had to take a deep breath.

“He is just not around when I call, it is probably nothing, you don’t have to assume the worst.”, you tell Ice with a hard voice, annoyed that the man would say such things about Maverick, but you only heard a sigh.

“Alright, I’ll tell him you called.”, you thank him and end the call, sitting down on your couch, wondering what was happening.

The next time you felt like you had been slapped in the face had been when Carol told you that there was a family weekend at base and Maverick hadn’t bothered to tell you the only time you had him on the line. You decided to go with Carol to help her with Bradley and see Maverick, hoping that this was all a misunderstanding.

Goose and Maverick were at the airport waiting for the two of you and you had to stop yourself from smiling as Bradley ran to his father with a bright smile. Maverick greeted you but it lacked the usual grin and long kiss that he usually would give you, but you ignored it.

Top Gun was beautiful, and you couldn’t help but feel breathless at the sight, hoping that one day you would be able to come here. Goose was giving you a tour and made you all laugh at his detailed explanation of the food that they were served until you met two men in a flight suit.

“Ice, Slider, thought you would be off base.”, the taller of the two rolls his eyes at Goose’s words but a smile can be seen.

“Some people have to work, unlike the two of you.”, Maverick scoffs and you can feel the tension in the air between the pilots.

“And who are you lovely ladies?”, Carole smiles brightly at the man and you catch the gaze of the blond, he has frosty tips in his hair, and you guess that the is the infamous Iceman.

“This is my wife Carole, and this is Maverick’s girlfriend Y/N.”, Goose quickly says with a smile before taking Bradley into his arms and introducing him. Ice seems to have recognized you and the both of you look at each other for a moment before Slider talks.

“It was nice to meet you ladies and little guy, but we need to go shower.”, we quickly say goodbye and leave the two aviators, but you can’t help the unease at Ice’s eyes, like he feels sorry for something.

The rest of the morning is spent at the base until Goose suggests going to eat at a little diner. Maverick is quiet which is rare, and you try to talk to him but only get a few short answers. The diner is old, but you can’t help but love it and Maverick seems to be more relaxed and seems to talk more. You try to ignore the bad feeling that you have, but it seems to stick around as you all start eating.

At one point a blond woman appears, with red lips and you can’t help but think that she is gorgeous. She looks surprised to see you and offers you one of the fakest smiles you have ever seen but the cold shower comes when Maverick spents the rest of the time talking to her, when he didn’t even utter three words directly to you. Carole looks at you with raised eyebrows and worry in her eyes, but you shake your head, trying to ignore the stinging in your eyes.

Goose drags you all to the O’club where apparently the whole Navy always goes, and you try to tell yourself that there isn’t something between Charlie and Maverick, but they seem far too close to be colleagues. Carole and Goose go dancing and before you can try to ask Maverick if he wants to dance, he is gone and nowhere in sight. The bar is crowded but you manage to find a stool and ask for the strongest thing they have.

“He is an idiot you know that right?”, you sigh at the voice, the one you only heard through the phone before and turn to look at Ice.

“What do you mean?”, the pilot looks at you with striking blue eyes and a frown before sitting down next to you.

“He has a beautiful girlfriend who tries to call him every day or every week and still doesn’t even have the decency to be here when you come to visit.”, you know that he is right, that Maverick is treating you in a shitty way, but you do love him.

“It’s just the distance, makes it hard.”

“Normally it makes the heart grow fonder, or so I’ve heard.”, you can’t help the smile that appears at Ice’s words.

“I just don’t know what to do, he is far away, and I don’t know how to go back to how things were.”, you don’t know why you would tell that to the man next to you, probably because of the alcohol but as you look into his blue eyes you feel safe.

“You can never really go back to how things were, but you are doing everything right, he is the one being an idiot.”, you nod, but the words confuse you, you don’t know what to think anymore. You look around the bar and try to find the blond woman that joined you at the dinner, but you can’t see her, an uneasy feeling starts to rise.

“Can I ask you something?”, he seems surprised at your words but looks at you with an earnest look.

“Anything.”, you take a deep breath before drinking half of your drink.

“Is there something between Maverick and that woman, Charlie?”, you know that Ice got his callsign because he was ice-cold and showed nothing but at your question an array of emotions pass by. The one that sticks around is guilt and you immediately now what he is going to say but you need to hear him say it.

“Ice, please.”, you whisper, and the pilot releases a sigh before looking you into your eyes.

“They have been fooling around.”, there it was, the reason why Maverick hadn’t responded to your calls, ignoring you for the blond and trying to get you away from him. You felt sick, like you were going to throw up any moment now.

“How long?”, Ice sighs and you look at him with tearful eyes.

“Three weeks.”, you can’t breathe at his words and close your eyes, a few tears leaving. A warm hand rubs your back and you open your eyes to see Ice look at you with guilty eyes.

“I’m so sorry, you deserved to know.”, you nod slowly and look at him gratefully.

“Thank you, for telling me the truth. Guess I should’ve listened to you two weeks ago.”, Ice chuckles but his sad eyes tell you everything.

“Would’ve preferred if I was wrong in this case.”, you nod and try to swallow the lump down your throat, but you know you need to see Maverick.

“You know where he is?”, the pilot nods and tilts his head toward the woman bathroom and you scoff, feeling the anger take over.

You leave your seat and say a quick thank you to Ice before going towards the bathroom and barging in. the sight that greets you is Charlie coming out of a cabin with red lipstick everywhere, trying to button up her blouse and a disheveled Maverick coming out.

“Looks like you two were busy in there.”, they both turn to look at you, like deer’s caught in a headlight and you look at them with anger, disgust in your eyes.

“I can explain.”, Maverick says after a few seconds and you laugh, but no humor can be found in it.

“I’m sure you can.”, Charlie tries to leave but you stop her.

“I hope you liked your job because first thing I’m doing in the morning is telling the captain how his instructor is having a relationship with a student.”, she looks scared and you can’t help but feel satisfied, even if it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. You let her go and turn around to see Maverick, who is looking at you with pleading eyes.

“Don’t even try to tell me some bullshit excuse, I know that you have been seeing her for three weeks.”, you say as Maverick tries to talk and he takes a deep breath.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”, you scoff at his words, and he looks at you in surprise.

“You didn’t mean to hurt me, but you went behind my back and cheated.”, he flinches, like you just slapped him, but you can’t stop.

“You were shoving down your tongue down her throat while I was there in the bar waiting for you. You ignored my calls for weeks and when I come and see you, you ignore me for another woman. Did you at least think of me when you were with her?”, Maverick has tears in his eyes and you feel sick, tears streaming down your face and your voice hoarse from screaming.

When Maverick tries to open his mouth, you shake your head and look at him disgusted.

“Save it, I don’t even want to know it. We’re done.”, you said with a final tone before turning back to leave the bathroom.

“I love you. And I know I fucked up but please give me a second chance, I can’t lose you.”, the tears are rolling down your cheeks and you feel like a panic attack is going to come any minute now.

“You should’ve thought about that before going with her. I can’t even look you in the eyes, I don’t trust you anymore.”, tears are falling down his cheeks, but you ignore them as you leave the bathroom, ignoring his pleas.

Carole is outside looking at you with tearful eyes and takes you into her arms, trying to reassure you.

“Ice came to us and told me you needed someone.”, you sob against her shoulder, and she holds you tighter.

“I’m so sorry, you never deserved this.”, Carole whispers soothing words for the next minutes and you sob against her shoulder, trying to breath.

The both of you leave the club and go back to your hotel, she pushes you into the shower and after helping you get into pajamas you lie down next to her in bed.

“I’m sorry.”, you whisper softly, and you feel Carole move closer to you.

“What are you sorry for? You didn’t do anything wrong.”, you look at her and she is looking at you with a motherly gaze.

“You wanted to see Goose and now you have to take care of me when you should be with your husband.”, she scoffs, and you look at her surprised.

“Goose is the one that told me to bring you here, so that he could go and scream at Mav, I’ve spent the whole day with him, taking a few hours to help a friend isn’t going to make me lose time with my Goose.”, you nod slowly but the tears fall down at the mention of Maverick and Carole takes you into her arms.

The next morning is a blur, Carole agrees that you should tell the captain that the two have a relationship and when you leave the captain’s office you come face to face with Ice.

“Heard someone was going to cause some drama, had to see it with my own eyes.”, you chuckle and the pilot smiles before looking at you with serious eyes.

“Are you doing, okay? It’s probably a stupid question, but still.”, you chuckle at his words and nod slowly.

“I’ll be fine, just need to get out of here and never see his face again.”, Ice smiles sadly and you take a deep breath.

“Thank you, for telling me. You didn’t have to and yet you still did.”, this seems to surprise the pilot, but he just smiles bashfully.

“Was the normal thing to do, even if it wasn’t something pleasant to say.”, you nod and look at him with a small smile.

“You better win this trophy Iceman.”, he laughs at your words and nods seriously.

“No worries, we are already first place, but I’ll do my best.”, you both laugh softly and as you are ready to leave, Ice looks at you with a shy smile.

“Maybe I could call you to tell you when we win the trophy.”, you felt breathless at his words, and the pilot is blushing as you look at him.

“Sure, let me write the number on a piece of paper.”, you give it to Ice and after saying goodbye you leave the base to join Carole, no Maverick in sight.

“He wanted to come but Goose stopped him.”, you smile thankful at Goose, and he brings you into a tight hug before saying goodbye to Carole and Bradley.

You didn’t really expect a call from Ice and certainly not a week before the trophy was going to be given. What you hadn’t expected at all was a crying Ice telling you about Goose.

#top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun x reader #pete mitchell fanfiction #pete mitchell x y/n #pete maverick mitchell #pete mitchell x reader #maverick fanfic #maverick x y/n #tom iceman kazansky

352 notes · View notes

sequinsmile-x · 1 year

Text

Office Supplies

The only people who don't know Emily and Aaron love each other are Emily and Aaron.

Penelope, and Dave, take decisive action.

-x-

This is a birthday present for @emilyshotchniss! I hope you had a lovely day, and that you enjoy this fic <3

-x-

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: None

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“You should tell him.”

Emily sighs, briefly stopping herself from stirring her coffee, giving herself a moment before she turns back to look at her friend, “Pen, I’m not going to tell him.”

“But you told me.”

Emily throws the spoon she’d been using into the sink and holds her coffee between both her hands, the heat from the mug easier to feel than her frustration towards her friend.

“Yes, because you plied me with absinthe, which may as well be truth serum,” she grumbles, “The combination of you and alcohol can make me admit shit I literally wouldn’t admit under torture.”

Penelope, unbothered by Emily’s bad mood, carries on, “But peaches, you love Hotch-”

“Be quiet,” Emily says through her teeth, looking around to make sure they were still alone, the kitchen in the bullpen still mercifully empty, “We’re at work.”

She’d known it for years. The initial pull in her belly when he was missing after Foyet attacked him, something she had told herself was just concern at the time, morphing into something all-consuming. She’d feel her cheeks get warm whenever he stood too close to her. The smell of his cologne enough to make her lose her chain of thought, the heat that he seemed to have in excess rolling off of him and making her shiver if he so much as put his hand on her back to move past her on the jet.

If there was any part of her that thought it was just about sex she would have jumped him long ago. Let him fuck her against a door or wall, whatever the nearest surface was, to get it, him, out of her system. But it was more than that, it always had been.

She was in love with him. She loved his smile, its rarity making it all the more precious. She loved his dry sense of humour, how he’d use it to disarm the team to make them laugh when they needed it the most. She loved his presence, how she’d feel safe if he just so happened to be in a room.

And she loved how he loved people. The subtle way he looked after them all, and the not-so-subtle way he had saved her life.

In Paris, the feelings she had been able to push down burst into life. Everything that had once seemed to live in a grey area transformed into technicolour, settling into her very bones. Her love for him becoming such a part of her she knows she would never be able to stop. She told herself in Paris, those long, lonely days and nights stretching into an infinity, that if she made it back she’d tell him. That she’d take a gamble on the few moments she wondered if he loved her too. Hazy memories of him visiting her in the hospital, still in the suit from her funeral, that she’d half convinced herself were a dream, leading the charge. His hand tight around hers and his lips against her forehead as he promised her he’d catch Ian.

She didn’t want to do anything when she first got back home partially because she didn’t want him to think that it was out of some kind of gratitude. That he’d saved her life so she wanted to be with him because of it. But also because he deserved better than how she was when she first got home. A shadow of her former self.

By the time she felt ready for it, different than before but better than she had been, he introduced them to Beth. A woman who looked more like her than his ex-wife, and came without any of the complications than she would bring. So Emily did what she’d always done when she’d had her heart broken. She’d watched all the Star Wars movies in one weekend, cried more than she had in a long time and ate her weight in fries and ice cream. Then the next time she saw everyone she was ok again, content for her happy ending with Aaron to exist nowhere but in her fantasies that had never quite come to fruition.

Until a girl's night when she’d drunkenly admitted she was in love with him. Shocking Penelope but apparently not JJ, who claimed she had always known there was something there. Damage control hadn’t worked, and now Penelope brought it up often, sure that Aaron would feel the same way.

“Sorry,” Pen says, leaning in closer and lowering her voice, “I’m just saying-”

“Enough, Pen,” Emily says, sighing when she snaps a little more than she intended to, “It’s…not going to happen. He’s happy with Beth.”

“But he’s-”

“Please,” she pleads with her friend, her eyes flicking to the door to the bullpen as it opens, Aaron flashing her a smile as he walks in. She hates herself for the way her stomach flips, something that once excited her making her feel nauseous, “Please just leave it.”

Penelope sighs, watching as the sadness Emily clearly tries to fight floods her eyes, but she nods, knowing that for now, this wasn’t an argument she was going to win.

“Ok, fine,” Penelope says, reaching out and putting her hand on Emily’s arm, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok,” Emily says, smiling tightly at her friend, “I guess I just missed my chance.”

Penelope watches as she walks away, leaning against the kitchen counter, blowing out a steady breath as she spots Dave arriving for the day.

“Time to bring in the big guns,” she mutters to herself, an idea already forming in her head.

___

Emily groans as the looks at the clock, the time dragging on in a way that almost made her wish for a case. Her cell phone screen lights up, and Pen’s name along with a text message flashes up at her.

Can you do me a favour?”

Emily raises an eyebrow and types out her response. Favours for Penelope could range from the obscure to the barely legal, so she was hesitant to agree to anything without further detail.

What kind of favour?

The response is immediate as if Penelope had never put her phone down whilst she waited for a reply.

Can you get me some sticky notes from the supply closet? I’m all out.

Pretty please. I’ll owe you forever.

Emily sighs and shakes her head, already standing up as she replies.

You’re lucky I’m bored. The brightly coloured ones?

She smiles as she gets a response, slipping her phone into her back pocket once she’s read it.

You know me so well.

She’s distracted as she walks to the supply closet, not paying attention as she opens the door and then closes it behind her again, almost jumping out of her skin when she realises she’s not alone in the tiny room.

“Shit,” she exclaims, her hand over her heart as Aaron turns to face her, his eyes wide as she clearly surprises him too, “Sorry,” she says, clearing her throat, “I wasn’t expecting to see you in here.”

“It’s ok,” he replies, smiling at her, his dimples carved out into his cheeks as well as her heart, “Dave asked me to get some pens for him,” he says, holding up the box in his hand, “Although why he couldn’t get them himself is beyond me.”

She chuckles, “Well, I guess it’s always good to be kind to the elderly.”

Aaron laughs, the bright sound that made her heart swell in her chest, endless thoughts of what could have been enough to make her cry.

“I won’t tell him you said that,” he replies, “What are you here for?”

“Pen needed some sticky notes,” she says, reaching for a box of them from the shelf in between them, “Apparently we both have side gigs as assistants now.”

Any response is cut off by the lock on the door behind her clicking shut, and her eyes go wide, the trap that she had fallen into suddenly clear. She turns around and tries to pull at the door handle, sighing when it doesn’t open.

“Pen, open the door I know you’re out there.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Pen’s muffled voice says through the door, “It must be broken we’ll have to call facilities.”

Emily looks over her shoulder to look at Aaron, his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion and she looks back at the door, “I heard the lock click.”

“Funny,” Dave says, and she closes her eyes, leaning her forehead against the door as she realises Penelope wasn’t doing this alone, “I didn’t. Must be my age.” He quips, letting her know he’d been stood out there the whole time and heard their conversation so far.

“I swear to god, I will kill-”

“We’ll call facilities and get you out of there as soon as we can,” Penelope says, cutting her off before she can finish her threat, “You guys entertain yourself, talk.”

“Penelope,” She warns, but she can already hear footsteps receding, and she knows she and Aaron are alone. She blows out a breath and turns to look at him.

“What was that all about?” He asks, his eyebrows creasing together, and she sighs, running her hand through her hair.

As soon as she was out of here she was going to kill Penelope and Dave.

___

Aaron was in love with her.

He’d known it for years. The safety of her smile, her kindness, the place where he sought sanctuary more often than not. Using her as a sounding board when he needed it, drawn towards her because of more than her obvious beauty.

When he stood over a grave that he knew was empty, he told himself when he got her back, because he’d never been able to think in a world of ‘ifs’ as far as that was concerned, he’d tell her. He’d take a gamble that Dave had always told him was a sure one. His friend always keen to tell him how Emily looked at him when he wasn’t looking.

At first, he knew the timing wasn’t right. That she wasn’t herself, and he wondered if maybe Emily Prentiss had died that day in Boston. He still loved her and he knew he always would, but as time went on he felt more sure that their time had passed. That the closest he’d ever come to telling her how he felt was the kiss against her forehead in the hospital, apologies muttered against her skin.

Meeting Beth had been an accident. She was nice and pretty. Funny. And everything that any man would be lucky to find in a woman. At first, he’d turned down her obvious attempts at flirting, but then eventually he decided to give it a go. Any hopes of a fairy tale ending with Emily gone as soon as he overheard Penelope and JJ talking about Emily being in love with someone enough to convince him to let what had only been a few dates with Beth turn into something more.

“Aaron?”

He stops walking towards his office and turns back to Dave, his friend's use of his name pulling him out of his thoughts, “Yes?”

Dave smiles at him, something in his eyes glinting, “Would you mind doing me a favour?”

___

Emily swallows thickly as she places the sticky notes back down, her arms tight across her chest.

“I…”

She drifts off, unsure how she can get out of this without telling him what she had kept secret for so long, forced into admittance by well-meaning but interfering friends. She knew Penelope and Dave well enough to know that they wouldn’t let them out of here until they deemed the situation solved, or if there was an emergency of some kind. And whilst Emily wasn’t above wishing for a case, she thought there would be some sort of bad karma involved in actively hoping for a major incident.

Aaron frowns, concerned by her uncharacteristic quietness, all of the levity of their conversation before the door locked gone. He places the box of pens down and steps towards her, his hand on her arm. His concern only deepens when she pulls away like she’s been burned, folding further into herself in an attempt to put some space between them in the tiny closet they were in.

“Emily,” he says, his use of her first name purposeful, “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

She looks up at him from where she’d been staring at the floor and her eyes meet his. There’s nothing but understanding in his eyes, and something she daren’t call love.

“I’m worried it will change things,” she says, the words feeling heavy as they leave her chest. A vulnerability that she hated threatening to choke her.

“Well,” he says, stepping back to give her a tiny bit more space, respecting that it was what she needed, “That’s not possible, unless you’re about to tell me you were a spy for another government organisation,” he jokes, offering her a half smile, “In which case I’ll just be more impressed that you found time to do it all.”

She chokes on a laugh and shakes her head at him, “No it’s not…it’s not that, I promise.”

“Then tell me. You’ll feel better,” he says, wanting nothing more than to pull her into a hug, to offer her comfort he’s not sure she wants. She stares at him and blows out a breath, nodding before she looks back down at the floor, unable to look at him as she finally says it out loud.

“A couple of months ago I got drunk on a girl's night and admitted to Pen and JJ that I…that I have feelings for you,” she says quietly, hoping that by some miracle he won’t hear her, “And ever since then Pen has been trying to convince me that I should tell you. Which is why she’s locked us in here,” she keeps staring at the floor, tears gathering in her eyes at the continued silence, a confirmation she hadn’t needed that this was pointless, “I keep telling her that you’re with Beth-”

“I’m not with Beth,” he says, finally finding his voice.

She looks up so quickly her neck hurts, but she barely registers it, “What?”

Aaron clears his throat, the shock of Emily’s confession wearing off as the pieces fall into place. He realises that he was the guy that he overheard JJ and Penelope talking about weeks ago, and he shakes his head at himself.

“I broke up with her a couple of weeks ago,” he says, his hands in his pockets just to do something with them.

“Why didn’t you say something?” she asks, her heart beating so firmly in her chest that she’s sure he might be able to hear it.

“It’s not like it’s some big secret,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders, taking a small step towards her, “Garcia actually found out last night when she asked about my plans, I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.”

Emily chuckles humourlessly as she thinks about that morning, about her friend's seemingly newly revamped attempts to get her to admit to Aaron how she feels about him, and she shakes her head. She looks at him, her arms still across her chest as she tries to heave in a breath, her lungs seemingly full of nothing but him and his cologne because of how close he now was.

“Wh…why did you break up with her?” She asks, not entirely sure if she wanted to know the answer, sure that the hope that was sparking in her belly was nothing more than yet another thing she’d end up being burned by.

Aaron gathers himself, his chest tight with emotions he hadn’t felt since he was a teenager who was about to ask out Haley, the other great love of his life. He reaches out to touch Emily, tucking some hair behind her ear, and her breath catches in her throat, her eyes wide as they meet his.

“Because it didn’t seem fair on either one of us to stay with her when I was in love with someone else.”

His words hang heavily between them, the air thick with opportunity and what could be about to happen. She stares at him, her mouth open slightly as she licks at her lower lip, wetting it in a way she sees him watch.

“Aaron…”

“I thought…” he shakes his head at himself, “I don’t know what I thought. But I’ve always known you could do better than me.”

She frowns, her shock turning into outrage, “That’s not true,” she says, shaking her head fiercely, furious at him for thinking such a thing, “That’s not true,” she repeats. Everything that had happened in the last few minutes had thrown her for a loop, her entire body practically vibrating with things she didn’t understand, every nerve on edge as she came to terms with the conversation they were having. She grabs the lapels of his jacket, her eyes fixed on his tie, “I…I wanted to be better for you. You’ve been through so much, and I didn’t want to add to that burden.”

“Em,” he says, cupping her cheek, making her look back up at him, “I love you,” he says, and she chokes on a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh as she shakes her head, “You could never be a burden.”

She doesn’t know what to say, isn’t sure that there is anything that could be said, so she leans forward, closing the gap between them as she presses her lips against his. Everything else stops, and all she can feel is him. His hand at her cheek, the other pressing into her lower back as he pulls her closer, both of them lost in something they know they have been walking towards for years.

They only pull away when Oxygen becomes necessary, both of them laughing as they lean their foreheads against each other.

“I love you too,” she says, lifting her hand to cup his cheek, her thumb pressing into his lower lip, “I have for a long time.”

“We have a lot to talk about,” he says, kissing her thumb before she removes it, smiling as he leans in to kiss her again, “If we ever get out of here.” She laughs and presses her head into his shoulder, her body feeling light for the first time in as long as she can remember, “Still want to kill them?”

“Maybe not kill,” she says, tilting her head up to look at him, “But I’m sure I’ll think of some kind of revenge.”

Aaron laughs and leans in to kiss her, both of them once again lost in it, in each other, until the door is pulled open and they break apart at the sound of a squeal.

They elope seven months later.

They break the news to Penelope by leaving a photo taken at the courthouse on her desk, along with a message written on a brightly coloured sticky note.

Thank you.

Love, The Hotchners

-x-

Tag list:

@ssa-sparks, @lukeclvez, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @beebeelank, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis-22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex, @prentissxhotch, @emobabeyy, @victoiregranger, @stormyweatherth, @wanderingdreamer009, @ssablackbird, @luhwithah, @lex13cm, @prentiss-theorem, @dont-emily-me, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @jocyycreation, @itsmytimetoodream, @hotchnissgroupie, @controversialpooh, @capsshinyshield, @canuck-eh,

Join my tag list here!

Note: there are now enough people on my tag list that it needs to be done in two parts, so if you aren't tagged straight away you will be tagged as quickly as I can in a reblog :)

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #aaron x emily #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction

108 notes · View notes