#i love hozier i miss him i wonder how he’s doing

[jaylaxies]

ROMAN HOLIDAY

PAIRING: jake x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, slight fluff, protected and unprotected sex, (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), cunnilingus, marking, creampie, mentions of petnames (princess, baby, darling, daddy), lots of kissing and brief mentions of smoking, stealing, running away from cops, drugs, somnophilia (consensual), etc.

WC: 10k words

SYNOPSIS: visiting your grandma’s place was more or less your entire plan for your summer vacations and only break you get before your university starts, although, meeting your neighbour, bickering with him and clutching his hand while running away from cops wasn’t in your bucket list.

PLAYLIST: welcome to wonderland by anson seabra, movement by hozier, if you let me by alina baraz, how to love by jen z, roman holiday by halsey.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, my sweetest angels <3 i'm finally here with a jake fic which was long due! i hope you guys like it <33 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated :D loveyou all <3

Bagging a window seat for a day-long journey sure is a blessing, peculiarly when you have to stay sitting at your spot in a train for a sum of six hours. Nestled in your seat, you sit straighter when the scenic view of the sea water meeting the sky graces your eyes—which you capture on your phone’s camera with a soft smile. 

It felt as if it had been ages since you got out of your room, where you used to be cooped up during the entirety of your day, studying for your final year of school. 

Your parents were concerned. They were highly proud of you for achieving top honours, yes, but it was about time you went out and cherished your life a little before you got winded up in the stress of University yet again, which was to start in one month. 

And what’s a better place to spend your vacations at if not at your granny’s home? 

It was a few minutes past six when you finally reached your desired destination, dragging your luggage behind you as a swish of cold breeze hit you. It looked straight out of a movie with how the train station was lit up by old-fashioned lamps which radiated warmth just by glancing towards them.  

You hugged your cardigan tighter, walking out to find the taxi stand just outside the exit area of the station, pulling out your phone to show the driver the address you’d be meaning to go to. He was a kind man, helping you put your luggage into the trunk of his taxi. Your curious eyes looked out, observing how much the town had changed over the years. 

You were seven when you last visited her hometown. Ever since then, your grandma used to be the one who visited you in the city, at your place, however she did not wish to leave her town and move in with your family. You could see why she chose to stay here—the serene view, the freshness in the air, the tranquil surroundings, it made the corner of your lips curl up into a smile. 

It only got wider once the driver stopped his taxi in front of your grandma’s house. It was exactly how you had remembered it to be—a small but two story house with a big veranda which was lit up by fairy lights on the big bushes. The back door connected the path towards the small pool and then yet another door linked the beach from your backyard. 

Your grandma stood by the door with the fondest smile gracing her ever so beautiful face, a few grey strands fell on her face and you couldn’t help but get out of the taxi and run towards her, capturing her in an embrace. A hearty chuckle filled the air, the scent of your favourite cookies encapsulated you, making you wonder if she had baked a batch just for you as you snuggled further, her hand patting your head exactly the way she used to do ever since you were a kid. 

“I missed you, grandma.” Your expression said it all, and she looked more than happy to usher you in the house, saying how chilly the night was and you made sure to pay the driver, thanking him for his service as you dragged the luggage in. 

A wave of nostalgia hit you as your eyes wandered off to observe each corner, but your grandma didn’t hear any of it, making sure her granddaughter was well fed and rested after the long journey. 

She spent a good while telling you embarrassing stories of your father during dinner, which you listened to with delight, sharing your own stories with zeal before you climbed up the stairs, opening the door to the room you used to use each time you stayed over as a child. 

It didn’t change, the bed was still too big for you, the windows were spotless as if it had been cleaned frequently and the scent of old books paired with a tinge of vanilla filled your senses. Your body felt calm and you couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this way. 

Calling your parents, you updated them by telling you had reached safely as you walked in the balcony, feeling comfortable in a sweatshirt and cotton shorts. The night sky resembled a velvet blanket full of glistening stars. 

However, a figure clad in all black captured your attention. It was a bit beyond one in the morning, which is why it was unsettling to see someone walk in such dim lights. The stranger made his way towards your neighbouring house, making you wonder if he lived there. 

Shrugging, you sighed. Sitting at one place for hours does tire your body, so you proceed to finally get into your cozy bed, setting an alarm before your grandma comes in to check if you require anything. 

“Sweet dreams my little peanut,” your grandma smiled, closing the door behind you as you replied back with a gentle voice. 

“Sweet dreams, Gigi!” It was a nickname you used for her, she found it lovely. 

The placid atmosphere and the distant sound of waves acted as a catalyst to your sleep, and you slept soundly, not knowing that the calmness was just a start to your inevitable venture—something no one could have prepared you for. 

You found yourself walking alongside your Gigi to visit the lady next door in the afternoon. She was a kind soul—as stated by your grandma, not to mention that she treated her like her own family, making sure to provide help whenever she could and that’s the reason why you were going to meet her. 

It wasn’t the first time; apparently you used to play in their veranda a lot as a child, which again, you didn’t remember. However, when the lady—Mrs. Sim, opened the door, the memories came rushing back to you. She was jolly, almost as if she was waiting for your arrival and soon, you were engulfed into a sweet hug. 

She called out your name in sheer excitement, leaning back to take a good look at your face, which sported a silly smile due to embarrassment. 

“Aw, love. You’ve grown into such a pretty young lady,” she gushed, ushering you both inside and into the living room area. 

“And you don’t look a day over twenty, Mrs. Sim,” you replied, not lying considering how youthful she appeared to be. 

Her smile only widened at your comment, “now, another word and I’ll be floating in the clouds,” she said, making you chuckle as you got engaged in a conversation, sipping on the cranberry juice which Mrs. Sim had so kindly offered you. 

It was decided that you’d be having lunch together, and you tried your best to help the two women in the kitchen but you were soon shoved out, saying you don’t have to do a thing and rest—that’s the purpose of your vacations. 

Which made you sit down and use your phone, scrolling through random apps and replying to all the texts. 

“Y/n!” Soon, you were called into the kitchen, and you poked your head in with a smile. 

“Yes, Gigi?” 

“Oh, peanut, can you please go upstairs and call Jake for lunch? It’s almost done.” She asked. 

You tilted your head in confusion, mind wandering back to the guy you had seen last night and you came to the conclusion that Jake might be Mrs. Sim’s son. 

You nodded, heading up the wooden staircase. Would you have to introduce yourself to him? Would it get awkward? You had no clue. 

Knocking on the door twice, you took a step back and patiently waited for the door to open and so, you tried again to no avail. You wondered if he had his headphones on, which left you with no choice but to open the door, peeking in slightly only to find the room empty. 

“Oh,” you let out, closing the door behind you for the sake of privacy. 

“He’s not in his room,” you informed Mrs. Sim. 

She sighed, serving a good portion of food for all of you, “I could have sworn he didn’t go out,” she shook her head as you three sat down. You let the elders start eating first and only then you picked up your chopsticks to do the same. 

“I haven’t seen him in a while, what’s the tough guy up to?” Your Gigi asked. 

“He’s busy enrolling himself into universities,” Mrs. Sim says, a sad smile taking over her face, “he says he doesn’t want to leave me and is aiming for nearby universities.” 

“My my, isn’t he a darling boy?” Your grandma praised while you chewed on your food, which melted right in your mouth, silently eating while hearing them converse. 

It didn’t take long for your grandma to ask them to come over for dinner the very next day, “it’s only fair that I cook for you too,” she argued when Mrs. Sim told her that she shouldn’t bother. 

This time, your grandma let you help with the cooking, and of course, you were sent to invite the Sims over for dinner. You hugged your white cardigan close to your body—the nights tend to get chilly. Walking over to the neighbouring home, you rang the bell and were greeted with the sight of Mrs. Sim, who actually dressed up for the little dinner party. 

“Oh, darling. Can you please call Jake down for dinner too?” She asked you as she was busy tidying up her own kitchen. 

“Of course,” you smiled. 

It was the second time you were heading up the stairs. This time, you were sure you’d be meeting the said boy. You found yourself standing right in front of his room yet again, gulping down your nervousness. It wasn’t as if you weren’t used to introducing yourself to new people, school made sure you knew how to do that, however, your nerves were acting up. 

With a deep breath, you knocked on the door, twice—just like the last time. The difference, however, was that the door was opened in this instance. 

The scent of an intoxicating blend of masculinity and sophistication announced his presence, undertones of musk and wood laced up, providing him a complex aura altogether. 

A tall guy with parted black hair leaned against the doorframe, eyebrow perfectly raised in question, his arms folded as his honey brown eyes with the slightest speckles of gold stared your way, his plump lips soon curling up into what seemed to be an assortment of a smile and a smirk. 

“You must be Y/n,” he stated, standing up straight, which caused his muscles to flex enough to the point it was visible in his white button up. 

You licked your lips unknowingly, moistening them up before you nodded, extending your hand for him to shake, “pleasure meeting you, Jake.” 

His eyes travelled down from your face to your hand, a low chuckle left his mouth, him opening the door and stepping out, coming closer to you as he grabbed your smaller hand in his bigger, warmer ones in a firm handshake. 

“I can see why my mom can’t stop talking about you,” he said, making you tilt your head in question, eyes never leaving his face which was captivating. 

“And why is that so?” You asked, stepping back slightly as he leaned in to whisper in your ear. 

“Because you seem to be a good girl,” he breathed, making you go still as he leaned back with the same smirk, leaving you behind, walking down the stairs. 

Now, you didn’t expect the situation to turn out this way, yet you knew that talking to him further would only cause your head to hurt. 

What even made him think about you being a good girl?

Is it your outfit? Plain, loose jeans paired with a pink top and cardigan. It’s basic enough not to be categorized so easily. 

You scoff to yourself, already hating the situation as you walk downstairs, only to find Jake with a smile that genuinely looked sweet while he talked to his mother, helping her lock the door. 

“I see you met Jaeyun,” she smiled, and you nodded, sitting alongside her, not sparing a glance at the said boy as you didn’t even know his real name was Jaeyun. 

The table was set for four, which made you sit right across from Jake, who’s demeanour had changed as he complimented your granny, who laughed at his sweetness. 

“Here, have some more,” he says, serving another portion to your grandma, who cooed at his kind conduct at the table. 

He made sure to be on his best behaviour, only in front of others but when his gaze fell towards you, a bored expression overtook his features, which no one paid attention to. 

You rolled your eyes. It hadn’t even been a whole day since you met and yet the boy made you dread his presence. He wasn’t being straight up rude per se, however his actions weren’t subtle either just like how he completely ignored your existence during the entirety of the dinner. 

He offered to clean up, which included him having to clean up your plate as well, which was something he did with a frown on his face as Mrs. Sim endorsed that he should help with the household work. 

Both ladies were in awe of how well mannered Jake was, and it left you irritated to no end before Mrs. Sim called out your name softly. 

“Jake’s been acting distant lately,” she told you in a soft voice, making sure the said boy doesn’t hear you both, “and comes home late from his part time work, doesn’t share a lot these days too,” she sighs before looking at you softly, “you’re such a lovely girl, Y/n. I’m sure Jaeyun would love to have you as a friend he can rely on. Will you please look after him?” She asked, eyes sincere with worry for her son. 

Now, you were provided with two choices—one to say yes and agree, but you’d have to be in Jake’s proximity for that. The second one would be a plain no, which would sound disrespectful and insolent. 

So you put on your most convincing smile, which turned into an unadulterated one when you saw her being concerned about her son, “of course, I’ll do that, Mrs. Sim.”

“Oh please! Call me auntie,” she swatted her hand at your formal usage of name and you laughed, agreeing. 

Since the dinner was summed up now and the dishes were done, courtesy of Jaeyun; you were asked to walk them back home, which wasn’t even a two minute walk, however you couldn’t say no to your grandma and hence, you agreed. 

Mrs. Sim—or your auntie Sim, thanked you for the dinner, and proposed to at least have one meal of the day together each day, which you thought was a lovely idea given that you had grown to like the lady. 

You were just about to leave when she went inside but a firm grip on your wrist stopped you right away, making you look up at Jake in question. 

“You don’t have to bother being my friend, you’ll only be a hindrance in my way,” he says smoothly. 

Your expression turns sour, almost as if you were bored, “why? So you can keep your fake good boy persona up and going?” You said, mimicking his tone. 

Not expecting such a reply, he let out a surprised scoff, mixed with the slightest chuckle, “so what? It doesn’t concern you. Or are you offended that I’m not actually good, like you,” he whispered, leaning close, which made you realize how tall he actually was, “you know nothing about me, princess.”

The nickname rolled off his tongue seamlessly, sending a shiver down your spine while you kept a straight face, trying not to seem affected at all. 

“Neither do you know about me, Sim. So stop making assumptions and just because I’m nice doesn’t mean I’ll take your bullshit.” You rolled your eyes, saying it all in one go before turning around to leave. 

“You should be scared of me,” he chuckles behind you. 

“In your dreams,” you retorted, not sparing him another glance as your heart palpitated. 

You had never talked to anyone in such a manner before, it gave a sense of newfound confidence—which you needed.

Jake simply watched you walk back to your place, shaking his head once you disappeared from his eyesight and still, a humorous smile never left his face. 

You had updated your parents about your three days here and later called your friend to do the same, who was also busy with her own vacation bucket list, yet it was a refreshing talk given that you currently did not have much to do to entertain yourself. 

Which left you to grab your swimwear and go for a swim—utilizing the pool in your backyard. 

Gigi loved to sit by the pool and made sure that it was cleaned every now and then. She had gotten it cleaned right in the morning today, which also gives you an opportunity to use it. 

The sunset casted a warm glow on the calm waves of the pool, the slight breeze in the air making it serene as you immerse yourself in the water, it closing you right in, feeling like a warm hug. 

You started slowly with effortless strokes, enjoying the feeling of lukewarm water on your body. You stopped after a while, resting as you let your body float with your eyes closed. 

“Enjoying ourselves, are we now?” A voice broke your state of tranquillity, your eyes opening in a swift and the water sloshed with how fast you turned around. 

Of course, it was none other than Jake sim who sat on the pool lounge chair, arms behind his back as if he was sitting to enjoy the view. 

“The fuck are you doing here?” You breathed out in question. 

He looked at you, feigning disappointment as he leaned to look down at you, “oh, princess. Didn’t they teach you not to use such filthy words?”

His condescending tone only riled you up, “didn’t they teach you not to show up at someone’s place unannounced?” You mocked, getting out of the pool and trying to find your towel, only for you to realize he was sitting right on it. 

“I’m simply here to get cumin from your grandma, we ran out of it, you see,” he explained, not sounding sincere as he let his eyes wander all over your wet body, barely covered with your bikini. 

Your eyes, however, focused on the cigarette he took out from his pocket, making you gasp as you made your way towards him in an attempt to snatch it off his fingers.  

Nevertheless, Jake was quicker to get up, grabbing your hand which was extended and pinning it up against the wall, his body pressed up against yours, successfully making your body go still with shock. 

Yeah, you didn’t really adore your body’s fight or flight response. 

“Fuck—” your eyes widened, yet he wasn’t the one to give you even a second to complain. 

“Shh, princess. I don’t want a single bad word coming out of your mouth now, is that understood?” He asked, using his condenscending tone again. 

You could feel every ounce of confidence which you had yesterday leaving your body as you stared into his honey eyes, an unconscious slight nod betraying you.  

That satisfied him, although he didn’t bother changing his position, nor did he mind your wet body as he took out a lighter from his free hand, lighting up the flame, keeping it close to the cigarette which was pressed in between his lips. 

Your eyes were transfixed on his face, observing how swiftly he closed the lighter, stuffing it in his pocket right before he looked away, blowing smoke into the air, giving you the greatest opportunity to stare at his consummate side profile. 

He took the joint back in his fingers, returning his attention your way, “ever smoked before?” He asked, tone seemingly raspier. 

Not trusting your voice, you simply shook your head as to provide him an answer. 

He snickered, “of course you haven’t. It goes against your good girl rulebook, doesn’t it?” 

“Shut up!” Your sudden outburst of anger only humoured him, even more so when you tried to snatch the cigarette from him using your free hand to prove him wrong. 

He didn’t let it happen. 

Instead, you found yourself looking right into his eyes with his slender fingers holding your chin in place. His breath was cool with a lingering smell of mint—which was probably due to the flavour of cigarette. 

“Want it that bad now?” He raised his brows, “open your mouth,” he ordered, not giving you a second to comply, his thumb parting your lips as he desired. 

He took a drag, inhaling the smoke deeply as you gulped, you could hear your heartbeat, or maybe that was simply how aware you were of your surroundings—your proximity with Jake. 

Tilting his head, he leaned in again, mouth parted just the right amount. He let the smoke out and into your mouth in an agonizingly slow fashion, his lips on the verge of touching yours. 

Your subconscious took over once you inhaled the smoke and it hit your throat. The burning sensation caused you to push him off as you coughed out in distress. 

“Guess you can’t handle it, princess,” he clicked his tongue in disappointment. 

You glared his way, composing yourself enough to actually snatch the cigarette from his fingers and take a deep puff, ignoring the way it burned your throat. It was your turn to surprise him by pulling him closer, grabbing his collar. 

Your eyes were closed when you leaned in, blowing the smoke right into his mouth, causing him to take it all in, him never once closing his eyes. He stared at you with such intensity that you could feel it, despite your eyes being closed. 

Once you were done, you breathed deeply, throwing the cigarette on the ground, “don’t get ahead of yourself, Sim,” that’s all you said before walking back into your home, rushing up the stairs and into your room just to avoid running into him again. 

Only when you were in the safety of your room, you let out a frustrated scream right into your pillow. 

Three days in your vacation and this boy had already driven you insane to the point you had smoked right into his mouth. 

You took a warm shower before taking a nap—something you required to calm your heart before you saw him at dinner, again. 

In contrast to yesterday, when he didn’t provide you with an ounce of attention, his behaviour had done a solid one eighty as now, he provided you with his utmost attention, passing you subtle smirks during the entirety of the dinner. 

You were more than glad when auntie Sim distracted you by indulging in random conversations, and you can easily say you enjoyed the information she was providing you with at the given moment. 

“And, and!” Auntie Sim said full of excitement, “Our Jaeyunie was four and you were three when it happened. He was so curious about you playing on the beach building sandcastles alone, he wanted to talk to you and so he collected flowers from our garden and gave them to you,” she cooed. 

You looked at the boy, surprised with the information of him being a sweet baby. Now, he was the one who tried to stop his mother from spilling the stories any further, averting his gaze but you didn’t let it go. 

“Aw! That’s so cute Jaeyunie. Where are my flowers now?” You asked, voice annoyingly high to bother him. 

Your grandma laughed as auntie Sim only urged Jake to get some for you. He looked your way, annoyed and you only passed him a sweet smile. 

You couldn’t deny, being a menace did feel good at times and the dinner wasn’t so bad after all. 

Yet, the events of the evening didn’t let you sleep, causing you to walk on the balcony yet again and you couldn’t miss the figure clad in all black leaving your neighbour’s home yet again, at two after midnight nonetheless. 

It wasn’t something you should be indulging in yet you couldn’t help but wonder.

What exactly was Jake up to? 

In these ten days of vacation, you had done quite a few things which included learning a few recipes with your grandma, bickering with your neighbour, minus the proximity as you made your mission to stay away for the sake of your poor heart. Majorly, you had grown to adore the beautiful beach which was right behind your home. 

Seeing how you had nothing to do in the given moment, you found yourself sitting on the warmth of the sand yet again, close enough for your feet to touch the water which was cold, juxtaposing the temperature of your body.  

You didn’t know how long you sat there dazed, watching the never ending blue waves stretching as far as possible, till you gasped and got taken back into reality once a hand on your shoulder shook you in annoyance. 

It was none other than Jake, who stood there with his jaw clenched, a bouquet of flowers resting in his right hand, causing you to raise your brows at him. 

“Mom forced me to do this, okay?” He huffed, handing you over the multicoloured bundle of happiness. 

It didn’t matter that it was Jake who gave you the flowers, it still made you happy, a smile growing on your face as the scent infiltrated your senses. 

This certainly wasn’t the kind of reaction Jake was expecting from you. He was sure you’d throw a snarky remark or maybe simply not take the flowers from him, but even you couldn’t deny the beauty of nature. 

“Thank you,” you whispered under your breath, surprising him even more. 

It was one of the days you felt calm, not wanting to channelize your energy into something as useless as picking up a fight, however, Jake won’t leave without that happening. 

“That’s it? You just need flowers to shut up?” He tantalizes you to answer back. 

You only give him a sour look in return, wondering what he’s even doing on the beach wearing shoes, clad in leather jacket as if he was going for the cliché illegal races you see in movies. 

“You should go, Jaeyunie,” you nodded with a fake smile. 

Your phone started ringing just then, and Jake caught the display name right before you picked up the call. 

It was Lee Heeseung—the guy who was your study partner in school and also the guy who was your competition when it came to academics. 

The call wasn’t long, he had simply contacted you to inform you about the university he got into as you also filled him up with the university you got accepted into. 

You assumed that Jake would have gone back, which wasn’t the case as he stood behind you, eavesdropping shamelessly. His expression turned into one of realization when he saw you actually smiling and talking sweetly to whoever was the guy who had called you, a scoff leaving his mouth on its own accord. 

“Yeah! Yeah, of course. Will text you later, goodbye!” You smiled, concluding the conversation only to find Jake still standing at the same spot, making you look at him in question. 

“Didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” he said, seeming bored. 

A sigh left your mouth, Jake was great at making assumptions, “why do you care?” You asked. 

“I don’t,” he replied, not missing a beat, “I should go, I have work to do,” he said, walking back to his place. 

Your lips worked before you could process anything, “yeah? Like you do every night?” You asked. 

He stilled, turning back in a second and crouching down to your level, grabbing your nape, pulling you close to him, “don’t get involved in my matters, Y/n. I’m saying this for your own fucking good,” he seethed out, causing you to gulp, your heartbeat rising up due to the proximity again. 

“What are you up to, Jakey?” You asked teasingly, trying to diffuse the tension. 

“Nothing that concerns you, princess. I’m being serious, okay?” He held eye contact, repeating the last word again, and you nodded. 

“Okay,” you mumbled as you felt him caressing your nape gently before he got up, leaving you there wordlessly. 

You didn’t realize how hard you were clutching the flowers while watching his walking figure. The sudden mood switch made you curious, and despite him warning you, it was something you wanted to see for yourself. 

Was he in trouble? Was he caught up in illegal activities? Or was he simply out partying somewhere?

Another sigh left your lips. 

You shouldn’t get involved in his matters. 

You got yourself involved in his matters. 

Sneaking out of your home was easy and you made sure to grab your jacket as the night got chillier than usual. All this to follow Jake. 

It was easy since he didn’t use any cars, walking towards his desired destination. It almost felt comical how you tried to tiptoe for a total of fifteen minutes, hiding in random alleyways whenever you made even the slightest noise of stepping on a pebble. 

For a second you even regretted coming out and spending so much energy on this, till you saw Jake actually stop and get inside an alleyway, which you approached exactly two minutes after he went in. 

Peeking in, you noticed how wide the way actually was, people clad in black and hoodies which hid their faces were present all over, more than thirty people you’d estimate. 

You squint your eyes to get a better focus of what they were up to, only for them to widen in realization when you found them exchanging packets and smoking what looked like drugs. Jake was also engaged in a conversation with a guy, purchasing drugs from him, which caused you to gasp slowly. 

“Looking for something, kid?” A deep, hoarse voice spoke near your ear, causing you to flinch and move away, turning around to see a guy full of tattoos smiling down at you, which disgusted you. 

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, looking towards your right to see Jake looking your way, eyes full of shock and worry as he whispered your name under his breath, not believing that you’d actually follow him there despite him saying a firm no to you. 

Maybe he was right, maybe you shouldn’t have come here. 

“Uhm, I—I lost my way back home. I’ll get going now, I didn’t see anything I promise! You guys please continue,” you said, trying to sprint but the guy was quick to hold your jacket, making you stop as Jake rushed your way, leaving whatever he was up to. 

Before anyone could take up any action, the sound of police sirens alerted everyone in the vicinity, which was more than enough for all the guys to scramble as you stood there with panic, trying to move your body seeing how the guys were climbing up the wall full of graffiti on the other side as it was the only way to their escapade. 

“Run,” Jake breathed out, grabbing your smaller hand in his without any notice and running towards the same way, his jaw was clenched. 

You followed wordlessly, mouth open with how deeply you were breathing, chest heaving up and down while you ran and reached the wall. 

The sirens got closer as if someone had tipped the cops to search this particular area and you were worried if you both would get caught up in this mess. 

“Jump,” he commanded and you stared at the wall, shaking your head. 

“I—I can’t,” you stuttered, watching how the others claimed it 

He pulled you closer, picking you up with ease as to provide you with some kind of elevation, which definitely helped when you grabbed on to the top brick, pushing your body up and jumping to the other side, stumbling slighting as you fell down. 

Jake was swift, landing by your side before he grabbed your hand again, pulling you up with him to run again. Your legs hurt yet you didn’t stop till he pulled you by his side, getting a bobby pin out of his pocket to unlock the door, which he opened in a go and pulled you inside, locking the door. 

Silence. 

Your breathing is all you could hear, but Jake’s eyes were louder than anything else, which scared you even further. 

“I specifically told you to stay out of it, what’s so hard to understand here?” He more or less shouted, pushing you against the wall. 

You gulped, not looking at his face but he wasn’t having it, he grabbed your chin and forced you to look his way. 

“What if they did something to you? What if the police caught you? What if something had happened to you?” His voice got smaller after each sentence, more breathy and desperate, making your heart break when he genuinely made it seem like he cared about you. 

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, which probably wasn’t helpful at the given second, “I thought that you were in trouble and,” you whispered, not having more to say. 

He sighed, resting his forehead on yours as his eyes closed to get some rest. You couldn’t move, your whole body felt more alive than ever, maybe it was the adrenaline rush, or simply Jake being so close to you. 

He stepped back after a few seconds, “go change,” he said, and that’s when you looked around to find yourself in a boutique full of clothes. 

“W—why?” You asked. 

“Because the cop saw us, he knows what we’re wearing,” he answered, trying to find clothes his size. 

Maybe he saw you when you were climbing up, meaning that you barely escaped him. 

“But surveillance cameras? Technically, won’t this be considered stealing?” You bit your lip. 

“There are none,” he replied, “and we have more pressing matters than to sit and worry about stealing.”

You nodded even though he wasn’t looking your way, trying to find some outfit, or rather, you were stealing it given the circumstances. 

“So, why were you out there?” 

“I should be asking you that, Y/n,” he said when you went into the changing room. 

“You had drugs with you!” Your voice boomed from the stall and he simply took off his shirt in the store. 

“So what?” He uttered, pissed. 

“Did you smoke drugs that day too? Did you give me drugs?” You screeched while asking and he opened the curtains, seeing you soothing the top down. 

“I don’t fucking do drugs,” he groaned, “I buy it and sell it to the guys next town at a higher price,” he explained. 

The dim light from the changing stall only enhanced Jake’s shirtless body, his abs full on display alongside his torso, which was well built. Your eyes settled on the tattoo he had on his left side of the rib. 

Taking a step further, your fingers gently traced the intricate design, making him shiver without you knowing, his fingers clasping around your wrist to keep it away again. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He whispered. 

“I—” you started speaking, looking at him with wide eyes which shone of innocence and worry, lips jutted in the slightest pout and hair slightly messy. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” he breathes out, not letting you complete your sentence, coming closer to your face, “why do you have to do everything I tell you not to do?” He asked, however his tone wasn’t filled with anger. 

It was something you quite couldn’t pinpoint yourself. 

He sighed, “let’s get you home.”

“Are we gonna walk back? Isn’t it too dangerous?” You asked as he turned around to put on a shirt averting your eyes from his back which flexed with his movements, your body felt warm and throat parched, especially when he turned around with a smirk. 

“We’re driving back home.”

You soon found yourself on a lookout at the garage entrance of what Jake called an illegal garage which was used for repairing old racing cars. The place wasn’t authorized, which is why stealing from here would work perfectly. 

“How do you even know this?” You asked, exasperated as your nerves got the best of you. 

It certainly didn’t help that the place was dark, and Jake wasn’t replying as he was hot wiring the car without a number plate 

You had no idea where he learned that from. 

“You need to learn things if you want to survive in this world, darling,” he said, focusing on his work, not once thinking how you’d shiver with his use of nicknames. 

He’s glad it’s not some new high tech car, which he won’t be able to hot wire as they contain ignition immobilizers, which makes it impossible for it to happen—you nodded as he explained all of this, your focus elsewhere. 

“Let’s go,” he said after a few minutes, seemingly done with his work. 

You rushed to get into the car, a scream leaving your mouth as he started driving almost instantly, his fingers gripping the steering wheels hard enough for his veins to pop out as you struggled to put on the seatbelt. 

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” you let out in half a scream. 

“Why? Not having fun now, princess?” He chuckled as he changed the gear, resting his hand on your thighs right after which caused you to squirm around in your seat. 

Your body was extra attentive when he was around, and you weren’t sure how to control your heart anymore, so you closed your eyes. 

“What’s so fun about this?” You asked, clutching the seatbelt. 

“You,” he confessed, messing up with your brain even further. 

“I hate you,” you mumbled, looking elsewhere. 

You didn’t trust his driving despite it seeming effortless, he was over speeding after all. 

“Now, we both know that’s not true, princess,” he stated and you huffed, knowing that he was right ignoring the fact that he was insufferable. 

His pace ensured you to reach home in record time, your legs felt wobbly the second you stepped on the road. 

“Stay here, I’ll be back in a second,” he rushed, leaving you standing alone as he parked the car outside a random garage two minutes away from your place. 

It was hard to believe how you got chased by police, stole clothes and a fully functional car all in one night. 

You saw him jogging back to you after a few minutes, standing right in front of you, “I think I should get back now,” you started to stay, however he stopped you. 

“You can’t do that, your gate’s got a surveillance camera so we need to go from the back side,” he stated, his hand automatically reaching for yours as you started to make way towards the back side, on the sand. 

All of a sudden, you felt smaller, heat creeping up your neck due to the body contact and you let him guide you wordlessly before you realized something. 

“Wait, how will you go back? Your place doesn’t have a back door,” you asked and he shrugged. 

“I’ll just jump to the other side of the garden wall, princess. You don’t need to worry about me,” he teased and you pushed him away, the warmth of his hand leaving yours. 

Tiptoeing into your home, you shut the back door as silently as possible before you rushed up the stairs and almost into your room, only to find Jake coming up with you. 

“What are you doing?” You whisper asked, eyes wide. 

“I’m curious about your room,” he answered with that usual smirk of his and you wanted nothing more than to slap it off his face. 

“You—” you tried to say, but stopped the second you heard another voice. 

“Oh, Peanut? You’re awake?” Your grandma’s voice called out from the balcony, and your mouth hung open as you shoved Jake into your room in an effort to hide him. 

“Y—yes, Gigi! I woke up to get some water,” you lied, wincing slightly as she acknowledged it and wished you a good night in her soft tone. 

You rushed in and locked the door, only to find Jake getting cozy in your bed. 

It was one of those days when your grandma missed your grandpa, and she spent hours on the balcony, looking at the glistening stars to find solace. You felt sad but the more pressing matter here was—how to get Jake out of your room? 

He can’t leave from the back door, he can’t go out from the front door as Gigi would see him, your room windows weren’t the opening type which left you with no option but for him to spend the night right here, with you. 

“Now what?” You asked, hand on your forehead while you paced around the room. 

“What? We sleep together, of course.” He had a cheeky smile on his face. 

“Are you crazy?” You almost screamed, but you didn’t wanna alert your grandma, which made you repeat it in a hushed tone.

“Why? Too scared to sleep with me? You’re the reason we’re in this situation, princess,” he smirked. 

You sighed. He was right about that part but you weren’t willing to sleep with him, so you proceeded to ignore him as you went into the bathroom to change into your comfortable clothes for the night. 

Jake simply patted the bed when you came out, silently asking you to sit next to him, and suddenly you realized that you’re locked up in a room with him, which didn’t help your nerves as you sat down with him. 

Somehow everything was rebellious against your rules when it concerned Sim Jaeyun. 

“Can’t you sleep on the floor?” You almost whined. 

He cocked his brow, “is that what I get after helping you escape?”

“That’s not it—”

“So? Is it the boyfriend?”

“I don’t have any—”

“The guy you were talking to in the morning.”

“He’s a friend—”

“Then there’s no problem, right?” he rasped. 

You didn’t realize your lip was bitten till his thumb brushed against your bottom lip, tugging on it gently to free it, caressing it while looking into your eyes. 

“Right?” He repeated. 

“Yeah,” you breathed, nodding ever so slightly. 

“Atta girl,” he chuckled, flustering you as you tried to look away, which wasn’t something Jake allowed, his fingers gripping your chin now, “god, you look so fucking innocent.”

“I’m not!” You argued. 

“Yeah? Have you been kissed before, princess?” He asks, amused. 

His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine, to the point you almost whimpered out loud, but you were glad you didn’t, “no. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t fucked anyone before.” You confessed, eyes on his plump lips. 

“Oh? Who’s the loser who fucked you without even kissing your prettiest lips?” He asked, frustrated that someone even dared to touch you, even though his words said otherwise. 

You gulped, “we were drunk,” you whispered, remembering your graduation party and how the guy had failed to please you. 

“Did he make you feel good?” Jake asked, expression serious. 

“What?” You were surprised by his question. 

He wasted no time in pulling you to his lap, your gasp only made him smirk wider, his hands resting on your waist, squeezing it lightly. 

“Did he satisfy you, princess?” His voice was an octave deeper, giving you goosebumps. 

“H—he didn’t,” you stutter, which pissed him further, his jaw tensed. 

“So you’re telling me that some asshole was deep inside you and didn’t even bother making you feel good?” He scoffed. 

“Jake—”

“Y’know what I would have done instead?” He asked, caressing your cheek, his thumb resting on your lips right after, “I’d kiss your lips till you get obsessed with mine.” his hooded eyes lured you in. 

His fingers travelled down to your neck, rubbing circles just above your clavicle, “I’d kiss you till my lips memorize every inch of your body, till your mind goes blank,” he whispers, biting your earlobe. 

You breathe in deeply, a whimper leaving your mouth, Jake’s name rolling off your tongue in a whisper right after, making him groan in response. 

“I’d ruin you, princess,” he breathes, eyes meeting yours. 

“Please.” You struggled to breathe, his pointy nose brushing against yours, lips threatening to kiss. 

“Say it,” he urged you, pulling your body impossibly closer on his lap. 

There was no denying that Jake made you lose every sense of rationality and morals in you, it almost felt as if you were intoxicated in his presence, your heart raced, thumping faster than ever, urging you to say yes. 

“Please ruin me, Jake,” you whispered, giving in and looking at him with innocent eyes. 

“That’s a good girl.” 

He was swift to push you down on the mattress, getting on top of you with hungry eyes to the point you almost felt as if you were a prey, and you liked it. 

His cold chain brushed against your clavicle, making you shiver as he leaned down to press his lips against yours in a fervent kiss, a groan leaving his mouth as he finally had you so close to him. 

Your fingers held on to his shoulders desperately, he was difficult to resist, and who were you to resist such pleasure? His plush lips moulding against yours, his hand squeezing your waist as you allowed yourself to get immersed into him. 

You could feel the warmth spreading in your abdomen like wildfire, a gasp giving him the perfect opportunity to taste you, sliding his tongue down your mouth to deepen the kiss, the taste of chocolate lingering in his mouth and you let yourself moan into his lips. 

You tugged on his hair, realizing how correct he was about you being obsessed with his lips as you found yourself chasing after it when he broke the kiss, making him chuckle at your desperation. 

“So fucking pretty,” he muttered, staring at your slightly swollen lips, which glistened with the mixture of your spit. 

He wasn’t the one to waste time, his tongue licking your neck, placing kisses all over it, causing you to squirm and pant till he found the spot which had you rolling your eyes with sheer pleasure. 

Placing a hand over your mouth to silence your moans, he felt a feeling of possessiveness take over him. You looked so fucked out and he hadn’t even done anything to you yet, he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he sees someone else with you. 

The mere thought had him biting and sucking on your skin in an attempt to mark the very spot which had you shivering and your toes curling. He slipped his other hand inside your flimsy tee, and in your bra, feeling your hardened nipples which he flicked between his fingers. 

Your body felt more awake than ever, each touch of his getting a reaction out of you, “so responsive, have you been waiting for this, princess?” 

You could only nod in desperation, trying your best to keep your moans at bay, not wanting to alert your grandma. He kissed your cheek before he got up to get rid of his own clothes, giving you a few seconds to stare at his faint abs, highlighted by the dim lights along with his tattoo, which you so desperately wanted to kiss. 

The image of you looking his way with such big eyes, chest heaving up and down only ignited the carnal feeling of him wanting to be deep inside you. 

It all felt new to you, being aware and not drunk this time, however it wasn’t just that—Jake made you feel this way, your thighs closing when you felt a fluttering sensation down your abdomen. 

“Undress,” he ordered. 

“What—”

“Undress for me, darling,” his words were smoother than the melted butter, making you work upon it instantly. 

His eyes were fixated on your figure the entire time you took to get your clothing off, feeling shy under his gaze, not to mention the outline of his cock in his boxers intrigued you even further. 

“Fuck, you’re all mine,” he said under his breath. 

His plush lips were soon on your tits, his other hand fondling and caressing your nipple while he worked his tongue, swirling it ever so perfectly before giving it a soft bite, making you arch your back as you bit on your discarded clothes, tears forming in your eyes with these euphoric sensations. 

He’s giving you all you could ask for and you? You’re a mess with your lipstick smudged and ragged breathing. Just when you thought that Jake couldn’t get you anymore wilder, he stuffed his hand down your wet panties, which brushed against your extremely sensitive clit. Even biting your clothes couldn’t stop a moan coming out of your mouth. 

“You like it, baby? That’s my good girl. So pretty and wet all for daddy, yeah? Daddy’s gonna taste you now, princess,” his spoke, his accent deep. 

“Daddy?” you asked, whimpering right after when his lips touched your bare pussy, pressing a kiss on your clit. 

There was something in the way he addressed himself so confidently which made you want to submit yourself to him fully, only pushing yourself deeper into sub space as he worshipped every inch of your body. 

“That’s right, baby,” he spoke against your, sending waves of pleasure through your body as his strong hands held your thighs open. 

Obscene noises of him licking and sucking resonated the room as you bucked up your hips unconsciously, desperate for friction, making his cock twitch while he licked languid strokes up and down your cunt, his hot breath fanning your folds, wishing to hear you moan despite the circumstances. 

“Shh, princess. We don’t want your grandma to know now, do we?” He smirked. 

Your hand slithers into Jake’s hair, tugging on it as you convulse in pleasure, letting him continue his ministrations on your leaking pussy, his lips soft unlike his actions, which were rushed and aimed at your pleasure. 

Your eyes roll back, arousal reaching its peak at the unadulterated pleasure as you repeated his name when he moved down to shove his tongue into your cunt, lapping at your juices when you reach your orgasm. 

Yet he doesn’t stop, inserting his slender finger in your tight hole, pumping it in and out gently at first while you whine and he gets up, wetness coating his lips. He lets you taste yourself by kissing you yet again, his fingers entertaining your cunt. 

Your breaths are heavier, louder and you can’t wait to have his cock shoved into you. You weren’t the one to have lewd thoughts in general yet here you were, moaning into Jake’s mouth, clenching around his two fingers which thrusted into you at a newfound speed. 

“Yes, daddy! Yes, oh god,” you mumbled to yourself, letting the lust consume you. 

His fingers curled inside you before he decided that you were ready for his cock. 

“Let’s see how desperate you are, beg for daddy’s cock,  princess,” he demanded. 

Now that his cock was in view, you stared at it dumbfounded. It was veiny and stood hard and leaking, the tip was red and ready to fuck you dumb, it pushed you over the edge. 

“Please, daddy? I’ll be a good girl for y—you please fuck me?” A tear left your eye, tainting your image even further which aroused Jake as a sadistic smile overtook his face. 

You continued to beg him, and he gave you no warning as he lined his tip on your entrance, coating it with your juices, almost pushing it all in but instead, he gave you just the tip, which made you beg out of frustration. 

“Tell me about your darkest fantasies,” Jake teased, seeing you pout and whine, “do it baby, only then you’ll get this cock into you.”

You were going crazy, “I—I want to be fucked awake,” you confessed, hiding your face. 

“Is that so? How cute,” he commented, pulling your body flush. 

Within a second, he thrusted into you sharply, your wet juices acting as the perfect lube to suck his cock right in as he bottomed out fully, cussing at the feeling of your walls clenching around him. 

You could feel the imprint of his dick on your lower abdomen, and he pressed on it with a proud smirk, only to make you whimper lowly, your voice quivering with deep he was in you, “big—so big.”

You laid beneath Jake in such a way that the sight was captivating for him, your vulnerability paired with his ignited primal hunger. 

He firmly wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling out slightly before he thrusted into you again as you were clinging onto him. 

He had never found anyone like you before, it was as if you were the only one for him, the one who reacts to his touch in such ways, the one who drives him insane to the point he has to rile you up just to get you to talk to him. 

His slow thrusts soon turned into relentless, pleasure inducing thrusts, and you found yourself bucking your hips up to meet him, helping him reach deeper spots in you, his tip hitting your g-spot. 

Choked moans escaped your lips, reaching the point of complete incoherence as you got drunk in the intensity of Jake’s presence, your senses overwhelmed as he fucked you without any interruptions. 

“Daddy—please!”

Sensing that you were close, he thrusted harder, twitching inside your pussy, his lips capturing yours as you both cried out, reaching your climax in harmony, breathing in deeply before he filled you up with his warm cum, which mixed with your own juices. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out, causing him to laugh and pull you in a sweet kiss. 

You could see the clear switch in his demeanour when he cleaned you up, asking gentle questions about how you felt or if he went overboard. 

He was perfect. 

Something had changed in the air, and you both were aware of it, but rather than verbalising it, you slept in each other’s arms, Jake staying up a few minutes just to see your peaceful face. 

“Good night, princess.”

Jake woke up early despite not getting enough sleep, still not believing that he fucked you—the prettiest girl he swore he’d ever laid eyes on. 

And he was sure to make your desires come true. 

You wore nothing but his shirt to sleep, which made your pussy accessible to him, his fingers playing with your folds ever so gently as he didn’t wish to wake you up, not this soon at least. 

He continued to do so for a remarkably long time, smiling each time he saw you stir in your sleep, his lips leaving kisses on your neck and shoulder blades till you were fully wet for him. 

Jake was shocked when you revealed that you were into somnophilia, but who was he to deny his girl some pleasure?

His other hand was busy taking care of his raging boner, seeing you dressed in his shirt, your scent mixed with his only drove him crazy. 

His grip on your thighs was firm when he straddled you, pumping his cock a few times before he pushed it in you with a few thrusts, the stretch being enough to wake you up with a whimper, your state disoriented but the second you realized that Jake was making your wish actually come true, you moaned. 

His dick throbbed inside you and you were still not over last night’s adventure as curse words filled the air, along with the mist of your unholy activities and fervent longing as he thrusted with a groan, kissing and nibbling on the skin of your neck. 

You were sure you had bruises forming on your clavicle by now, which also extended down your breasts and inner thighs, Jake being particular about having you marked through and through. 

You could only sigh and plead for more, beg for more, the word daddy coming out of your mouth effortlessly, which was effective to the point it made Jake fuel with desire as he provided you with the most overwhelming, ecstasy filled orgasm, him coming all over your pussy, pulling out this time. 

“I like you,” he revealed all of a sudden, his smile the epitome of boyishness which made you chuckle with your newfound happiness. 

That’s one good way to wake up in the morning. 

“Guess what, Sim. I like you too,” you confessed, growing shy by the last word and he pulled you in a sweet hug, swinging your body along his, your laughter filling up the room. 

You gasped, looking at him with wide eyes.  

You had forgotten to help him escape without your grandma knowing. 

The escape was successful, and so were your holidays which were nearing. Your sadness was apparent on your face, having no desire to go back leaving your grandma and aunt Sim. 

More importantly, Jake. 

It has become a routine for him to slip into your room ever so professionally to sleep with you—some nights you did sleep, other nights he gave you every reason to be awake. 

Which also served as a solid reason for Jake to stop indulging in the so called drug trade, one instance of almost being caught was enough for you both, not that you were involved in the first place. 

He opened up to you, actually acting like a goof at times, juxtaposing his usual bad boy demeanour. He provided you with the best of both worlds. 

Your feelings for the guy you used to find annoying were increasing at record speed per day, and now that it was finally one day before you’d leave, you couldn’t help but be bothered by Jake’s absence. 

He’s always around, which made you wonder where and what he was up to, especially when you wanted nothing more than to spend your time in his arms, lip quivering at the thought that he might not wish to see you anymore.

However, that wasn’t the case when he showed up in the doorway, huffing and hair messy as if he was running. 

“Jaeyun,” you whispered, letting him pull you in the comfort of his warm arms. 

“I’m coming,” he breathed, making you look at him with wide eyes. 

“What?” You blinked, almost stuttering. 

“I’m coming to Seoul with you, princess. I got into the same university,” he chuckled as you snatched the envelope from him, jumping with excitement as tears filled your eyes, hugging him even tighter. 

You felt like your heart was going to explode with the excitement, which Jake found heartwarming. He had planned this the second he saw you and got to know you. It was a given that he wanted to be with you. 

“What about your mom?” You asked softly, realizing that she’d be alone. 

“She’s gonna stay with Gigi. Our ladies are strong women, right?” He asked, caressing your lip, which you had noticed was his habit. 

“W—when did you even apply—this is so amazing,” you went on rambling, which was something he adored, but kissing your lips to shut you up was his favourite thing, especially when he got to see your shy smile right after. 

“So, we’re gonna be together?” You questioned, shyness taking over. 

“You’re wrong if you think you’ll ever get rid of me now, princess,” he smirked, teasing you again. 

This side of him made you faux scoff, “but what if I want to get rid of you?” You challenged, knowing well you weren’t capable of that. 

He took a step closer to you, his broad smile illuminating the room, his hand resting on your waist pulling you closer, “I’d like to see you try and escape me,” he retorted. 

“You want me that much, huh?” Your smile was coy. 

He brushed your nose tip with his, making you chuckle with joy. 

“I’ll always want my princess.”

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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#fic : roman holiday #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #jake smut #jake hard hours #enhypen imagines #kpop smut #jake x reader #enha smut #jake #enhypen scenarios #jake sim smut

[seenoversundown]

Golden Wings

I saw this tweet about hozier leaving love notes around the house for his partner to find and I could not stop thinking about it. Good luck!

Warnings: None, pure fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

I wake as I always do, surrounded by his scent. Woodsy, dark, and a tad floral. I do a big stretch followed by a small whine. I go to reach over to Andrew’s side trying to feel any trace of him.

“Andrew?” I murmur, my voice still heavy with sleep. I continue to paw at his side of the bed until I feel his abandoned pillow. I force my eyes to open and glance around the room, and realize I am most definitely alone. I prop myself up, a little sad I missed him this morning. But then out of the corner of my eye I notice a soft pale blue square against our dark emerald sheets. I lean over and grab it, becoming a little giddy when I realize it’s a note. 

The goddess of the day has risen, how I am unworthy to love such an ethereal being. 

When you are ready, there is breakfast downstairs. 

All my love, ~A.

I read and reread the small note probably a dozen times. His words always have a way of piercing into my heart directly and making a home inside. I hold the soft blue square to my chest and wonder how lucky I had to have been to have found Andrew. 

I slip on a matching cream colored silk set, Andrew’s favorite, and slowly make my way down to the kitchen. I glance around our small home as I walk through the hallways and wonder how we were able to move into here only four months ago but it’s felt like forever. It feels right. As I round the corner, the aroma of breakfast hits me. 

“Love, it smells divine,” I say. I’m greeted with silence in return, just another small pale blue square. 

Light of the day, your breakfast awaits you warming in the oven. I didn’t want to wake you- you looked so peaceful, but I had to run to the studio this morning just for some final touches.

I will be home in a few hours to you, my love, I promise. 

For now, eat your breakfast. Get your strength for the day. Look for more notes. I have plans for you. 

All my love,

~A. 

Again, I can’t help but reread his words, hearing his voice as if he’s reading them directly to me. Once I tuck the note in a safe place I open the oven to look at what awaits me. Andrew wasn’t lying. A fully prepared breakfast sits on a plate in the warm oven. He’s left oven mitts for me on top of the stove, which I grab eagerly. Breakfast smells even better when it’s sitting right in front of me. Veggie bacon, eggs sprinkled with cheese and spinach, toast with butter and maple sugar. 

As I sit down at my plate ready to devour the spread in front of me I spot Andrew’s discarded robe on the seat next to me. I don’t even hesitate as I reach out for it, wrapping myself in his scent and warmth. I feel even more relaxed now, if that was even possible, as I eat my meal.

I finish up my toast basking in the silence of our home. I can’t help but wonder when Andrew will be home, so I go find my phone to send him a text. 

Y/N: Thank you for breakfast, my love. I miss you.

A: You are so welcome, my dove. Look for the notes. I’ll be home before you know it. I miss you more. 

My heart flutters at his words like always as I go to put my cell phone in his robe pocket. Sliding it into the soft pocket, I swear I hear a paper-like crunch. I’m quick to take my phone right back out and stick my hand in to feel for the noise. It doesn’t take long before I pull out a small pale blue square identical to the ones before it. 

I knew you would put this on, my sweet. I have never known such a love as the love you give to me, I am forever in awe of you. 

Till we are bones, my love.

All my love, 

~A.

My heart thumps in my chest. I take the little note and add it to my ever-growing pile. Snagging a cup of tea, I walk around our sunlit living room and tend to our ‘plant children’. The monstera has always been my favorite, even though I tell Andrew they’re all my favorites. They do say you’re not supposed to have a favorite child. I don’t hesitate as I walk up to her, murmuring my good mornings and inspecting her as I grasp my mug of tea, bringing it to my lips. As soon as Andrew called me his, he kept my favorite kind of tea in superfluous supply wherever he lived- just for me. It doesn’t take me long to notice a little blue square nestled in her leaves. Of course he knew. 

Seeing you wearing my ring drives me mad. Watching you in the mornings, with it shining off the light as you talk to our plants is one of my favorite rituals. The way you speak to them with such kindness, such empathy- I cannot wait to raise our children together. A goddess such as yourself will be perfect with them. 

To the blues.

All my love,

~A.

I quickly glance down at my ring once I finish reading his words, immediate feelings of giddiness fill my chest. The perfect moss agate ring sits in a golden crown on my finger. I touch it, remembering the moment Andrew got down on his knee. He is always nervous when it comes to us- but not that day. That day, he was so confident. Bringing me to his hometown, showing me all of the places he used to go as a ‘young lad’ as he’d say. That trip I knew I needed him forever, and I guess he needed me just as much. I watched as he spoke Gaelic with the townsfolk in passing, his voice hitting my ears in such a dreamy way. 

It was when he brought me up to his favorite hill, the one he watched the sunset every day when he lived here, that he asked me to be his. Looking at the setting sun, wrapped in each other's arms, he feigned that he had forgotten something, and got up and started to look around. 

‘Andrew, what’s going on?’ I had said to him. When he turned to me his green eyes were the brightest I’ve ever seen them, I swear. 

‘Love, can you stand for me?,’ he said.

I think subconsciously I knew what was happening, even if I didn’t want to believe it. Tears freely fell from my eyes as he poured his heart and soul out to me, reaching out every so often to wipe a tear or give me a lingering kiss on my forehead. When he finally got down on his knee, I was a sobbing wreck. I can’t remember what he said, just me nodding and practically screaming ‘Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!’. 

Now his ring, his beautiful, intricate golden ring just for me sits on my finger. I sit in his chair, even though it’s usually both of us squished into it every night, and play with my ring. I watch as it hits the sunshine and sends dancing light around the room. It’s then, as I’m looking at the light, I notice another small pale blue note. I practically run to it, ready to read more of Andrew’s words. I take a moment once I have it to enjoy the anticipation before I read it.

Once the Gods realize you have escaped with their golden wings I’ll be in so much trouble. 

But, for now, you are mine. Do they know you’re here, love? Did I have it wrong and you were sent just for me? 

I’ll never be sure, but I’ll be eternally grateful for you. 

All my love,

~A. 

He’s trying to kill me I swear to anyone who is listening. It’s never been an act with Andrew, this has always been him. The love and adoration he gives me is unmatched. I can’t help but feel like I’m the luckiest person with him. I finish the rest of my tea, adding my two new notes to my pile that won’t seem to stop growing. 

I make my way to our shared bathroom and am a little surprised when I see another note. He truly thought of everything. I do my morning routine to try and prolong reading his letter, the anticipation is delicious. Once I do finish taking care of myself I carefully peel his note off of the mirror and finally allow myself to read it.

I cannot wait to see those eyes shine just for me. Thinking about it now I swear my heart skips an entire beat. That can’t be healthy, but you- you are my own personal drug. Stronger than all the others there is you. I need you. 

All my love,

~A. 

My eyes scan his letter too many times, taking in the way he writes his t’s and dots his i’s. I take out my phone and pull up my texts to Andrew.

Y/N: I need you as bad as you need me, love. I hope studio time is going well. Come home to me soon. 

A: You are the very air I breathe, my dove. See you soon. 

My heart flutters knowing he’ll be home soon. I decide I’ll stay in his robe and his favorite silk set and surprise him. Confident in that decision, I grab the book I’m currently reading and snuggle back up on our chair while I wait for him. I scroll on my phone for a bit, getting lost in social media for a little too long. Once I finally resign and open my book, a final little blue note falls out onto my lap. I can’t help but laugh, and wonder a little when he even did all of this. I waste no time reading the note. 

In every lifetime, I hope to find you. Our souls are destined to be intertwined throughout the centuries. You are the only one for me. 

I can’t wait to kiss you soon.

All my love,

~A. 

My heart is fully melted. All of his words from this morning play on repeat as I stare at this one note. How can one man be so fucking eloquent? I’m so lost in thought, I don’t hear the front door open or close.

“Dove?” Andrew shouts from the doorway. I’m on my feet in seconds, after all of these notes I missed my man something fierce this morning. He laughs when he sees me, arms outstretched ready for me. “There’s my dove. I hope you liked my notes this morning.” He says to me inbetween interrupting kisses. 

“Loved them? Oh Andrew, you have no idea. You know, I missed waking up to you this morning.” 

“I’m sorry dove, let me make it up to you.” He hoists me up in his arms and quickly kicks off his shoes before walking down the hallway to our bedroom. My laughter echoes in the hall, I’ve never been so in love. 

Masterlist | Taglist

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier fic #hozier fluff #seenoversunqueue #hozier x reader #hozier one shot

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Let There Be Hotel Complaints

Based on a post request by @rayslittlekitten I really hope you like it, I have no idea if it fits but I tried hard.

Title based on: Hozier - Dinner & Diatribes

Contains: Fluff, Ray being Gomez Addams, mentions of periods/period symptoms, smut (fingering, oral sex M and F receiving, P in V, breeding kink, possessive Ray, scents and smells, aftercare) Not beta read.

3.5K words.

Ray's feelings for you are as wide as the ocean, and his love is second only to his desire.

The hand that wrapped around your body felt like hot coals on your already heated skin, and you fought the urge to shrink away from Ray. "Raymond, I've been put in the garden working, can you let me shower before you hug me?" His arms only tightened around as you felt his chest expand against your back as he pressed his nose into your sweat-damped neck. "Ray! I'm covered in sweat."

He checked, and the sound reverberated through your body like the first rumbles of a thunderstorm. "I don't mind, Dear, you smell wonderful." His face moved to the top of your head as he took another breath, admiring how your conditioner mixed with a hard day's work. It drifted into his mind like the reaching of a siren song, slowly bleeding away his other thoughts.

His lips found your neck, and he smirked against your skin as your head tilted to make room for him. A quick glance at the clock let him know you'd have enough time to enjoy each other before the fancy business dinner tonight, and he found himself slowly unlacing from the hug as he brought one hand to your breast.

He gained more access to your skin, and you rested your head back onto his shoulder and pushed yourself into his touch, but he was pulling his hand away a second later when he felt you stiffen as he tightened his grip around your soft flesh. "Sorry, Love."

"It's ok, I'm just a little sore." There was no explanation needed as to why, you knew he knew why, he always seemed to know.

His hand moved lower, rubbing the skin of your ribcage in long, soothing strokes as his lips moved from the dome of your shoulder up your neck. "Allow me to make it up to you?"

The offer was the definition of temptation, but there were things to be done and places to be. "Tonight, if all goes well at the dinner. I have to finish with the garden and then get ready for tonight."

The teeth against your skin were not in retaliation for your conditional refusal but a promise of things to come. "Then let me help you?"

"Of course." Your reason was wholly selfish, motivated by rolled up sleeves and rippling muscles at his instance of lifting heavy bags of soil. You finished your glass of water and went back outside, not missing how Ray's eyes followed your arms as you placed your sun hat back on your head. He smiled at you, it was earnest and filled with warmth. "What do you need me to do, Gorgeous?"

You couldn't help yourself, there was something in his desire to aid you in every need that sparked something in you. "Many things, My Darling, but right now, I need help with the tea roses."

He smiled and took two steps to close the distance between you before brushing his lips on your ear. "Your wish is my command."

****

The rest of the afternoon swam by in a haze for Ray. It was the kind of torture that the training he had received many lifetimes ago could not prepare him for, and with each passing moment, his thoughts grew more debauched until he was waxing poetic in his head like a madman.

As you finished your makeup, he could not get the image of you licking the strawberry juice from your lunchtime dessert off your lips out of his head. Breathing through his nose had become an affliction; top notes of your shower gel and the underneath of you were one thing, but there was the faintest hint of him there that made him want to sink his teeth in your bare skin so many times that the hotel's tofts would look away in shame the moment they saw you.

By the time you slid into the car, pressing your legs to his as Bunny drove you to the hotel, he was afire with need. He laced his hand with yours as the vehicle travelled down from the lush countryside to the bright lights of the city and leaned in close, his nose brushing your temple as he told you more about the guests at the party you were heading to.

There were already people milling around when you arrived, handing their bags off to the Bellhops so they could enjoy their complementary night in luxury. Ray was less willing to relinquish the bags and simply blinked as the hotelier became insistent. Nevertheless, the man still walked to your room on the sixth floor, smiling saccharinely as he told you to enjoy the complimentary champagne before the party started.

The opulence of the room and the expensive champagne sat ignored by you and Ray as he steeled himself for a night of making nice and glad-handing when he would rather be doing something far more enjoyable. He took your hands and drew you to the middle of the room, wrapping his arms around you as his nose returned to your hair for the millionth time that day. "You look beautiful as always."

You smiled and placed your hands on his chest. "And you keep sniffing me like some weirdo."

He took it in stride, chuckling softly as he yanked you to his chest. "I can't help it, you smell exquisite, it's driving me insane."

You sighed, enjoying the warmth of his arms around you. "I know what you're thinking, but we promised Mickey."

He mirrored your sigh as he broke the embrace and extended his hand. "I know. We should head down there now, the sooner we go down and mingle, the sooner we can leave."

His hand found your lower back as you took the lift to the grand hall and stayed there as you met up with Mickey and Rosalind and made introductions with the upper class lucky enough to receive invites. Of course, the reason for your invitations was the massive underground white widow super cheese farm under the hotel's private golf course.

It was painfully dull, standing around making small talk about the weather and wallpaper while eating tiny pies that only served to make you more hungry. Ray stayed stuck to your side, practically dragging you around with him while he did business for his boss.

"Your wife looks lovely tonight." Ray's arm tightened around you as you spun towards the voice.

"She looks lovely every night, Dave." If Dave had plans to say more, they were defeated by Ray's harsh glare as he pulled you away.

He moved to a quiet corner of the room and placed your hand on his ample bicep. "What's gotten into Ray? You've just about ripped the heads off anyone who's talked to me tonight. I get Dave, but the Simon's are nice."

He moved into your space, pressing you against the window as he took your chin between his thumb and forefinger while he leaned in close enough that your noses were brushing. To outsiders, it would have looked like a private moment between lovers, but Ray's eyes were fixed on with a look so lustful it would have made the whore of Babylon blush. "What's gotten into me? I have spent the last two hours watching these pigs look you up and down while acting like I don't want to rip their arms off for even daring to speak to you."

You blinked, he was in a mood tonight. "Well, Dear. How about you stick it out for another hour so we can eat dinner from this stupid menu then, I'm all yours for the night?"

He swallowed and exhaled before pressing a quick kiss to your lips. "Of course Darling." His tone had shifted; it had taken on that gravelly tilt that created a flutter of excitement in your chest, and you eagerly headed back into the fray as Ray finally composed himself.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek as he leaned into your touch. "Thank you, Dear."

****

The dinner was the typical mess of rich people's food that had too many flavours and not enough on the plate, but Ray gave you all his cheese twirls and made sure to pick you the biggest slice of chocolate cake off the platter when dessert came around. All was going well until the tables were cast aside again for the wine course, and you were split from him as one of the tofts Mickey looked after pulled him away to talk about security.

His eye kept drifting over to you, and he grew ever more aggravated as he watched the sommelier try and fail to flirt with you. He dismissed the man he was talking to with the promise to call later, that he was tired and wanted to enjoy his hotel room and all but stormed over to you. "Are you enjoying the wine, Dear?"

You shook your head. "I've told the sommelier that I'm not interested in that variety, but he's being very insistent."

The man smiled and turned to Ray. "We have some of the best wine in the country here, your girlfriend…"

If looks could kill, Ray would have ended the man there and then. "My wife isn't interested, and I don't appreciate your tone or your attitude. I will be speaking to your employer in the morning to deal with this in full."

His hand was back on your lower back as he marched towards the lift, and between his puffed chest and his expression, no one dared to join you as the doors opened. The second the doors closed, he was on you, pressing you against the wall as his lips found yours. The grip he had on you was almost painful, his fingers digging firm into your skin as he held you in place for a searing kiss that stole the air from your lungs.

He finally allowed you to breathe when the doors opened on your floor, and he all but dragged you to your room as he shut the door and pressed up against it. His lips were on yours again, and his hands slid around your body until his fingers were curling around the fabric of your evening dress and ripping it open with the pop pop of fancy buttons.

He shoved the dress down, breaking from your lips for a moment to take in the lingerie you were wearing. "Fucking hell y/n." That went next, and his lips didn't give you the chance to admonish him about what he had paid for the now ruined fabric lying at your feet.

He once again broke from you and knelt on the floor, removing your shoes one by one before kissing his way up your legs, swapping legs with each kiss, getting closer and closer to your centre with each one until he slowed at the crease of the thigh. He was once again inhaling like he was suffocating, and you wove your hands into his hair as your frustration grew. "Can you do something instead of sniffing me?"

His teeth sunk into your skin in retaliation, and he was standing up to his full height with eyes full of threat. "Don't rush me." His hand cupped you, his fingers running your rapidly gathering wetness as he all but growled at you. "This cunt is mine, I get to take all the time I want, understand?"

You almost wanted to act out to see what it would make him do, but the poor man already looked pained enough. "Anything you want."

He locked you in another kiss, his teeth smarting at your lip as he made his wants known with a gentle pressure on your shoulders. "Get on your knees."

He kicked your ruined dress under you to soften the ground as you sunk down, and you pulled at his belt to free him. He helped you, shoving his trousers and boxers down in one go just far enough so his cock could spring out and you could grab his perfect ass unencumbered by fabric.

He looked down at you as you kitten licked around the head and felt another rush of this heated primal positiveness that he had been feeling the whole night. A hand found the back of your head as you took him into your mouth, and his free hand shot out to rest on a side table to steady himself as pleasure filled his senses.

He stopped himself from bucking his hips in order to focus on the vision of you sucking him like a lollipop. It was outright pornographic, and all he could think about was that you were all his and his alone. "Fucken 'ell, Love." You moaned around him, and he used every ounce of self-control to pull you off of him and to your feet. "Get on the bed."

His hands were all over you as you made your way to the bed, and he ran his hands up and down your sides while you spun around to face him so you could lay on your back on the plush mattress. You settled on the pillows as his lips met yours, and he finally began to remove his clothes.

Bare skin hit bare skin as his lips started a journey down your body until he was lifting your legs over his strong shoulders and onto his solid back. He kissed the bend of your knee, his lips soft as his beard brushed your skin. He locked eyes with you and smiled softly as he continued his journey upwards, finally arriving with barely there kisses that had you pushing your hips towards him. "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours." A hot, wet heat enveloped you as he licked you from the entrance to clit in one firm, wide lick before sealing his lips around your clit. Ray had always been a man who prided himself on his attention to detail, and your bedroom was no different; it was like he had committed precisely what you needed to memory so well that he didn't even need to try, and tonight was no different.

He seemed more desperate tonight; accuracy swapped for the burning desire to consume your whole, and it didn't help that he was moaning against your flesh like he could somehow feel what he was doing to you in his own body. The chorus of his name from your mouth only served to spur him on, and a forearm pressed your hips down so you couldn't move away from him as he used his free hand to slide two fingers inside you.

With his rough fingertips bullying your G-spot, you didn't stand a chance, and he was far too strong for you to twitch away for a reprieve as the waves of an earth-shattering orgasm took you like the undertow of a raging river. Your chest heaved as he pulled away, and he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before bringing his soaked fingers to your lips. You licked him clean only to have him kiss away the taste like you had slighted him by taking him up on his offer, and then he was slotting himself between your spread wide legs and grinding his cock against your sensitive skin. "Tell me me you're mine."

"I'm yours." You marvelled at his self-control, his face buried in your neck as he continued teasing you. "I'm yours, please Ray."

He took his cock in hand and notched it at your entrance. "Who do you belong to?"

"You." Your reply was desperate, your hands on his heated chest with fingers curled in a threat should he persist in his game, but he didn't, and seemly satisfied with your declaration, he slid inside you with one confident push. The fullness of it stole the air from your lungs, and you lifted your hips up to take him in faster as he bottomed out.

His hand found your hip, and his fingers dug in with force as he began to move, taking a steady pace that had the head of his cock brushing your G-spot with each pass. One of your hands wove into his hair while the other clutched at his back, and he pressed his lips to yours in a scalding kiss as he picked up speed. Mercifully, before he suffocated in the air stealing a kiss, his lips moved to your neck, and then his teeth were out, marking your skin like he was trying to prove a point about his ownership over you.

He pulled away for a moment and took in your blissed out face, faltering as the vision brought him teetering to the edge of oblivion far sooner than his ego would allow, so in a mix of the desire to uphold his pride and the need for more skin to mar he pulled out of your for a fleeting moment only to flip you over then slam back home as his teeth found more skin. He was overwhelming at this angle, and your fingers curled around the pillow as he slid a hand between you to rub your clit.

Ray would often tell you that you were good for his ego, that he could walk into a room where all the men would turn their heads to look, and he could smile knowing you were his alone. But this was something different, you writhing under him, stuck between frantic begging and breathless need made him feel like a God with you as his ever willing offering.

He captured you in another kiss as the edge neared, and you shuddered as, with one more precise circle to your clit, you fell over it. His hips didn't slow, and he growled into your mouth like a hungry animal as he chased his own high. "You're mine, I own you, understand?" All you could do was nod as your vision began to grey at the edges, but he must have accepted your answer because he all but roared as he came inside you.

His strength failed as it hit him full force, and the possessive beast inside him was finally satiated, knowing he had marked inside and out. He was mindful not to crush you, but he couldn't find it in himself to move away just yet, he couldn't let his hard work slip from you just yet. His lips were once again gentle as they kissed the marks his teeth had made, and you sighed as he brushed the stray hairs from your face.

His nose found its family home on the back of your neck, and his chest expanded against your back as he inhaled. "You must be intent on trying to kill me, My Dear."

You didn't have a clue what he was talking about, and rather than ask, you kissed him in hopes he would tell you anyway, but he didn't, and the weariness in your bones forced you to speak. "What do you mean?"

He finally rolled off you, and you laid on your sides facing each other as his hand ran up and down your side. "I can't understand how someone can smell so intoxicating, it truly is torture."

You reached up to lay a hand on his cheek, and he tilted his head to press his lips to your palm. "You get like this every month, I thought you'd be used to it by now."

He shook his head, sleepy. "Never, how can someone get used to being on fire."

"I suppose that's fair." There was more you wanted to say, but it was getting hard to keep your eyes open, and he could tell. Despite his own feelings, he was getting up to clean himself up before returning with his arms loaded. He brought you a glass of water and used one of your damp face cloths to cleanse away your makeup before using another damp cloth to remove the mess from between your legs, although he did pause to watch the evidence of your shared sin drip from your body and onto the expensive sheets as another wave of possessive filled him.

With his duty done, he disposed of the unclean fabric in a pile and climbed into bed next to you, wrapping you in his arms as he pulled you to his chest. "I love you y/n."

You relaxed into his arms and dropped a kiss on his chest where his heart lay. "I love you too, Ray."

In the morning, he would awaken you with ginger tea, a heating pad, and ibuprofen before climbing back into bed with you and soothing away your aches and pains until check out finally came. Room service would find no evidence of the mess Ray had left in the aftermath of your coupling, just a pile of towels already in the dirt laundry bin when they collected the cart at the start of their shift. He did, however, get a dirty look and a snide comment from the hotelier about what kind of establishment he was running. As you checked out, Ray took it in stride.

Fin

#raymond smith x you #raymond smith x reader #raymond smith #charlie hunnam fanfiction #the gentleman #charlie hunnam #raymond smith smut

[iliketangerines]

Hi, I absolutely adore your Lord Raiden fics! I was wondering if you also write for General Shao? He's one of my faves and there's barely any content with him.

I can just imagine him feeling conflicted after he falls for the reader who's from Earthrealm. They're sweet and bubbly, basically the total opposite to him, and Shao can't decide whether he wants to distance himself or protect them and claim them as his own.

It's totally fine if you don't want to write him, I understand that he's not everyone's cup of tea! <3

too sweet

a/n: i have had too sweet by hozier stuck in my head all day, and this gave me the perfect excuse to reference the song

pairing: general shao x gn!reader

warnings: none :)

he watches you from across the banquet hall, how you smile and laugh at a joke that one of the Earthrealmer’s had told you

he can’t help but feel jealous at the sight of you smiling for someone else, and he wants to walk over there and take you away

but you barely know who he is

yes, you greet him whenever you pass by him, and you give him small little smiles

but, you do that to everyone, giving them the time and attention of the day even when you’re busy, and you’re always so happy and kind

you’re too sweet for him, so much kinder to the world and to everyone than Shao ever has, and he doesn’t want to hurt you

he wants tuck you away from the world, to protect you from its dangers, to cradle and hold you in his arms as he loves you

he wants to get to know you better, to know what makes you happy, what makes you laugh, what would make you pay attention to him

you’re so soft, and he knows that Outworld would change you for the worse, make you harsh and unkind and dark like him

he doesn’t want that for you, but it seems you’ve caught him staring because you look over at him and send him a friendly wave

he nods in acknowledgement and averts his gaze, unsure if he should go over there and talk to you, but you make the decision for him and walk over to his table

you sit down next to him and greet him as you start to ask him about his day and tell him about yours

he gives slow measured responses to your answers, watching as you cling to his every word, and his heart sends a pang through his chest

you’re so sweet, paying attention to him despite his much different form compared to you, and he wants to court you, take you on dates in the city and show you the beauties of Outworld

but Outworld comes with so many danger, and being with him would expose them to you

you would be harassed, trained, mocked for being the side piece of the war general, and he doesn’t want that for you

he doesn’t want to make you bitter like, be turned into a hard shell of your former self and start to turn distrustful and angry with the world

he almost misses it when you ask him to have tea with you tomorrow, to partake in one of your favorite activities of the days, and his eyebrows raise slightly in surprise at the proposition

he sits in silence for a second, struggling whether or not to take the offer, and he watches your face fall a bit at his lack of a response

you wave off the offer, apologizing for making him uncomfortable, but the words spill from his mouth before he can even think

he wants to have tea with you, he does, he really does, just tell him a time and place

you light up again, voice taking on an excited edge as you squeak and tell him the time and place and start to tell him all about the different types of tea on Earth and that you wanted to try some Outworld tea with someone from Outworld

he watches with soft eyes at how you wave your hands in the air as you talk, and General Shao knows you will be judged, hated for entering a courtship with him

but he’ll make sure to keep you away from the ugly side of Outworld, to keep you happy and soft and sweet

#tangerine writes #tangerine answers #mortal kombat #mk #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #mk1 2023 #general shao #general shao mk1 #mk1 general shao #general shao x reader #general shao x you #general shao x y/n #mortal kombat x reader #mk x reader #mk x you #mk x y/n #mortal kombat fluff

[blingblong55]

Normal People- Simon ''Ghost'' Riley

You and Simon were once together when you were younger, you eventually grew apart. Years later you two by some coincidence meet once again.

A/N: listen to any of these songs, trust me!!! (This Town-Niall Horan, Photograph- Ed Sheeran, Strange-Celeste, Like Real People Do- Hozier, Sparks- Coldplay)

Based on a request:

GN!Reader, little angst, lovers to strangers(in a way) to lovers again

You and Simon have known each other since primary school. Neither of you knew you'd end up falling in love by the time secondary school came around. It was always you two against the problems of life and teenage drama. He asked you to be his boyfriend/girlfriend by year 10, ever since that day you and him were more than inseparable. His mates always teased him about it, it was rather adorable how much he would blush when they'd mention you two as a couple. He would sneak into your room after hours, whisper everything and try to contain his laugh when you'd say some terrible jokes. At times you two would sneak up to the roof and just stare at the stars all night.

One night as you two watched the stars he asked you to school formal. It was a big deal amongst friend groups and couples, so you of course said yes. That night as your friend group all drank beer by some campfire after the dance, you sat on his lap. He was all quiet, his eyes never leaving yours. "I love you, r/n'' he whispered into your ear. You looked at him with puppy eyes. You smiled and kissed him.

Ever since, any time you really meant it, he or you would say it, even if the time wasn't right, it could only be said when it was meant and no other time. As time went on, he joined the military, you stayed back and finished college, when he came back, you were working as an assistant. One night he went to visit his mum, she advised he visit you. And as he walked the streets, there you were with the same friend group. You and your friends laughing and drinking, everyone with their significant other, you sat with them, an empty stool next to you.

"Okay Simon, I understand, and don't worry darling, at every table I sit by, I'll save ya a seat, that's a promise''

''you don't have to do that, love''

Eventually one night you and him broke up. His role in the military got more serious, it demanded more of him. And you both knew it was time to just call it quits. You two had grown apart, it was an event that had to happen. You would move out to Dublin soon, a top Uni there accepted you(see what I did there,,anyways). Simon would have to leave England for months on end, it was just bound to happen. So when you called it quits, you moved to Ireland and he to somewhere in the world, wherever the military took him.

He carried a picture of you both from the night of the school formal. It was you and him sitting by the campfire, you in your attire and he in his suit, he had his arms around your waist. The way you two smiled at the camera, a true moment where he felt safe and at home.

--------

He was now 29, soon to be thirty, you'd be around the same age as well. He was now a lieutenant for the army, you a successful company executive. There were nights were he wondered where you were in Ireland, if you had met someone new, if maybe you had written him letters but just never sent them out. If you had maybe settled down, if you even remembered how at some point you were his life, the sole purpose why he always was a better man.

At drunken nights, thats when he thought of you the most. How you kissed him on rooftops, sneaked out just to talk to him, or the nights where you played the piano at some pubs. Maybe it was the sense of home, belonging that he missed, but maybe it wasn't, it was your sweet voice, how you would caress his face, rub his back, listen to his problems, kissed him under that stormy night, how by morning, you two laid on the couch at his mum's drinking tea and eating soup because you two got sick.

On cold lonely nights in the desert, thats when he missed you the most.

But as any true mystery in this world, you one warm night found each other once more. You in some jeans and a white tee, he in a black shirt and an old pair of jeans. Manchester was quite boring if you've been a local. You pushed your trolly around the store, you accidentally bumped into a tall man. ''Shit, sir I am incredibly sorry I was looking at this stupid stupid date on the-'' You looked up from the can of beans.

''R/n?''

''If it isn't Simon Riley'' you said in a happy tone.

He noticed the same old locket he gave you on your 16th birthday, it was a picture you took on a booth. You and him smiling at the camera. It gave his chest a good kind of ache. It was nice to know he was thought of.

''I thought you'd forgotten all about me, love.'' He walked up to you, his arms opening a little. You too walked to him and hugged him, ''not in a million years, Simon.'' You kissed his cheek, oh that warm fuzzy feeling of belonging.

He looked at you, his hands caresses the sides of your face. He looked at you, mesmerized you hadn't changed a bit, your smile still warm and beautiful. He smiled as his hands had a feel for your still soft skin. Your eyes welled up a little, it was a relief he was still on this Earth.

The many nights you wished you went to Sunday school and learned to pray, to believe, to hope. One night you did though, you had just arrived from Ireland, you went to a local church, you sat there and whispered, ''please, if you really are real, if he is still out there, just..keep him safe, please''

''You look rather ravishing my love.'' He smiled at you, he looked all over your face, studying it and remembering all of the small details.

''Sorry, again for hitting your bum with the trolly.'' you chuckled. He shook his head, ''s'right, love.'' he said almost in a rather happier tone. It was crazy to see you here, but he wasn't complaining, thats for sure.

''when did you get here by the way?'' he took your trolly, and tossed his basket on it, he pushed the trolly and walked towards the next aisle, you following along.

''Here in Manchester? well lets see, I came back I think 6 years ago?..yeah definitely six. And you?''

''Got back last week, you know the whole army thing.'' he said as he happily looked through his list of must buys.

''Hm I see...I suppose your partner made that list for ya?'' you asked in a curious way, looking for a 'no, my mum needs this,,,no partner..been waiting for ya' type of answer.

''No, I am making some dinner for myself, and no, no partner,,,still.'' he had given up in trying to find someone after you, and that one failed date he had about 8 years ago.

''ah I see well-''

''do you..y'know, have someone to go home to? is this to forward or-''

''no no, not all, no, its not forward..um..no I don't been too much of a selfish person since my job.''

It was silent for a few minutes as he walked down the aisle. ''so,,,I get to have a second chance? or we..we can be friends? I would be okay with just anything..or not..I don't know.'' he let out a nervous chuckle as he tossed a box of sponges into the trolly.

''well..i..um do you want us to..have a second chance or-''

''yes!,,,if you're okay with it, I want to work on us, I have more time now, maybe not the most time but..this is going to sound-''

''stupid? cheesy? weird?'' you tried guessing.

''all?'' he chuckled, ''i..always thought we would end up together, you know the whole living together, walking down the aisle to me, I don't know maybe getting a dog and taking him on walks on our days off,'' he shrugs, ''its dumb, but I always thought you'd be my...my future, my little something.''

''The one thing I can get to be selfish about.'' you said, he looked at you, blush spread across his face.

''yeah,,,the one thing I can get to be selfish about, I like that,,so?''

''lets be selfish Simon, together.'' You kiss his cheek.

'Maybe the events in our lives were set in motion a long time ago. There's an old Buddhist saying that when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making. So always appreciate and be kind to each other.'

-Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

A/N: I just rewatched and re-read Normal People, that shit is just so..real. Anyways anon I hope you enjoyed it!

#cod 141 #cod mw2 #cod x reader #mw2 141 #task force 141 #ghost cod #141 x reader #cod #mwii #141 #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost hc #ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost x you #call of duty mwii #mw2022 #mw2 fanfic #mw2 2022 #call of duty #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod x you

[arlh0e]

Almost (sweet music)

Part: 2/? “I would do it again”

Part one here

Rating: Mature (smut at times but not rn)

Warnings: Hozier x fem!reader, angst, post-break up, sulking, long-distance, yearning, title from a Hozier lyric

Summary: You and Andrew have been broken up for a few months, you still talk regularly, but you’re beginning to understand why he thought that seperating for the duration of the tour was a good idea. You miss him dearly, but its comforting that he’ll be home soon and you’ll be able to spend time together when he comes home for the holidays.

You were so happy to be home, and after the day you had at work, all you really wanted to do was text Andrew and tell him about the idiots you work with, more specifically the fact that none of them wanted to do their job and so all of the extra work fell on you.

He hadn’t responded to the message you had sent him at lunch, so you assumed that he was busy doing an interview or a sound check before his show tonight.

He was understandably busy, but you still felt a pang of hurt at the fact that he wasn’t responding. You hadn’t heard his voice since the last time the band was staying in a hotel, which had been weeks ago. With all of the traveling, they had just been sleeping on the bus because they were never anywhere longer than a day.

You wondered how he felt about it. The utter lack of privacy on that bus had to be stressful, especially for someone like him, who enjoyed his time alone as much as he did.

Sit down on your bed and reach for your laptop, opening up youtube to check and see if there were any more interviews with him that had been posted.

You knew it was slightly obsessive that you had seen just about every interview that he had done since he left, but you really did miss him. Watching him talk about his music, if nothing else talking to someone else about it helped fill the void in your chest that had been left there by his lack of presence, even if just for an hour.

You imagined that this is how some of his fans acted with his content. Did they obsessively search for new interviews and consume every piece of media that he was a part of? You were sure they did, he was magnetic. His personality just drew you in, making you want impossibly more of him by the second. Maybe it was because of his kindness, or his passion, or maybe it was just because he was pretty, but you couldn’t blame the fans who you had seen sob at his concerts just from being so close to him.

You were pretty sure that you’d likely be in the same boat when he came to perform in Dublin. He had already promised you backstage access for all three shows because he knew how much you loved watching him perform.

If you were being honest, part of what you was kind of confused as to how this arrangement with Andrew was supposed to work. You knew that at least for the time being, you weren’t together, and yet, nothing about the fundamentals of your relationship with him had changed.

You were still painfully in love with him, as was he with you. You both still ached to be with each other and to talk as much as possible, he literally couldn’t wait until he got home and so he invited you to his shows so he could spend time with you before then.

It was incredibly frustrating. Having to go from being able to talk to him and see him whenever you wanted to wondering if it was appropriate to text or call was borderline infuriating even.

And every so often you couldn’t help the thought from passing through your mind that he could be sleeping with other people while he was on tour. With no official relationship status, he could do whatever he wanted. And you couldn’t even be mad about it, but that didn’t stop you from wanting to rip your hair out at the thought.

You hadn’t gotten up the courage to ask him about any of it, but most of your conversations had been about how you were doing at home. Or how Elwood was behaving for his parents. He never talked about how the tour was going or how he was feeling or what he was doing, and it was feeding into the idea that maybe he was doing so on purpose. Maybe this break up wasn’t for your benefit but so that he could do whatever (and whoever) he wanted while he was away without fear of consequences.

***

The Dublin shows really could not come soon enough. You really weren’t sure of when his flight was supposed to land, but you knew he had a 2 day gap between his last show and the next show in Dublin, so you were almost positive that he was already on his flight back.

You caught yourself quite frequently checking the house across the street to see if his car was in the driveway yet, or if a light was on.

You were practically buzzing with how excited you were to see him. It had been months, and just being in his presence again would be so refreshing for you.

You had decided to take a shower to get your mind off of things, or at least distract yourself from staring longingly at his house from your window.

The playlist you put on (titled “the hoziest”) was compiled of all of Andrew’s music in order of your favorites of his, though there wasn’t a single song of his that you disliked, songs like in a week and work song just made you so happy to listen to.

When you’re done in the shower, you take your time going through your night time routine, skincare, fancy pajamas, the works. Knowing that you’d be seeing Andrew soon had sent you on a spiral the last few days.

Which was ridiculous of course, seeing as how this man had literally seen you doubled over, puling your guts out with your face in a toilet from alcohol poisoning on multiple occasions (you tend to get carried away) but you still found yourself wanting to look your best for when he saw you again.

Once done, you pick your phone up off of the counter, turn your music off and walk back to your bedroom while scrolling through instagram, looking at things your friends had posted and watching reels, not bothering to look up from your phone as you made your way to your closet to hang your towels.

“You know, my offer to let you sing in the band still stands, we’d be performing in a week every night if it sounded like that.” You froze.

You knew who the voice belonged to, and you almost forgot a half second thought you were hallucinating.

Did you really miss him that badly that you were hearing his voice when he wasn’t really there?

You turned around to look in his direction. Andrew’s lanky frame was laying comfortably in your bed, his torso propped up against the bed frame, smiling at you.

You blinked once. Twice. You were sure that the confusion you felt was evident on your face, but you weren’t sure if he was actually there or if you were half asleep and imagining all this. You were almost certain that he’d disappear.

“Hey?”you offered up in confusion. You had come to the conclusion that he was actually here but you were still wondering why. And how. “I could’ve sworn I locked the door, how did you get in here?”

“Hi, I missed you too.” He laughs. The sound is quite refreshing after all this time, soft melody that graced every inch of your being. “It was, I tried knocking but you didn’t answer and I still have a key if thats alright.”

Thinking back on it, you never had asked for the spare key you had given him back. And knowing him, this was all quite fitting of a homecoming surprise. You looked over to the bedside table, a bouquet of your favorite flowers was there, sitting in a glass vase of yours, a vase that wasn’t there before. Your heart melted at the thought.

Though it didn’t make up for everything that had happened or how lonely you had felt without him here, you were glad to see that he was at least trying.

“Hmm, I dont know, I do seem to remember a promise of groveling for my forgiveness when you got home.” You raise an eyebrow at him with a smile and a small laugh, while you cross your arms over your chest and lean against the doorframe of your closet.

“And here I thought I’d be able to get out of it.” He smiles and stands to make his way over to you. His hands snake their way around your waist, resting firmly at the small of your back while he looks down at you. “I missed you terribly, my love.”

You just continue with your sly smirk, cocking your head while looking up at him, silently telling him that this was not the agreement in full. He laughs in return and slowly sinks to his knees in front of you. “Im so sorry, darling.” He plants a kiss on the bit of exposed skin below your shirt. “Won’t you forgive me?”

Your hands move to tangle in his hair, lightly tugging him away from your mid drift, moving his face so that his eyes come in contact with yours while you smile down at him.

“Sweet boy, you’re going to have to try much harder than that.”

Smut in the next chapter! consider yourself warned!!!!!

#andrew hozier byrne #hozier #the hoziest #unreal unearth #eat your young #writeblr #writer things #writers and poets #writerscommunity #fanfiction #fanfiction writer #ao3 writer #writerblr #writerscreed #writers on tumblr #female writers #writers block

[builtbybrokenbells]

Gold Dust Woman | xiii

Gold Dust Woman finally learns how to pick up the pieces and go home.

Read part twelve here

Listen while reading: unknown/nth - Hozier (listened to this and cried the entire time I wrote this 🤭)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader, Sam Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 13.5k

Warnings: ANGST, sadness, crying, breakups, feelings of regret/heartbreak, sad jake, swearing, smoking, some fluff! Sorry if I miss any!

only one more left after this one 😁 buckle up for the last bit of the ride (I was going to wait till the poll ended but I could NOT wait any longer. I’m so excited to finish up this piece as it’s been my main focus for so long. also lightly edited. my apologies 🫶🏻) as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!

Another city, another show. You were so caught up in the whirlwind of your life that you seemed to have forgotten what home truly was. Hotels were more familiar than you thought they ever could be, and you craved for a moment alone in your own house despite previously hating the emptiness that screamed from the walls. The show the night before went by without a hitch, and the weight of your decision was sitting heavy on your shoulders. You knew what you had to do, you just hadn’t yet gotten the chance to do it. After the concert came to a close, you were all too tired to even think about managing a night at the bar. You drove to the city over which you would be playing for tonight, and checked into the hotel rooms with no intent on leaving until the next morning. Dylan had fallen asleep in your bed with you, mid conversation about the high points of the night.

When you woke, she was still deep in slumber in her jeans and hoodie, neglecting blankets and pillows completely. You crawled from the mattress, a headache lingering but making a promise to leave as long as you had a sip of coffee. You showered, did your makeup, and dressed all before she even made a shift in her position. You opted to leave her there to catch up on her sleep, knowing that out of anyone, she deserved it most. You thought maybe the early morning would be the best time to execute your plan; not many were awake, and you might be able to reach Sam’s room without interception from anyone else. You knew that if you had to see any sad eyes or wistful faces, you would crack and crumble to the ground before you could even get to your destination. You slipped onto the patio attached to your room before making the leap to end the race, needing a moment to collect your thoughts before the inevitable end.

You sat on a flimsy deck chair, a cigarette smouldering between your fingers as you gazed out at the city. Despite your own drowsiness still existing, the world was awake and begging you to join it. Cars passed, honking angrily at pedestrians and other drivers in hopes it would make them hurry. The sun was bright, casting a glow over the ground that made even the busiest of streets seem inviting. Sidewalks bustled, and shops were decorated with neon signs inviting potential customers inside. You wondered if when the pain passed, you could resume some semblance of normalcy that you had been craving for so long. Then, you wondered if normal would be better than your previous sense of the word with Sam by your side, taking on the world with you. As excited as you were to find out, your hands still shook with anxiety for the future.

You were not doubting your certainty of loving Sam; you knew that to be true in every sense of the phrase, and you had known it long before your revelation in the bathroom the night before. Loving Sam was one of the easiest things you had ever done, and you knew that regret for picking him was implausible. Sam had an iron grip on your heart from the minute you met him, and he showed no signs of letting go. What you were doubting was your ability to choose the right path, and your willingness to let go of Jake. As much as you loved Sam, you knew you felt it for him, too, and you were not prepared to accept that you would never have Jake again. As much as love terrified you, letting go was also high on your list of fears. But, as they say, when one door closes another one opens, and this was not a grievous end as much as it was the next chapter of your life.

You loved Jake completely, and so much so that when you thought about it for too long it made your chest ache and your head spin. He did not lack anything in the slightest, but your driving force was justified by the fact he was just too similar to you. You shared the fear of intimacy as well as commitment, and you both struggled with vulnerability and communication. Because of that, the emotions housed between you were often volatile and difficult to navigate. You were a self-assured hot headed person who needed someone to ground you, and you feared that Jake would feed into that side of you because he housed so many of the same traits. So, it was not a lack of love causing you to walk away; it was simply because you knew you had the same ability to hurt him as you did love him, just as he did for you. Loving someone means taking risks, but a risk that large could be fatal, and you were not willing to sacrifice him or yourself at the hands of pleasure.

You thought for so long that your cigarette burnt to an end before you had the chance to enjoy it, and the sun had slightly shifted positions in the sky. Now, it was shining directly on you, illuminating the extent of your sins and showcasing it to anyone who cared to watch. No matter what the right decision was, hurt was inevitable, and you all but paved the way for it to be. It was only right for you to play the game in which you thought it should be, because dragging it out any further would only be torture for everyone involved. You tossed the cigarette to the ground, not even a cherry falling out to reminisce on the fire it used to have. You felt the same, discarded and out of place as your flame slowly flickered away. Your only hope was that after the day was through, you would begin to shine brighter than ever before.

When you went back inside, Dylan was still snoring peacefully with no sign of stirring anytime soon. You chuckled at the sight, grabbing a blanket that had been pushed to the foot of the bed and gently throwing it on top of her. You stepped towards the door, letting your hand rest on the knob as you gave yourself a pep talk. You knew what needed to be done, but had doubts about your strength to do so. Underneath your hard and confident exterior, you were nothing but a mess of cowardly second-guesses and insecure assumptions. You feared that once you stepped outside, any sense you had talked into yourself would flee and never return. With a deep breath, you swung the door open and stepped outside. The silence was astounding, and it seemed to be loud enough to deafen you. The sheer emptiness of the hallway was overwhelming, and it felt like it was slowly paralyzing you as it encouraged you to run circles.

With an unsteady nature, you stepped forward in the direction of Sam’s room. You made it halfway, then had to stop and reconvene your thoughts. “Why is this so fucking hard?” You whispered to yourself, running a hand through your hair. You leaned back against the wall, inhaling deeply in hopes that it would aid you in your search for confidence. You ran your palms across the fabric of your jeans, the scratchy material sending a shiver down your spine and regulating your body. “Okay, y/n. You can do this. It’s not that hard. Just knock on his door, and take it from there.” You whispered, knowing that if anyone were to see the state you were in they might have genuine concerns about your mental well being.

Just as you were about to continue on your journey, a door swung open just ahead of you. You snapped your head up, looking in the direction of the noise as a genuine fear flooded you. It looked like Sam’s door, which only prompted you to want to run. After a few seconds, a body stepped into view, and almost all of your nerves calmed. “Oh, hey, Aaron.” You sighed, laughing at your own foolishness.

“Y/n!” His eyes lit up as if he’d won a grand prize by finding you in the hallway. “I was just coming to get you. Makes my job easy.”

“Oh, me? No, actually, I-I have something I have to-“

“I think you’re going to want to come with me.” He chuckled as he walked towards you. He held out his arm, beckoning you away from the wall.

“No, Aaron, I have something really important to do, and-“

“This is more important, I promise you.” He said, waiting for you to join him. You watched him, hesitation clear in your face as you looked between him and Sam’s door. When he raised an expecting eyebrow at you, you let out a sigh that trailed off with a groan, slumping your shoulders as you walked to join him. “I will make up for whatever I’m taking you away from, but I really think you’ll be happy to come with me.”

“Whatever you say,” you sing-songed, letting him guide you towards the elevator. You both disappeared behind the doors, leaving Sam’s room as nothing but a memory as you were transported down to the first floor. “So, what’s this about?”

“It’s a surprise.” He chuckled. “I’m just thankful you were awake so I didn’t have to fight with you.”

“Come on, Aaron. You can’t drag me away from my very important things and not even tell me what it’s about.” You complained, tapping your foot against the ground as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Okay, how about this: I’ll tell you what we’re doing if you tell me what you were doing that was so important.” Your movements paused as you racked your brain for an answer. There was no way you were willing to tell him the true intent of your journey, and the elevator dinged before you could come up with an excuse. “That’s what I thought.” He laughed, walking out without another word. You let out a huff of annoyance as you followed behind him, but you could not argue with his clear advantage over the conversation. He led you into the lobby of the hotel, making sure you were close behind him in case you had any inkling to turn away. The room was oddly quiet for a morning; nobody seemed to be waiting impatiently to check out, nor did the staff seem hassled with work.

When you made it to the front doors, Aaron greeted the bodies that were waiting for you. You could not see past him, so who was there would come as a surprise once he stepped out of the way. When the doors swung open and your manager stepped forward to exit, your heart sunk and your stomach churned. Jake was looking down at his phone, sunglasses on and wearing what looked to be the clothes he slept in the night before. When you woke that morning, Jake was not the first brother you had hoped to have an interaction with, nor was he the one you had the courage to face. You barely had enough nerve to walk towards Sam’s room, and you knew you would not have the strength to maintain any kind of normalcy with Jake.

“Didn’t know you were coming along.” Jake smiled, joining you by the side, but his excitement did not seem to match his words. He knew you were coming, and he had been shaking with anticipation since finding out about it. This was not your idea of a worthwhile trip, not because you did not want to see Jake, but because you wanted to see him so badly that it made your chest ache. You did not know if you would make it through the day without cracking under his pressure, and you knew if you did let him back in, you would only be breaking his heart even further.

“Guess everyone’s full of surprises this morning.” You tried to smile, but it came out with more similarity to a grimace rather than anything welcoming. “Not even sure why I’m here.”

“He didn’t tell you?” You shook your head, avoiding looking over at him for as long as you could. When you felt his hand grace your lower back, you nearly jumped out of your skin. “Trust me, you’ll be happy you came.” He said, tightening his grip ever so slightly. You had to fight every molecule in your body to not give in to the touch, to lean into him and forget every single thing you had sworn to that morning, but you persevered. Even if it was with great difficulty, you still considered it as an accomplishment.

“I’ll take your word for it.” You breathed, climbing into the backseat of the vehicle they had waiting for you. He slid in beside you, closing the door gently and locking you into seclusion with him once more.

“Have I ever lied to you, Gold Dust Woman?” He asked, looking over at you. You caught his eye for the first time that morning, feeling the breath catch in your throat.

“Not yet, Jacob.” Out of all the times you wished you could be alone with him, you never once thought you would wish you could get away from him. You looked out of the tinted window, mindlessly drumming your fingers against your leg in a clear show of anxiety.

“You seem tense.” He noted, inching closer without even realizing it.

“Oh, just tired.” You lied, hoping it would ease his worry enough to give you some more time to collect yourself.

“You know you can’t lie to me, Gold Dust Woman.” He said, sneaking his hand towards you and settling it on top of your own. You closed your eyes, revealing in the intimacy that would not last long. You hated knowing that you would have to put the moment to an end even if you were enjoying it so much. No matter if you still wanted Jake, you knew that all the conclusions you had drawn were correct and of grave importance. The longer you let the dance continue, the worse the situation would end. You had hurt him enough to know that you no longer had any right to be selfish, even if you so badly wanted to.

But, delaying the inevitable had always been your area of expertise, and for simplicity’s sake, you thought it alright to do it one last time.

“Can we just… can we just be friends, today? Co-workers?” You asked, avoiding looking at his face. You knew the pain that stemmed from your words was evident and quick to surface. “Yesterday was just… it was a lot for me, and I think I just need to sort my thoughts out before jumping right back into it.”

“Friends…” he deliberated, slowly releasing his hold on your hand. “Did you just friend-zone me?” He asked, almost laughing at the incredulity of the question.

“Just for today, Jacob.” You assured him. Even if it was a lie, you knew it was for the best. Your intent was to get both of you through whatever Aaron had planned for you, and then deal with your personal matters afterwards. If you were to break the news to him so bluntly and so soon, recovery would not be possible in the near future.

“Just for today,” he pondered, looking out the window. “Don’t think we’ve ever been good at being friends, sweetheart, but for you, I’ll try my best.” And he was right. Jake had been much less of a friend than any of the other boys. For a long time, he was an active participant of the party lifestyle that was so accessible in your home, and he grew into an acquaintance. Neither of you were fond of the bonding process, and fell into routine of knowing each other while remaining strangers. Within the months leading up to his confessional session in your bedroom, you had managed to bridge the gap between stranger and friend. You were caught alone more often, sharing secret hangouts away from the others to avoid jealousy or confusion, usually filled with shared music and drunken fun. It was never anything serious, or so you thought. Now, thinking back to the few days you spent with him as a ‘friend’, it was clear to you that Jake was trying to tell you he loved you without actually needing to say the words.

You felt even worse recalling his silent show of adoration, because you realized you had always been doing the same thing to him as Sam had done to you, yet he never seemed broken or bent out of shape because of it. Jake had grown familiar with the idea of loss, but he had not let it get in his way. Friends was never in his itinerary, but when it came to making you happy, he would sacrifice everything including his own life. “So let’s try for a day,” you said, more intrigued by the idea. “Even if we suck at it, it’s worth a shot, right?” He looked back at you, thrilled that you had finally found the strength to look in his direction. He gave you a small smile, not pleased about the idea, but curious as to what it would be like. “Can you spend an entire day not trying to get me into bed?” He chuckled, holding your gaze as he thought of a response.

“That would be the ultimate test of willpower, but I suppose I could try. Do you think you can spend the whole day rejecting me if I can’t?” It was your turn to laugh, finding the nature of the conversation easygoing and comforting. You missed laughing with Jake, and you hoped that after the day was through, you would still be able to laugh with him again.

“I think I can manage.” You nodded.

“Alright, Gold Dust Woman. Friends for a day.” He said, extending his hand towards you. You grabbed it, shaking it with a little bit of force. You felt guilty knowing that he was ultimately agreeing to the loss of you, but you were enjoying the happiness too much to break his heart.

“Friends for a day, Jacob.” You reiterated, dropping your hand back to his side. The rest of the car ride was silent, both of you wondering how you would be able to separate love from your relationship. It was a daunting task, but you were both too stubborn to admit you would not be able to do it. When the car rolled to a stop in front of the venue you were supposed to play at later in the evening, you were confused as to why you needed to be here so soon.

You broke out into the day, squinting at the stinging sunlight in your eyes. You waited for Aaron to join you so you knew where you were headed. He guided you into the back entrance of the building where you immediately noticed a crowd of people much to large for so early in the day. You bit your tongue instead of inquiring about your curiosity, knowing that you would find out why you were there in only a few moments. Jake immediately found himself busy with a crowd of people who were stationed outside of his dressing room, and Aaron guided you towards your own. He had a smile stuck on his face, clearly excited to see your reaction to the news of what you would be doing. When you peered inside your room, Rachel, your stylist, was sitting inside and on her phone to pass the time. “About time you got here,” she said, looking up with a smile. “I was beginning to think that you would never show up.”

“I’m here,” you laughed, giving a small wave to serve as a greeting.

“Sit,” she ordered, directing you towards the wardrobe chair. You did as you were told, taking post in the seat as she grabbed some items from her suitcase of supplies. “We’re going to spend a lot of time together today.” She said as she ran her fingers through your hair.

“Don’t we spend lots of time together already?” You asked with a small smirk on your face.

“Today’s a special day,” she informed you, turning your chair so she could see your face. “Did nobody tell you why you’re here?”

“No, and I’m assuming by now that nobody will.” You didn’t mean to sound so annoyed, but after being pulled away from Sam so early in the morning with no good reason as to why, you couldn’t help but feel slightly put off. She laughed at your comment as your personality showed through and as usual, it didn’t bother her in the slightest.

“You look better today. Brighter, more relaxed. You sleep good last night.” Her comments hit you like a truck. You knew the last two weeks your appearance had been lacking, so run down by the exhausting back and forth you had found yourself in. Running without a destination was tiresome and pointless, but now that the finish line was in sight, you could not lie and say that you did not feel better just by seeing it. You had your energy back, and your mind was finally calmed down just by knowing that you had a real chance at happiness. Until it was in your grasp, though, you refused to accept that this was the end. Your hesitancy to accept finality was not because of doubt in your decision, but because you knew the brothers too well to think they would let this go without a last word.

“Yeah, we did sleep really good last night.” You said, closing your eyes as she began applying makeup to your face. “Think the tour life is just catching up to me.”

“Mhm,” she hummed, dusting eyeshadow over your eyes. “Or the Kiszka life, maybe?” You peeked at her through the eye she wasn’t focused on, surprised that she made such a bold comment.

“Well, they do say that you shouldn’t fall in love with your coworkers.” You said, closing your eye again. With how public your ordeal had been made, you couldn’t even find it within yourself to be upset that she was commenting on it.

“Especially not two of them.” You both shared a laugh, finding it easier to joke about it than make it into a conversation. “Don’t let them steal your shine, Gold Dust Woman. They may be special, but not as special as you.”

“I’m trying,” you assured her. Within a few moments, she was finished with your makeup and pointed you towards an outfit she had picked out for you. She allowed you to change before pinning everything in place, and only took a few moments to do your hair. “Casual today?” You asked, looking the mirror as she worked on the waves in your hair.

“Simple, but beautiful.” She said, spraying on hairspray as she continued. She styled your bangs, making sure they would stay in place before stepping away to take a look at the finished product. “What do you think?” She asked, waiting for an answer. You looked to the mirror, dawning over the detail of your makeup. It was so well done that you could barely tell you were wearing any. Your hair was perfectly in place, and your clothes matched the look effortlessly.

“Very 70’s,” you noted, looking down at the bellbottom jeans. The tank top you were wearing was very low cut, one half a burnt orange and the other a rustic brown. The fabric was connected just under your breastbone with a large gem, and the shirt settled just around your rib cage. She threw a leather jacket your way with a smile and shrug of her shoulders.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, it’s a great thing.” You corrected, throwing the tan coloured jacket over your shoulders.

“Then it’s showtime.” She smiled, ushering you to stand. She guided you into the hallway where groups of people were standing with cameras and sound equipment. You looked back over your shoulder at her, nervous about what was to come next. Between a cluster of bodies, you caught sight of a familiar head of hair. You felt relief flood through you, knowing that whatever Aaron was putting you up to, Jake would be there to do it with you.

He looked around, noticing you almost as soon as you emerged from your dressing room. He broke off the conversation he was stuck in, and pushed through the crowd to join you. When he was fully in your line of sight, you felt like you had been punched in the stomach from his beauty alone. He was dressed in an all white suit, a flash of his chest showing and the lower button of his shirt loose. He had a ring on his finger, a chain around his neck, and a smile on his face that matched the ethereal aura he possessed. You managed a smile to match his despite your anxiety, comforted by his familiarity and always happy to be in his company.

He joined you by your side, clearly itching to wrap an arm around you, but stuck his hand in his pocket instead. He was always open for a challenge, and if being a friend was the subject at hand, he would try his absolute best to achieve the desired outcome. “You know what we’re doing, yet?” He asked, looking down at you. Even if he was adamant on complying with (in his opinion) your ridiculous request, he could not hide the pure adoration he held for you in his eyes. It was hard to ignore, even when you weren’t looking for it, and the strength in which he felt for you nearly sent you to your knees. On top of trying to force yourself out of love with him, you had to try not to punish yourself for the choices you made. Breaking his heart was never something you intended, but it was something you both knew was a possibility.

“Dressing up and taking pictures? That’s usually all you guys do.”

“Ha,” he rolled his eyes, mocking your weak insult. “You’re so clever, you know.”

“I try.” You grinned. He was trying to ease your mind with humour, and it was working. The longer you laughed with him, the less you thought about anything else.

“Pictures will definitely be involved, but not necessarily the focus of the day.” He said, giving you a hint in hopes you would figure it out on your own. You looked around, thinking hard as your eyes gazed at the bodies in view.

“An interview?”

“There you go, sweetheart.” He nodded.

“Like, a real interview?” You asked again, the reality setting in. “For like, a magazine?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, chuckling at your excitement.

“They actually want to interview me, too?”

“Of course they do,” he said, finally reaching out and placing a friendly hand on your upper back. It did not strike you as romantic, rather just a friend sharing your elation. “I meant it when I said that you were meant for this, y/n.” Your heart warmed at his soft smile, and you couldn’t help but reach out and wrap your arm around him, too. It was not laced with any implication, much less like any other touch you shared with him previously. Instead, it was just a physical show of your appreciation for each other. Even if you were not going to end up with Jake, you knew that you had a wicked respect for him as a person and never wanted to see a lifetime without him in it. Even if you were in love with him now, you knew he had the ability to be the best friend you had ever had, and you were holding on to that knowledge to get you through the rest of the battle.

Aaron stepped towards you two, happy to see the comfortable dynamic the two of you were engaged in. He had a small fear of you two not wanting to try and get along for the occasion, especially since the last few weeks he had seen nothing but the two of you ignoring each other. “Alright, are you guys ready?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Jake nodded.

“They’re going to take some pictures first, then the two of you are going to sit and answer some questions. That sound good?”

“Together?” You asked. Aaron nodded. “Okay, sounds good.” The manager gave you both a smile, then nodded his head down the hallway as if to tell you to follow him. When he took off in a fast walk, you both followed suit without any further questions. He lead you down to a nearby room that had been cleared and set up with loads of photography equipment. There was couches off to the side, and beside the white screen for the photography background, both of your guitars were set in stands, clearly polished and shined for the occasion. “They look awfully pretty together, don’t they?” You asked, looking over at Jake. He gave a small chuckle, slowly nodding his head at your words.

“Yeah, they do.” He replied, looking off at the distance but not necessarily at the guitars in question. A sad smile crossed your lips, but you didn’t let it linger. Before you had a chance to move on from the minor hurt, a photographer was quick to join you in the room.

“Alright,” she said, looking between you both. “Let’s get some individual shots, then some together. Mr. Kiszka, we’ll do yours first, if that’s okay.”

“After you, Mr. Kiszka,” you noted, a laugh stuck in your throat. You stepped to the side, allowing him to take the centre of attention. It wasn’t long before she was positioning him and snapping pictures. Some of them on his lonesome, but mostly of him with his SG. You were thankful for Jake’s growing collection; after the tragic loss of his SG due to the altercation between him and Sam, he at least had a backup to play for the meantime. You couldn’t hide your smile as he posed, finding yourself lost in the small details of his face. Even if you knew that a relationship with Jake was not in your future, you couldn’t deny his blinding beauty. His presence took up all of the space in the room, and you couldn’t find it within yourself to complain. You didn’t mind living in Jake’s shadow for the day, as a guitarist and as a person, because he deserved the attention. His talent and his personality was well deserving of recognition, and you were happy to witness it first hand.

“You’re up,” Jake said, placing his guitar back on the stand.

“Okay.” You nodded, making a move to stand in his previous position. You tried to relax yourself as much as you could, lowering your shoulders and putting on a blinding smile. The flash from the camera was overwhelming every time it went off, but you tried your best to not let it bother you. She took a few pictures of you in different positions, getting your best angles before asking you to grab your guitar. You did so, carefully holding it in your hands and positioning it as she asked you to. Eventually, she asked Jake to join you. He grabbed his SG, waiting for her to direct him further. She stepped forward, guiding him towards you and placing you back to back. She helped you position your arms to show off the instruments before taking a step back to see if she needed to change anything.

You were standing, leaning against each other as you held your guitars upright, slightly turned to face the camera. She took a few with no smiles, and a few with. You couldn’t lie and say that you weren’t thrilled about the outcome; she showed you both the product of her work, and you had fallen in love with the last picture. You were both standing in the same position, guitars shining brightly under the studio lighting, and you had smiles on your faces so large that you would never be able to guess there was any turmoil beneath the surface. Your eyes were glistening with the joy of being with each other. Despite the impending heartache, you had to stop and appreciate the moment of warmth. It was a memory you would long remember, likely until the end of your time, and the fondness would be solely accredited to Jake.

“Can we get a copy of that one?” Jake asked, feeling the exact same as you did about the picture.

“I can edit it before I send it, if you’d rather me do that.” She offered, but he was already shaking his head before she finished speaking.

“No, that’s okay.” He said, looking to you in hopes you agreed.

“Yeah, just like that is fine.” You nodded.

“Alright, sounds good to me. I’ll get started, and the interviewer will be here in a few minutes.” She said, smiling at the two of you. “Thanks, guys.”

“Thank you,” you said, head still spinning at the idea of being plastered on a magazine. Jake placed a gentle hand on your back once more and guided you towards the couches as the photographer left the room.

“See, that wasn’t bad.” He offered, taking a seat first. You sat down behind him, shaking your head.

“It was so cool.” You tried to hide your own gushing about the situation, but it was evident in your features. He laughed at your face, unable to hide his feelings for you as he did so. He settled back on the couch, fighting every urge to touch you in hopes that you might give in first. You settled back, too, also finding it difficult to keep your hands off him. You hoped that once the truth was spoken and the storm had passed, the desire to be with him would somehow disappear.

A few moments later, a young woman stepped in, different from the one who took your pictures. Behind her, there was a crew of people with audio equipment who would take care of the filming. She moved to greet you, shaking both of your hands and introducing herself. She settled on the chair beside the couch, pulling out a clipboard from her bag. “Alright, I won’t take up too much of your time. We just wanted to ask a few questions for the next issue of Guitar World. This tour is the talk of the town, and Gold Dust Woman is one of the biggest up and coming bands around.” She smiled at you as she finished her statement. You thought you were going to choke on your own shock, your heart racing and your eyes widening as you tried to process what she was saying. You had no idea the interview was for ‘Guitar World’, and you had no idea that you had gained enough popularity for such a prestigious magazine to know you by name. “They’re going to film, just so I have the interview on record to write the article later, so don’t mind them.”

“Sounds good to me.” Jake smiled, eyes lingering on the interviewer for a second too long. You noticed, shamed at the rush of jealousy you felt flood your body. You had no right to feel such things about him anymore, and you needed to get yourself out of that headspace as soon as possible.

“So, if you guys are ready, we can get started.” She offered. You both gave a nod, not finding any argument for the statement. “Perfect.” She said, settling back in her chair and giving a thumbs up to the staff running the filming. One they gave her the go-ahead, she started slow, getting you both to state your names and your band’s names. After that, she jumped right into the bulk of the questions. She started with Jake, asking a few simple things about their new album and their plans for the future. She noted the Grammy nomination they had received very recently, and inquired about his excitement on the topic. Eventually, she turned to you and began her deep dive into your musical career. “So, y/n, you and your band seemed to come out of nowhere; have you been a band for long, or is this something new for you?”

“Well, we’ve been a band for quite some time now, but we mostly played at local bars and restaurants around home. We’ve always been fond of the idea of doing something more, but never really had the chance to do it until now.”

“That’s fantastic,” she noted, making sure you knew she was listening. “Now, ‘Gold Dust Woman’, is that a play on the infamous Fleetwood Mac song, or does it mean something more to you?”

“I suppose both,” you chuckled. “I’ve always been a huge fan of their music, and Stevie Nicks in particular, but I was actually given the nickname a while back by a very important person to me. When we agreed to tour with Greta, we hadn’t really talked about an official name. I brought up the idea and they all seemed to love it. From there it was history, I guess.”

“So it’s almost like you get to carry a part of that person with you wherever you go?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, unable to hide the smile that was forming. “I owe a lot to that person, even outside of music, too. They helped me get to where I am today, and I couldn’t think of a better way to thank them for it.” You tried not to look over at Jake, wanting to avoid any sneaking suspicions from the public that it was him you were talking about.

“How has touring been so far for you? You said this was your first time?”

“Yeah, it is. It’s been fantastic so far. Seeing the world, spending time with my best friends and doing the things we love most… I couldn’t have asked for better.”

“Do you have any plans for an album for yourself?” She inquired.

“We definitely talk about it, but we don’t really have a label or anything of the sorts. I’m actually a recording artist when I’m not on stage, so if we do something, I can see it just being a private event for us.”

“I think now you’ll have labels fighting for you; the energy you have on stage is electric, and I don’t need to mention the talent, because that’s just a given.” You laughed, feeling your cheeks heat with a blush at her statement.

“Thank you,” you replied, trying to ease your nerves as you spoke. “That’s the dream, really. Music has always been a passion, and to think we have a shot at doing it full time is absolutely mind blowing.”

“I think we’re all wondering about your relationship with Greta. Have you been friends for long, or only in the recent months?”

“Oh, yeah. We’ve been friends for years, now. It’s been really cool touring with friends, because even when we’re exhausted, the work still doesn’t feel like work. Just like a little family living life together.” She smiled at the statement, nodding along with your words. Then, she turned her attention to Jake.

“What are your thoughts on the matter?”

“Oh, me?” Jake asked. “I agree wholeheartedly. Given the opportunity to work so closely with such fantastic people has been nothing short of remarkable. They’re all very passionate about their work, and they have proven to us beyond anything we ever expected that they were meant for that stage. It’s been an honour to work so closely with them, and if I could have it my way, I’d tour with them for the rest of our careers.” You looked over at him, a small blush dusting your cheeks at his kind words.

“You guys really seem to fit together in terms of visuals; has there been any hardships along the way? I know that sometimes everything might not be as perfect as it seems.” After a moment, he gave a slow shake of his head.

“No, not that I can think of. The benefit of working with people who you connect with on a higher level is that even when we struggle and all of our ideas seem to clash, we always come out stronger.” He said, confident in his answer. “I can’t speak for the future, but so far, it’s been delightful and almost cathartic in a way to connect with people who live and feel the same way about life as we do.”

“Awesome,” she grinned. “And of course, this might be a loaded question, but from one musician’s perspective on another, what is your opinion on Gold Dust Woman?” He drew in a long breath, leaning his head back for a moment as he thought about his answer. Eventually, he looked over at you while he collected his thoughts, then looked back at the interviewer.

“I think that they embody the spirit of what music used to be, and in todays age, that’s incredibly hard to find. As a musician, I have so much respect for their work and the energy they put into it and as a guitarist, I feel like there is so much that I learn from her all of the time. It’s wonderful to share a love for something so beautiful, especially when it’s something we can teach each other more about every day. I’m grateful for her talent and all of the ideas that she brings to the table, because watching her work her magic on that fretboard has inspired me to work harder with mine.”

“You seem quite fond of her,” she noted. Jake let out a small laugh, nodding his head.

“Yeah, you could say that. She’s more than my colleague; she’s my best friend. Family, even. I mean look at her up on that stage when she performs. It’s like she’s the modern day Stevie Nicks. I hear it in her voice, in the passion and the love for music, but it see it in her eyes and her heart. She’s got this aura that follows her around wherever she goes. It screams rock and roll, and power, and all of the other wonderful things that come with it. No matter who you are, I think it’s hard not to admire her when she’s doing what she loves most. And aside from the talent, she’s just a great person, and I can confidently speak for all of us when I say that it’s been an incredibly inspiring experience to be able to work with her.”

You could not seem to tear your eyes away from him as he spoke, your throat constricting and your eyes threatening tears. You had never heard words from Jake that were quite like the ones he spoke, then. They were full of truth and more profound than anything you had ever heard before. You never would have believed someone could speak about you with such admiration, and the fact that he was willing to admit it to the world was overwhelming. You had to pry your eyes away from him, feeling yourself falling in love all over again despite knowing that you couldn’t have him like that, anymore. You had made your decision, and you had to stick with it. It was the only way you would make it out alive.

“How do you feel on that subject?” She asked you, pulling you out of the trance you were stuck in.

“I couldn’t agree more,” you shrugged. “I mean, Jake is a phenomenal guitarist and working so closely with someone who can create magic with an instrument has been enlightening and encouraging. Despite popular belief, it’s never been a deterrent for me to work with someone who is so skilled. If anything, it’s been a huge benefit, and I find everything he does it’s very influential. When I feel like I should give up, I can look to him and find the inspiration to keep going. He teaches me just as much about music as I have for him, and as a musician, I envy the talent he has. I hope that I continue to have the opportunity to grow and play alongside of him, and that I can continue to know him as a person. We owe our success as a band to Greta, but I owe my success as a guitarist to him.” You could feel him staring, but you did your best to fight the pressure to look back.

“My final question for you guys is quite a simple one; we couldn’t call ourselves a guitar magazine if we didn’t ask the most important question of all. What guitars do you both play?” You both laughed at the simple nature of the inquiry, looking to each other to see who wanted to go first.

“I have a 61’ Gibson SG. Although, back when they first produced the line of guitars, they sold them under the name Les Paul. It’s my go to, and my pride and joy. I have a few other ones I use, but that guitar is definitely my number one.”

“I mainly use my 57’ reissue. It’s a Les Paul Gold Top style, and it’s been my tried and true since I started writing music.”

“Alright,” she grinned. “Thank you both so much, it’s been a pleasure speaking with you. I hope to talk again sometime, and I hope that the rest of the tour brings just as much happiness as the first half has seemed to. Maybe next time we see each other, you’ll have a new record for us to fawn over.” She told you.

“Thank you so much.” You said, reaching out to shake her hand. Jake did the same, and the both of you settled back in your seat as the crew filed out of the room. You let out a long sigh, heart still pounding in your chest. When the room was empty aside from the pair of you, you finally turned to look at him. “Did you mean all of that?”

“Of course I did, Gold Dust Woman.” He whispered. “Did you?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, feeling the sting of heartbreak begin to make its appearance once again. You had no idea how to let him go after he said such beautiful things about you. He checked the clock on the wall, noting the time of day before he spoke again.

“Did you want to grab some lunch before soundcheck?” He asked. “As friends, of course.” He added, making sure you were aware he was still adhering to the agreement.

“That sounds like fun.” You agreed, almost wishing that you did not agree to be friends for the day. The longer you spent with him, the more your morals seemed to disappear.

“I’ll go get changed, then we can go?” You nodded, unable to speak any more words without either ending things forever or professing undying love for him, and neither seemed like an option you wanted for yourself. Without any other conversation, he stood and left you on your lonesome.

You leaned back into the cushions of the couch, praying that they would swallow you whole and hopefully end your incessant misery. You knew that going out with Jake would only worsen your predicament, but you couldn’t seem to refuse the offer. Much like the beginning, he was irresistible in his charm and impossible to forget. You weren’t even sure if the devil or the angel was behind the decision, and you didn’t seem to care enough. Whether good or bad, you were bound to enjoy the experience anyway. If you had to leave him, you would at least have one good memory to end the experience with. You settled your shaking hands, satiating your thoughts with empty promises to yourself as you stood. You knew that in no way was entertaining any further relationship with Jake the right thing to do, but you were just too much of a coward to confess it.

You walked into the hallway, almost immediately running into Aaron. He gave you a pat on the back and a few words of gratitude for your cooperation. You made it a note to genuinely thank him later on once the turmoil in your heart had settled. You walked towards Jake’s dressing room, waiting patiently for him to finish up. You did not have to wait for long, because within a few moments, his door swung open and he was back in your company dressed in his regular clothes. He had a pair of sunglasses settled low on his nose and a lazy smile on his lips. It only took a few seconds for sandalwood to choke you and your sin to catch up in time for the kill.

Wordlessly, you walked out of the back door of the venue. You headed in the direction of the street in search of somewhere to eat. The sidewalks were barren in contrast to the cars passing by, and you only had to walk for a short while before you came across a strip of buildings. There were a few local shops, but your eyes landed on a coffee shop that peaked your interest so much that you couldn’t bother to see what else the town had to offer. Jake noticed your expression, not needing to ask if that’s where you wanted to go. When it came to caffeinated beverages, you were always the first in line. He led the way to the front door, opening it for you and allowing you to go inside.

The vibe in the air was immediately calming and the smell of coffee filled your nose. You let out an audible sigh of relief just knowing that you would have one in your hand soon enough. Jake stood beside you in line, silent but relaxed as you both looked over the menus. “What do you want to eat?” He asked, turning his head to look over at you.

“I think the ham and cheddar looks good,” you noted before looking to the next board. “Oh, they have soup!” You exclaimed, keeping your voice quiet. He had to laugh at the glee you felt for such a simple idea. Before you could say anything else, he took a step towards the cashier. You followed behind him, but clearly didn’t need to aid him in ordering. He listed off your coffee, the sandwich and your favourite soup out of the list they were offering. He ordered for himself and paid before you could even think to grab your wallet. “You didn’t have to do that, Jake.”

“I know, I wanted to.” He assured you, moving down the line to wait for the order. When everything was ready, you both carried the items to a secluded booth in the corner. When you sat down, silence became you once more as if it were your destiny to have so much to say but be unable to speak it. You were so wound up with anxiety that you found it difficult to begin eating. Instead, you sipped at your coffee and found yourself delighted at the taste. Once again, he proved to you his ability to remember the details that nobody else cared to look for. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he noted, grabbing his phone from his pocket. He was occupied with the screen only for a moment before you felt your own vibrate. You grabbed it, checking the message he had sent you. There was an attachment, and when you clicked on it you felt a whole new wave of shame wash over you. It was the picture the two of you had gotten together during the photoshoot. “She emailed it to me during the interview. Figured you might want it too.”

“I do, thank you.” You muttered, never letting your eyes move from the photograph. It was an infinite reminder of the elation the two of you felt when around each other, and it would forever haunt you because you knew you had to let it go.

“Speak your truth, Gold Dust Woman.” He said, taking a bite of his own food.

“What do you mean?” You asked, cracking the lid of the disposable soup container.

“Something is on your mind.”

“No, I’m okay.” You shook your head, another punch of guilt thrown when you saw he had somehow also known what your favourite soup was. He seemed to know everything about you without you ever needing to speak the words, and it seemed like every higher power had intent to punish you, and they were doing their job splendidly.

“How many times do I have to tell you, you can’t lie to me, y/n.” You looked up to meet his eye, immediately crushed under the weight of his stare. You had to correct your previous thought; it was not the picture that would haunt you for a lifetime, but rather him as a whole. How strange it felt to be haunted by someone was still alive, but that was exactly how it felt to be in his presence in that moment.

“What do you want me to say, Jake?”

“Anything,” he pleaded, although not blatantly apparent in his desperation for an answer. “You didn’t ask me to be friends for a day because you can’t make a decision; you asked me to be friends today because you already have, and it’s not me.”

“No, Jake.” You shook your head hoping he would see reason. You hated that he could decode every lie and half-truth that came out of your mouth before you even spoke it. “It’s not like that,” it was like that, but you were nowhere near ready to profess it.

“Then what is it, sweetheart?” His voice was not condescending, nor angry. It was inquisitive, like he just needed to know what the truth was.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, closing your eyes to block out the tears that were begging to be shed. “I know that it hurts, but I don’t know where it hurts. It doesn’t stop, and I don’t think it ever will. And I know that we suck at being friends, because I’ve spent the entire day falling more in love with you than I ever was before. You get on camera, and you say those sweet things that nobody else has ever thought about me, and you look at me like I’m the best thing to walk this earth, but I’m not, Jake. I’m far from it, and you need to realize that, too.”

“So that’s your plan? You want me to stop loving you so you don’t have to pull away, first?” He knew, and he knew from the minute he saw you. You couldn’t back down and you couldn’t run away. He had you cornered, and you felt like you were going to snap under the pressure. “If so, that’s never going to happen, angel. I’ve loved you quietly for years, and I can keep loving you quietly while I hope you come back. Falling out of love with you has never been an option, so I’ll learn to live with it, even if it hurts.”

“And I’ll love you forever, even if it hurts.” You said, a grimace taking hold on your lips. “I can’t figure out how to stop loving you.”

“Then why are you trying if you haven’t made up your mind?” You looked up, tears blurring your vision as they landed on his face. He had locked you into stalemate yet again. You wished that you didn’t have to feel it anymore, but you felt everything. The pain sprinkled with regret, the shame mixed with sadness, and the love coated with desire. You felt everything for him, but you knew you shouldn’t. It was a terrible game to play, the one in which you tried to differentiate between right and wrong, especially when it came to him. From the very beginning, the rights felt wrong with Jake and the wrongs felt right. When in his company, you had no idea how to draw the line between needs and wants, and you had no idea how to implement any sort of morality when he was more powerful than any sin or holy force. “You can say the words, y/n. I can take it.”

“I don’t want to.” You shook your head.

“You have to.” He said, defeat clear in his face. He had lost, and he needed to hear you say it in order to begin to heal from the wounds.

“Jake,” you sighed, hands shaking as you reached for your coffee cup “don’t do this, now. That’s not why I came here with you.”

“Maybe it’s why I came, y/n.” He offered the idea, knowing that you hadn’t yet thought of that possibility. “I love you, and you know that, but if I’m not what you want anymore, I need to learn how to be your friend. It’s going to suck, but it’s something I have to do, and I have to start now if I’m ever going to be able to do it.”

“I love you,” you whispered, biting the inside of your lip to stop the tears from falling.

“But you love him more.” He said, watching your face to try and understand if he was reading the situation right. “It’s okay, angel.”

“It’s never been about that,” you shook your head. “It’s not about loving someone more, or even wanting someone more. It’s just been about what feels right, and what you and I have been doing is fantastic, but it’s just as hard as it is good. I don’t know if I can do that for the rest of my life.” Your heart ached for him, and the pain that was clear in his eyes. He had no fight left in him, and neither did you. It was a horrible thing to say, but it was the truth. You and Jake had been no stranger to struggle, and perhaps the complications lied within the lust that so often overshadowed your emotional need. You had forgone the emotional connection in hopes that sex would solve it for you, but the truth of the matter was that you both had no idea how to love one another despite feeling it so strongly. The good days were great, but the bad days were horrible. Days of ignoring each other, the name calling and yelling all pointed straight to failure.

You knew you could love Jake forever, but the work that you would need to do was extensive, and the idea alone sounded exhausting. He was worth the work, but the knowledge that heartbreak was still such a huge possibility if you chose him was a major deterrent. It was not a lack of love that was driving you away, rather just your fear getting in the way once more. If it were any normal type of pain, you would be able to see past it, but heartbreak over Jake was entirely new type of pain that was worse than any other.

“That’s okay, Gold Dust Woman.” He assured you, but you saw a glisten of tears in his eye. It was gutting, and you had to look away to stop yourself from crying, too. “We tried our best, and that’s what matters.” He cleared his throat, trying to cover the quiver in his voice, but you noticed it more than you heard the words he was saying. “No matter if you’re with me or not, you are the fire that burns in my heart, y/n. It has been a privilege to love you, and I really hope that maybe I’ll get the chance to love you again someday.”

“Jake,” you pleaded for him to stop. Your heart could not take the weight of his grief, and you were certain if he continued, you would succumb to the temptation of loving him.

“I get to speak my mind, too.” He defended himself. “I love you so much, y/n. More than I ever thought I could, and I’m happy if you’re happy. Loving you has never been a selfish thing for me; I do it even knowing that it could hurt me, because your happiness is above everything else. I’m just grateful to have spent time with you at all.”

“I love you, Jake.” You said, reaching out for his hand that was resting on the table. “I keep thinking that things would be easier if we did this the right way, but there is no right way, and it hurts no matter what I do. I’m trying to convince myself that it’s okay that this wasn’t for us, but it kills me. I wanted it for us so badly, but sometimes things just don’t work out.”

“I know, angel.” He said, running his thumb over the back of your hand. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

“Can we… just wait until we’re back at the venue? One last date, in love and happy.” You asked, but it was more like begging. You could bear the weight of the separation yet, and you would do anything to delay the inevitable.

“You don’t look very happy, baby.” He said, reaching across the table and swiping a tear away with his free hand. You closed your eyes, fighting back a sob as he held your face in his hand.

“I’m with you, so of course I am.” You breathed, but more tears fell just from speaking the lie of happiness.

“Come on, beautiful. Look at me.” He said, voice so quiet that it barely broke through the air of misery. You did as he wanted, eyes opening only to be met with his own saddened face. “Dates are supposed to be fun, there’s no need for tears.” His comfort served little purpose, because there was one falling down his own cheek as he tried to calm you. You lifted your hand, settling it atop of the one he had on your cheek. You managed a small smile through the mess of tears, uncaring for the public display of emotion.

“You’re right,” you sniffled, nodding your head. You wiped your face clean, taking a breath to calm yourself down. “Dates are meant to be fun.”

“So much for friends,” he chuckled, wiping his own cheek free of tears.

“I told you, we sucked at it anyway.”

“We did.” He agreed. “Destined to be lovers, stuck being friends.” He attempted to make the joke, but the reality of his words was harsh. You took another drink of coffee, hoping the beverage would warm your soul and give you the energy to make it through the day.

You both got lost in small chatter, ignoring the outside world and choosing to remain in the little comfortable bubble you had created in the cafe. Inside, nothing could hurt. At that table, you were free to love each other forever and never have to worry about stopping. Outside, the cold world would put an end to the relationship you had worked so hard to save. You wished you could stay in the cafe until the end of time, with Jake and away from any other worldly trouble, but it was just not plausible. Eventually, when both of your phones began to ring, you knew you had to move on and let go. Letting go was the hardest part of living, but you knew you had to face it sooner or later. You could only hope that when the storm cleared you could both move on and better yourselves from the mistakes you had made with each other, but the thought of learning from your mistakes with Jake only to use the lessons with another was sickening. As much as you knew that you needed to, letting him walk away was terrifying, and the thought of him loving another was gut wrenching.

When it came time to leave, you both were dragging your feet walking out the door. With his hand in yours, you began the slowest walk of your life, using a snails pace to avoid the inevitable end that came with your arrival. The building came into view like a grim foreshadowing of the future. Before your reached the door, you had to stop him in hopes of savouring one more moment of peace. You turned to face him, hand still resting in his own as you tried to catch his eye. His gaze seemed glued to the ground, fearful of looking up at you in case you caught sight of his weakness. “I love you, Jake.” You whispered, snaking your arm around his neck. He pulled you into him by your hip, so close to your face that your noses were brushing together.

“You could take any type of love, multiply by a million, and you still would only have a glimpse of how I feel about you.” Your heart was shattered, all of the pieces lying sharp in your chest and stabbing into you with every breath you took. You leaned forward, kissing him softly as a show of affection, but also as an apology for the pain you caused. For a few beautiful seconds the world seemed right, but as always, it had to come to and end. He placed another soft kiss to your lips, just like rubbing salt in a wound. “I’ll always be here, Gold Dust Woman. If you ever change your mind… I’m here.”

“You’ve always been too good for this world, Jake. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t be more for you.” He shook his head, face still unbearably close to your own.

“You are everything, angel.” He corrected, not willing to accept any slander towards you. “In another world, you and I are happy together. Just because it’s not this one doesn’t mean that you aren’t enough for me. Maybe you’re just too much, and I don’t know how to appreciate all of it yet.” He leaned up and pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment too long. He had to force himself away from you, knowing that it was doing nothing but hurting you both more. “Thank you for everything, y/n. These last few months have been so amazing, and it’s all because of you.”

“Thank you, Jake. You have no idea how much you’ve done for me.” He gave a tight lipped smile and a curt nod, knowing he shouldn’t continue feeding into the conversation, but wanting it more than anything.

“Here’s to being friends, Gold Dust Woman.”

“To being friends,” you let out a shaky breath, feeling the tears begging to make a return. You both let your stare linger for a moment longer before you eventually took a step towards the building. He watched you walk away, desperate for you to stay but unable to muster the courage to say it. He knew the most amicable thing was to let you go, but it was horrendous for him knowing that once you walked through that door, you would never be his again.

You nearly broke down the door with the strength you used to open it, tears flooding your cheeks once again as you walked towards your dressing room. As you stepped inside, you managed to stop your sobs just enough to catch your breath. Unfortunately for you, it was not enough to evade the questions of the person who took post in your room, waiting for your return.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” You looked up, shock and sadness written all over you with no way to hide it. As if the universe was playing a trick, another violent lesson after your months of nothing but learning, Sam was sat on your couch, looking up at you with major concern.

“Fuck, Sam.” You swore, wiping your face free of the mascara stains. “You scared me.” That was not what you truly wanted to say; in fact, you wanted to send him away and cry in solitude, to tend to your wounds without an audience, but you thought that maybe his comfort was exactly what you needed. The rainbow shining after the storm, sitting on your couch waiting for you just to prove that life could still be beautiful despite the pain.

“Sorry, Princess. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” you shook your head, taking a step towards him. “It’s okay, I’m okay, everything is okay.” You promised, but you were trying to convince yourself of the fact more than anything else. “I’m glad you’re here, I’ve been trying to find the time to talk to you all day.” You chuckled, shaking your head at the days events.

“Well, I’m here now.” He assured you, standing to meet you. He reached out, drawing you in to him with an open arm and an invitation. You gravitated towards him, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug. He responded with the same energy, holding you tightly and revelling in the warmth of your touch. You settled your head on his chest, taking a deep breath to relax your mind. In his arms, it felt like the war was over; you had won, and it was time to go home and rest. “Oh, I got you a coffee. I heard you were here early this morning, so I figured you didn’t have time to stop and grab one for yourself.” He said, pulling back from you only slightly. Your heart warmed at his words, comforted by the idea of him thinking of you.

“Thank you, Sammy.” You smiled, already feeling the pain begin to melt away.

“Oh, and congratulations on the interview.” He grinned, reaching behind him to grab the cup sitting on the table. “I know we’re supposed to be keeping our distance, but I just had to come and see you. Being on the cover of Guitar World is a huge deal, and I’m so happy for you.”

“It’s okay, I’m happy you’re here.” You assured him, feeling your heart speed as you prepared to confess all of the things you had been waiting to tell him.

“Me, too.” He smiled, handing you the coffee that was still hot. “I’m always happy to see you.” You closed your eyes, letting the cup warm your hands as you mustered the courage to speak. Before you said a word, you brought the lid to your lips and took a long sip of the beverage. As you swallowed it down, you almost grimaced at the taste, immediately looking down at the lid. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry.” He laughed, shaking his head. “I couldn’t remember how you liked it, so I got some cream and sugar on the side.” He said, suddenly recalling the bag of items that was also laying on the table.

You felt frozen, your eyes stuck on the lid marked with nothing but a big, bold red flag. The blood drained from your face, leaving you pale while dread seeped in to take its place. The interaction, although small, spoke louder than anything had before. A flash of memories took over you, recalling all of the coffee cups presented to you from Jake in the past, all marked with hearts and smiles, and the exact order that you would have had if you bought it yourself. You thought you might be sick, your stomach churning with unease and anxiety as you continued to stare down at the cup in your hands. The interaction was earth-shattering, making it obvious to you of one horrific thing; Sam knew you, and that was true, but just not enough. After months of dates at cafe’s and restaurants, he couldn’t seem to remember the simplest of things, and for some reason, the fact was abhorrent for you to choke down.

Sam knew you, but he did not know you as well as Jake did, and after all of this time, he was still not the one for you.

You had spent so much of your life wishing that Sam would notice you, that he would suddenly become the person you had always hoped he could be, but it was all too much to ask of him. All of those months ago, the euphoria of finally hearing that he cared about you the same as you felt about him seemed to overshadow the reality of the situation. Your love for Sam had clouded your judgement in the worst way possible, so much so that you had put him in a pedestal and opted to ignore every flaw and red flag, just so you could continue viewing him as this perfect person you had created in your mind. If Sam wanted you so badly, he would have cared enough to notice how bad you wanted him. He would have taken the step, crushed the fear of rejection and loss so he could have his chance to be with you, but he did not. He waited until the very last second to speak, until you were emotionally vulnerable and unable to see the difference. Sam loved you, and you loved him, but it was never enough to make the difference. If Sam was meant to be with you, the universe would have allowed it long before now, and it never would have sacrificed Jake in the process.

As much as you hoped Sam was the one, he was not, and your former self wept for the person you wished he could be. You were such a fool for Sam that you disregarded every warning the higher powers had been trying to show you. Jake making his move on you that night was not a cruel trick, nor a joke made by the universe to laugh at your struggle. It was a sign and even more so, a reminder that if Sam was meant to be yours, he would be. It was the universe begging for you to move on, to actually see the world you had been missing out on due to your blind loyalty to someone who refused to notice you. Jake approached you that night because he loved you wholly and selflessly, the same way you had been loving his brother. He took the chance despite knowing you were foolishly in love with someone else, and he did it with strength and courage, even if he knew he was bound to lose sooner or later.

Choosing Sam was not a way to avoid heartbreak; it was only the beginning of a lifelong struggle with what-if’s. Sam had the opportunity to love you for years, but never managed to take the leap. Jake loved you so much and so quietly that it killed him, and when he finally understood he couldn’t just stop loving you, he found the courage to confess despite his own fear of vulnerability. By choosing Sam, you would only be admitting to your inability to grow and change, and you wouldn’t be facing up to any fears that you had been trying so hard to conquer. Loving Jake had risk, but real love always did, and he was more than worth the risk. If you truly grew as much as you believed you did, you would have recognized that your fear was for good reason, but nothing close to what you previously thought it was; you weren’t scared of Jake breaking your heart, you were afraid of losing the only person in the world you had ever genuinely loved with every single part of you. It was not a fear of hurt, rather a fear of failure, but in that moment, you knew you loved Jake enough to make anything work. Failure wasn’t an option, because you would die before losing him.

As you sat, staring at the coffee in your hands, you challenged every single thing you had ever believed in. When you looked up at Sam, you knew that you had made a mistake. Sam was not your person, and he never would be, but you had already broken the heart that had sacrificed everything for you. With little hope and little faith, you knew you had to right your wrongs one last time, to atone for the sins you had been recklessly committing for weeks. You had already broken two hearts, and now you had to break a third before ever having a chance at peace. You knew you had to, but the struggle lied within finding the strength to do so. Your only solace was in the idea that you may still be able to salvage the relationship with Jake, and that after so much heartbreak, you might actually be able to mend two back together.

It was time to pick up the pieces and go home, and home was a person, this time, and not the one you previously thought it to be. Jake had always been home to you even if you failed to realize it, and your only hope was that home still had his heart open to you. If not, you wondered if you had the right words to get Jake to find room in his life again for a Gold Dust Woman, because his Gold Dust Woman was more than ready to love him for the rest of her life.

pale shadow of a woman, black widow, pale shadow of a dragon, dust woman

haven’t i always said that it’s not over until it’s over? ;)

TAGLIST: @itsdannysworld @gretavansara @jaketlove @laneygvf @freefallthoughts @psychedelicsprinkles @idontwannabeherenow @joshysgirl @sanguinebats @objectsinspvce @klarxtr @sinarainbows @jakesmustache @gvfpal @hellowgoodbye @profitofthedune

#gvf #jake kiszka #greta van fleet #sam kiszka #jake gvf #sam gvf #danny wagner #gvf fic #josh gvf #danny gvf #gold dust woman #gdw #jake kiszka x y/n #jake kiszka series #jake kiszka gvf #jake kiszka fluff #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka smut #sam kiszka x y/n #sam kiszka series #sam kiszka gvf #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka smut #daniel gvf #sammy gvf #builtbybrokenbells #josh kiszka

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

tags: ghost!gojo x f!reader, post manga, alternative au where the worst but not the worst happens, reader has a slight fear of cats, reader is an art therapist for satoru's nephew, loosley inspired by "would that I" by hozier &lt;3 a/n: this is untitled, but if people like it, I'd love to write another piece. I've had this idea for several weeks now, so I'm glad to have written something out of it. this piece is just self-indulgent and it feels like a prologue to something if that makes sense. part 2

You don't think you've ever known peace like this, the cool fall breeze causing your hair to gently brush over your shoulders while the leaves rustle, from a distance, the wind chimes ring with no rush, no sense of time seemingly passes in the air.

"you should probably head inside Hotaru, it's cold," you sweetly tell the five-year-old in front of you, adjusting his hat so that his ears are covered from the breeze. it was nearly 6, dinnertime, and your tutoring hours with the gojo clan member were now over.

his nanny watches you from the distance as she holds the door, opening it slightly so that the boy knows his time with you is over, but you can't help but to feel thankful she has given you an extra moment with the boy.

"why don't wanna eat with us?" he asks, and the pout on his lips is nearly enough to break your heart.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," you cup his cheek, "but only your family gets to eat dinner. I have my own home to get to too, but I promise when I come back we can have that picnic I promised you, yes?"

"only if you promise to bring your teddy with mine," he sniffles, and you want to smile at his negotiation skills, but the sniffles he makes reminds you once again how sensitive the boy was to the cold.

"alright, fine," you give him a warm smile, ushering him to walk towards the door that stands several feet away. "go, your nanny is waiting for you." and he nods, a small smile planted on his lips before his lips touch your cheek, his rosy, red nose coldly touches your cheek, prompting you to smile.

"bye bye, miss honey," he says, a name he's grown fond of calling you.

"bye bye, sunshine." a name you've warmed to call the child.

the boy then hurries off to his nanny, he excitedly pulls a leaf from the inside of his sweater, and you smile, remembering how you told him it was possible to trace a leaf (just like his hand in the shape of a turkey), and with excitement, the boy disappears into the house, following his nanny.

no more than 3 minutes pass before the woman, whom you guess is in her early 50's, approaches you. her grey hairs begin to reach the tips of her ears, and the wrinkles around her eyes adjust as she smiles, carrying a mug. you wonder if you'll be lucky to have wrinkles like that one day.

"he seemed excited," she muses, sitting next to you, handing you the mug.

"thank you,''

"he says you taught him how to draw a turkey using his hand. I've never seen a boy that excited since-"

"...since?" you politley whisper, catching her pause.

"nevermind," she smiles at you. "he just reminds me of a boy I used to babysit years ago, his uncle."

"oh,"

she nods, "you're welcome to stay here for the night if you'd like. I hear it might rain,"

"it's only a 50% chance, so I think I'll be fine." you chuckle nervously, "but thank you. can I... can I stay here? just for a few more minutes?"

hotaru's nanny looks beyond the garden, a nearby tree that you would always read under with hotaru tucked to your side makes her smile weakly. "of course, she says, take your time. let me know if you'll be staying with us for the night, it's never too late if you do." and in a moment, she gracefully bids you goodbye before heading in, leaving you alone in the garden.

you sigh, taking in a sip of the warm chamomile tea she brought you. the gojo clan was always a mystery to you, but working here for nearly 5 months definitely confirmed that the gojo's were always hiding something. it was just that you weren't a curse user, just a girl with above average matrilineal intuition.

there was always something special about hotaru, you realized instantly after meeting him that he carried a certain 'aura' to him. you tried to justify if with the fact that his family concealed his exposure to the world, but when hotaru would murmur soft words as he colored, or drew a picture of a man with white hair holding his hand (both smiling), you asked him who is that?

's my uncle, the boy told you, he comes visit me when no one's around.

there. that seemed to be the missing piece all along. not the fact that hotaru's mother was too sick to see her son, or the fact that his dad was always out for meetings, it was that the boy was connected to a family member that long passed.

so you let it go, not making a big deal out of it even though your brain itched to know more. does he see him? what does he tell him? is he safe? you wondered to yourself that day, but you would later find out that yes, he does see him and yes, he is safe. the boy does as much to tell you nearly everything he knows, and for that you are grateful to have his trust.

"my uncle says I should play with other kids, instead," he tells you one day, "papa says no, but I tell (uncle) that I have you,"

"oh, and what does he say?"

"nothing," the boy answers simply.

"does he... what does he think of me?"

"he just says to do a good job around you. says coloring is fun,''

you hum, nodding in thought. for the last month, hotaru was slightly more distracted. although he was doing a tremendous job in your art sessions, as his art therapist you couldn't help but wonder if his occasional absent mindedness had anything to do with the presence of his uncle.

but tonight, everything felt different.

"I can feel you're around," you say, loud enough for the trees to hear, but quiet enough to not cause any commotion. "you've been watching us for some time, and I know it." setting your cup of tea down, you focus your gaze on the tree, as if something were there. but that didn't feel quite right. something in the energy was not quite right.

to your left, you suddenly jump from your seat as a white cat passes by your feet, and you nearly shriek, startled. you weren't exactly fond of cats, but you didn't despise them. if you could always avoid them, you would, but being around them slightly made you self-conscious as you were scratched by one when you were younger, forming a mistrust around them.

with a slight huff and nod to yourself, you call it a night, standing up and leaving behind the mug of tea. from a distance, satoru watches as you make your way past the gates of the garden and he half snickers, half watches you in interest before the white cat slowly circles him. "aw, you scared her, didn't you mochi?"

the cat meows lazily, moments before yawning and taking a seat next to satoru who watches you from the same tree he also sat in when you read to hotaru.

#gojo #satoru #maybe I'll delete this later? #gojo satoru x reader #jjk #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen #gojo headcanons #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo satoru #jjk x reader #hozier does it again thank you my king for the inspo

[rorywritesjunk]

There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

Crocodile brings on a former assistant to manage Buggy and his workload. Buggy realizes he likes it when Taron praises him for the littlest things.

Rating: PG-13 to start. Chapters will be rated depending on content. Warning: Slow burn. AFAB nonbinary character. Buggy is touch starved and a virgin who thrives on praise. He's also a bit of a mess because he's thinking he's going to finally be killed by Crocodile. Set with the Cross Guild but won't be a poly fic (as much as I love that unf). However, mentions of past/somewhat present TaronxCrocodile stuff. Also Buggy is bratty, whining, a little pathetic. He doesn't want to do anything. Word Count: 1.8k A/N: My self indulgent submissive Buggy fic. This came from another fic I wrote for another fandom that I never posted but it was pure self indulgent. I decided to do it with the clown and change it up. Originally thought of making this a dom!Buggy fic but after a poll and how I started writing it, I decided to stick with sub!Buggy.

Title comes from "Take Me To Church" by Hozier.

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3

Chapter 1

Taron stood in front of the entrance to the large circus tent. This was where they were instructed to go after being informed of their new job from their former employer who sought them out. Sir Crocodile appreciated how Taron kept things in line with his casino, managing schedules, appointments, and other things he was too busy to deal with at the time. After several meetings between Mihawk and Buggy, where he saw the latter was refusing to do his share of paperwork, forgot about meetings or showed up late, and every other little thing that came with this role, Crocodile made the decision for Buggy in getting him an assistant.

With his connections, Crocodile made contact with his former assistant, requesting their presence on the island for a new job, which Taron was delighted to have. They enjoyed their time working with him before and were pleased they had the opportunity again, but when they arrived with their bag in hand, ready to work with Crocodile again, they were confused when they were instructed on where they needed to go.

Once they arrived at the tent, standing in front of it as they wondered if they could just return to their old job, they decided to take the challenge. Crocodile said this individual was difficult, that he mismanaged paperwork, missed important meetings, the likes, and that Taron was brought in to put Buggy on the right track. 

They survived working with Crocodile so there was no doubt they could survive this Buggy the Clown. 

Crocodile gave Taron instructions on what was needed as well as permission to enter Buggy’s tent to find him. With a flyer in their hand they knew who to look for: a clown with blue hair and a red nose. Shouldn't be too hard. So they entered the tent, noticing this was an actual circus with a lion, performers, everything, but no Buggy in sight. 

They went looking, ignoring the stares, whispers, and pointing in their direction as they went to find his room. They were told he was lazy, that he may be still in bed, so as they walked around, they found what they figured to be his room, another area in the massive tent with walls and curtains for a door. Not knowing how to properly knock, they let themselves in.

The bed in the middle was fairly large, though smaller than Crocodile’s. The lump on one side of the bed had to be Buggy, so Taron set their bag down and went over to it, giving him a shake.

“Captain Buggy?”

Nothing, he kept snoring. Taron gave him a few more shakes, increasing the force each time. When that didn't work, they yanked the blanket off only to throw it back on.

“What kind of pirate sleeps naked?” They muttered before giving the mattress a kick and shouting, “Captain Buggy, the Marines are here, wake up!”

That seemed to do it. He jumped up, blankets falling off and exposing himself as he stood up on the bed, eyes wide with fear as he turned his head frantically for the threat. “Where?!”

Taron pushed their glasses back up their face before putting their hands on their hips, looking up at him. Buggy blinked sleepily down at them and frowned.

“Who are you?”

“Your new assistant.”

“My new- I didn't hire you!”

“No, Sir Crocodile did.” They informed him as Buggy dropped to his knees on the bed, looking at them with a frown. “He feels you need help managing your schedule and paperwork so he brought me on to help you.”

“Why did he decide that without me?!” Buggy demanded, looking them over. Taron wasn't dressed flashy enough to work for Buggy. Their dress was too similar to Crocodile’s, from the cravat to the shoes. They looked like someone who Buggy would end up owing money to and having his knees broken for not paying them back. They were shorter than Buggy, wider as well, looking like it would take a lot to knock them over. They wore glasses, their brown eyes looking at him through thick frames. Long hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, keeping it out of their face as they looked at him.

“Because he wants to be sure the person could get the job done.” Taron replied as they crossed their arms. “You're still naked.” They went over to what they assumed to be his wardrobe and opened it, looking for something for him to wear. “I worked with him for ten years so he knows I can handle anything.”

They reached into the wardrobe, pulling out a shirt and pants for him. They didn't care what he wore as long as he was dressed, but when they turned and saw him sitting on his bed, blanket over his lap as he looked at them sulkily, maybe it wasn't the right outfit.

“I'm not wearing that.” Buggy said with a glare. “Those two don't go well together.”

Taron shrugged. “I don't care what you wear, but you have a meeting in ten minutes with Mihawk and Crocodile, so I suggest you put something on for it.” They looked back at the clothing options before looking at Buggy with a grim expression on their face. “They explicitly said for you to not be late to this one.”

“Ten minutes?!” 

“It was fifteen but we wasted five minutes.” Taron told him as Buggy snatched the clothes from them and hastily put them on. They found his hair brush and handed it to him. While he wrestled with bedhead they retrieved his bandana and hat. “This should help.”

“I’m dead if I’m late again.” Buggy grumbled as he put his hair up before tying the bandana on to keep it all in place. He glared over at Taron as he grabbed his hat. “Not that I care, but what’s your name, you pest? Coming in here and waking me up late for my meeting, I should fire you for that!”

Taron looked amused by the empty threat. “My name is Taron and you don’t have the authority to fire me, only Crocodile.”

“I’ll take this up with him then!” Buggy snapped as he headed out of his room with Taron following after them. The two of them made it out of the tent before Buggy stopped and turned around. “Stop following me!”

“I’ve been instructed to make sure you make it to the meeting.” Taron told him. Buggy glared at them before he started walking again, grumbling under his breath about annoying assistants and other unkind things. Taron wasn’t bothered in the slightest by his petulant behavior. Their previous employer was a politician who didn’t know what he was even doing in his role so Taron did all of the work while he was just the face of the office. Once they reconnected with Crocodile and were told the job expectations, Taron realized they would be doing the same job again, but Crocodile would deal with the clown if he got out of hand. 

“I don’t need an escort!”

“Mm, I don’t care.” Taron said as they followed behind. “We’re almost there.”

Buggy turned his head to glare at them once again while his body kept stomping along. Taron didn’t flinch at his Devil Fruit powers. They had seen plenty while working with Baroque Works. 

They made it all the way to the meeting room where Crocodile and Mihawk were already seated. Buggy stomped over to his seat and sat down, still glaring at Taron for how his day was already going. They said nothing as they took a seat beside them, pulling a pen and notepad from their pocket. Crocodile glanced over at Buggy with a smirk.

“He’s early.” He said, cigar clenched between his teeth as he leaned back in his chair. “How did you manage that?”

“I informed Captain Buggy that the meeting was in ten minutes.” Taron told him as they clicked their pen. “It got him moving, which is what we needed.”

Buggy’s jaw dropped at being lied to as Crocodile chuckled and Mihawk looked over some papers. The meeting started without much fuss, just Buggy pouting in his seat while Taron took notes.

~

“I don't like you, Taron.” Buggy announced after the meeting. “You wake me up from my beauty sleep, lie to me, and then spend the meeting interrupting my thoughts!” He turned to look at Crocodile. “Why did you hire them for me? They're terrible!”

“They’re less likely to kill you than me, clown.” Crocodile told him without looking up from a stack of papers. “You’ll do as they say, understand?”

“What?! They said they were my assistant!” Buggy complained as he pounded his fist on the table. “They’re supposed to listen to me then!”

“I listen to Sir Crocodile.” Taron said as they looked over their notes. “And I only interrupted your ‘thoughts’ because you were nodding off in the meeting.” They looked over at Buggy. “As for liking me, I’m not here for you to like me. I’m here to make sure you do your job, Captain Buggy.”

Buggy stared at them for a moment before looking pleadingly at Crocodile. He really didn’t want an assistant, especially one that previously worked for Crocodile. Who’s to say Taron wouldn’t threaten to kill him with every conversation, or actually follow through with it? He wanted to throw a fit over this, that at least he should get to choose, but Crocodile glanced at Buggy with a look in his eyes that scared the clown into sucking it up and nodding.

Just because he was agreeing now didn’t mean he would behave, however. 

~

Taron was given space in Buggy’s tent for a room. They put their things away before walking off with Crocodile, leaving Buggy and Mihawk behind as he continued pouting about the situation. If the two really thought he needed an assistant, they should have said something. He could have asked Alvida or someone, not have Crocodile 2.0 helping him out. Buggy had his eye on the assistant as they were in their new room, putting things away from their one bag. It was just some clothes, that was it, no personal items of any kind. It was a little odd to Buggy.

“I don’t trust’em.” He mumbled as he watched them leave. For all he knew, Taron was brought in to eventually assassinate him once Crocodile finally had enough of him. It was inevitable now. He wondered if he should have Cabaji start working on his obituary soon. 

He waited a few minutes before returning to the tent. Buggy wondered how much longer he had left to live.

#buggy the clown #taron x buggy #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy #opla buggy x oc #one piece fanfic #one piece oc #one piece original character #nonbinary character

[giantmushyfriend]

The Ineffable Husbands are ABBA coded (I went overboard on this one) (S2 SPOILERS) (I’m not sorry)

I see your “the ineffable husbands are so Hozier coded,” and your “they’re so Taylor Swift coded,” and I raise you a “the ineffable husbands are incredibly ABBA coded.” 

Listen, I know we all know about Aziraphale’s playlist having Angeleyes on it, which makes perfect sense given where Series 2 left us. I mean, come on; 

“Look into his angel eyes

One look and you’re hypnotized. 

He’ll take your heart and you must pray the price” 

And

“Sometimes when I’m lonely, I sit and think about him 

And it hurts to remember all the good times 

When I thought I could never live without him 

And I wonder, does it have to be the same

Every time? When I see him, will it bring back all the pain? 

How can I forget that name?” 

It’s obvious that this song, from a post-Series 2 standpoint is Aziraphale (and also Crowley) analyzing their relationship. It’s them admitting to themselves that although the other caused them pain, they still miss and love each other, even if they aren’t willing to admit it yet. 

However, this isn’t where the ABBA train ends. We can see Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship, both the highs and lows, in several different ABBA songs. Do you want to talk about how Crowley is probably feeling after the finale? And how he’ll probably be feeling when we get our AziraCrow reunion in S3? Let’s look at The Winner Takes It All. The entire song relates to how Crowley see’s the split and different aspects of their relationship. 

“I’ve played all my cards

And that’s what you’ve done too

Nothing more to say

No more ace to play

The Winner takes it all

The loser’s standing small” 

Tell me this is not his confession scene. Crowley laid it all out there, and it wasn’t enough. They both have laid out what they think is best, and neither of them was pursued (mostly because of the bad communication). Heaven’s influence on Aziraphale and his inherent want to do good won out, the cards were never in Crowley’s favor in this situation. He’s left with essentially nothing when Aziraphale leaves, his one constant, his one tether to this world, is gone. 

“I was in your arms

Thinking I belonged there

I figured it made sense

Building me a fence

Building me a home

Thinking I’d be strong there

But I was a fool

Playing by the rules”

Talking about how Crowley built a home within his relationship with Aziraphale, and how he feels like a fool for relying on it after its been stripped away. 

“The gods may throw a dice

Their minds as cold as ice

And someone way down here

Loses someone dear” 

In reference to God’s ineffable plan, if Aziraphale leaving him and choosing Heaven is really a part of it. To God, this separation is just a smaller part of a larger scheme, insignificant, but to Crowley, it is life-changing. He’s lost his best friend, seemingly for good, all in the name of “the greater good.” 

“Somewhere deep inside

You must know I miss you

But what can I say?

Rules must be obeyed

The judges will decide

The likes of me abide”

COME ON. Crowley doesn’t believe that Aziraphale could ever love him, he’s a demon, and to the rest of the world, he is inherently below Aziraphale. Those are the “rules” of the world, and this is a dejected Crowley saying that maybe they can’t rewrite them. This is him, in his darkest moment, telling himself and Aziraphale that there is nothing they can do, rules in the end have to be obeyed and the likes of him have to abide by them eventually. 

To an extent, Aziraphale is the “winner” in this split. He’s the one that gets to leave, seemingly unbothered by the pain he is causing Crowley. We as the audience know differently, but Crowley doesn’t. In his perspective, Aziraphale has won the game. 

And their reunion in (hopefully) S3?

“And I understand

You’ve come to shake my hand”. 

Admitting defeat. Good game. 

You want Aziraphale to reflect on his mistake of leaving Crowley, which he inevitably will? Look at One of Us. 

“My picture clear

Everything seemed so easy

And so I dealt you the blow

One of us had to go”

Aziraphale is obviously still working through his toxic relationship with Heaven as an institution. In his eyes, with his belief in the greater good, everything seems easy. He can go to Heaven, make it worthy of beings like Crowley, and make it better. But when Crowley says he doesn’t want to go with him, Aziraphale knows he has to make the choice. And because of his inherent belief that Heaven can and is good, he chooses them, dealing the blow to Crowley with that final “I forgive you.” 

“One of us is crying, one of us is lying 

In a lonely bed

Staring at the ceiling

Wishing she was

somewhere else instead

One of us is lonely, and one of us is only

Waiting for a call

Sorry for herself, feeling 

stupid, feeling small

Wishing she had never left at all”

The entire chorus is Aziraphale wishing he could take back what happened that day. It’s him wishing that he was back on Earth, in his bookshop with Crowley. It’s him wishing that Crowley would come back to him. It’s him completely enveloped in regret. 

“I saw myself 

As a concealed attraction. 

I felt you kept me away 

From the heath and the action. 

Just like a child 

Stubborn and misconceiving

That’s how I started the show 

One of us had to go 

Now I’m changed and I want you to know” 

As we’ve already discussed, Aziraphale believes that Heaven is inherently good and thus must just need a push in the right direction. To him, he could be that push. When Crowley stands firm in his belief that Heaven won’t change, a part of Aziraphale had to have taken offense to that, because he’s partially hearing “Heaven won’t change, let alone for you”. Aziraphale, for his entire existence, has been told his efforts aren’t enough. So when he’s given the chance to make an impact, to finally do what he thinks is right, he jumps for it. He’s stubborn in his core beliefs that there is an inherently good and inherent evil, which we as the audience have come to learn isn’t true. To us, and probably to future Aziraphale, his past self was misconceiving. This is both present and future Aziraphale admitting that he made a mistake choosing Heaven over Crowley. This is Aziraphale pinning for the life he could have had with Crowley, for the life he gave away for what he thought was right. 

You want both of them to look back on the good times of them traveling the world throughout time before all of this Second Coming shit went down? Look at Our Last Summer. 

“I was so happy we had met

It was the age of no regret” 

“We took the chance

Like we were dancing our last dance 

I can still recall our last summer

I still see it all

In the tourist jam

Round the Notre Dame

Our Last summer

Walking hand in hand

Paris restaurants

Our last summer

Morning croissants

Living for the day 

Worries far away

Our last summer

We could laugh and play”

Do you want some angst where they both are looking back at what went wrong? Look no further, SOS has got you covered! 

“I try to reach for you, but

you have closed your mind. 

Whatever happened to our love? I wish I understood”’

That’s literally their final argument before Aziraphale leaves with Metatron. It’s them reaching for each other, both of them saying “Stay with me” but the lack of communication has shut down all hope. 

“When you’re gone, how 

can I even try to go on?”

“You made me feel alive,

but something died, I fear

I really tried to make it up

I wish I understood” 

Crowley in his last stitched attempt to make Aziraphale stay: the kiss. He tried to make it up, but it didn’t work and he doesn’t understand why it really didn’t. 

Oh, are you tired of angst? Do you want some happy ineffable husbands? ABBA beat us to it! You better believe that Crowley jams to Take a Chance on Me at least once a day. 

“Gonna do my very best 

and it ain’t no lie

If you put me to the test, if 

you let me try

Take a chance on me” 

“‘Cause you know I’ve got

So much that I wanna do 

When I dream I’m alone 

with you, it’s magic

You want me to leave it

there

Afraid of a love affair

But I think you know

That I can’t let go” 

“Oh, you can take your time baby

I’m in no hurry

Know I’m gonna get you” 

The entire song is Crowley asking Aziraphale to just give him a chance. To let him prove how much he loves him. 

Do you want them talking about that first Doomsday where they turned against their respective sides for each other? Fernando. 

“There was something in 

the air that night

The stars were bright, 

Fernando

They were shining there 

for you and me

For liberty, Fernando

Though we never thought 

that we could lose

There’s no regret

If I had to do the same

again

I would, my friend, 

Fernando” 

How about them talking about how much they love each other? I’ve Been Waiting For You, Waterloo, Super Trouper, and Lay Your Love On Me sums it up perfectly. 

I’ve Been Waiting For You:

“You’re something I’d been

pleading for

I love you, I adore you

I lay my life before you

I’ll have you want me more

and more

And finally, it seems 

my lonely days are through

I’ve been waiting for you” 

Waterloo:

“Waterloo

Promise to love you

forevermore

Waterloo

Couldn’t escape if I

wanted to

Waterloo

Knowing my fate is to be

with you”

“And how could I ever refuse

I feel like I win when I lose”

Super Trouper:

“So I’ll be there when you

arrive

The sight of you will prove 

to me I’m 

Still alive, and when you

take me in your arms

And hold me tight

I know it’s gonna mean so much tonight” 

Lay  All Your Love On Me

“It was like shooting a 

sitting duck

A little small talk, a smile

and baby I was stuck

I still don’t know what

you’ve done with me

A grown-up woman

should never fall so easily

I feel a kind of fear

When I don’t have you

near

Unsatisfied, I skip my pride

I beg you dear”

“I used to think that was sensible

It makes the truth even

more incomprehensible 

‘Cause everything is new

And everything is you

And all I’ve learned has

overturned

What can I do?” 

In conclusion, the ineffable husbands are probably the most ABBA-coded thing I’ve seen in a while. And no one talks about it! Absolutely no one! I think part of it comes from the fact that Series 2 of Our Flag Means Death has already been lumped with ABBA, but they both can be ABBA coded! Aziraphale and Crowley inspired all of the songs on the Mamma Mia set list, and you can pry that fact from my cold, dead hands. 

#what have i become #Seriously #what happened here #ineffable husbands #ineffable divorce #good omens #good omens spoilers #good omens season 2 #go spoilers #go2 spoilers #good omens season two spoilers #go season 2 #go season 2 spoilers #abba #neil gaiman #all hail gail #michael sheen #david tennant #homosexuality make brain go burrrrrr #go watch season 2 of good omens

[bookish-whore]

Never Made A Difference

Rhysand x Reader

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: depressive thoughts, slight angst, suggestive language, implied sa discussion

A/N: Based on the snippet of Hozier’s new song from his unreleased album on Tik Tok. I’ve been thinking about it constantly and thought it would make for a cute fluffy fic. This is also my first time writing for Rhysand so let me know what you guys think!

My Masterlist -> Here

Join My Taglist -> Here

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Today began like any other, I opened my eyes to find that my beloved city was shrouded in a dark mist, clouds hanging low as the continuous pitter patter of raindrops hit the ceiling. In all honesty, I found the overcast sky and chill breeze comforting, the dark clouds mirrored the bags under my eyes while the smell of rain reminded me of him and all I wanted to do was throw the covers over my head and ignore the world.

But today was my birthday.

I knew that disappearing from the world wasn’t an option, and my friends probably had some extravagant dinner party planned to take my mind off today and the fact that it had been fifty years without him. Feeling sorry for myself, I made my way to our closet, running my hands over his clothes, stopping every so often to bring my nose to the fabric as if his scent would still be there.

It had been ages since the smell of rain and citrus lingered in our shared space.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he knew what day it was. I wondered if time felt longer Under the Mountain, I wondered how he spent his days, whether he was eating enough, whether he was safe. The mere thought of him so alone, in that place instantly made my eyes well up with tears. I shook my head thinking back to the last words he had said to me.

I was in the townhouse, making a cup of tea, the sound of our Inner Circle laughing in the other room when it came through. His voice roaring in my head telling me it had been a trap. That Amarantha had enslaved them, he told me to protect Velaris, to protect our people and to remain with our Inner Circle and most importantly to stay away.

Then softly with the remnants of his power he spoke only to me. I think back to those words every day. “Y/n my love, my wife, my mate…I will find you again, I don’t care if it takes five hundred years, if it takes a thousand years, no amount of time with you will ever be enough and I promise you we will have more time.”

I brought my hands to cup my face, allowing myself this moment to break down. it had been so long since I had seen my mate, felt his touch, his kiss, his body against mine. I crumpled to the floor cupping one of his shirts against my chest as I cried.

As the sobs subsided, I laid there on the floor bringing my left hand up to look at the intricate swirling tattoo that adorned my ring finger and left hand. Before our mating ceremony, Rhys and I had agreed that jewelry was too easily lost, and we wanted something more permanent, so we made a bargain and on days like today it was all I had of him, so I desperately clung to my hand and the memory of him.

A knock sounded at my door, pulling me from my personal pity party.

“y/n” Cassian prodded, his voice gentle and soft from the other side of the door.

“Come in” I said sitting up from the floor, wiping the tears from my face as the door opened

Cassian didn’t speak. He simply got down on his knees and pulled me into a tight embrace. I couldn’t help the swell of emotion and my eyes once again pooled with tears.

“I j-just miss him so much Cass” I said into his chest, fresh tears falling down my face

“I know y/n…we all do, but he’s trying to protect us. If he could communicate with us, you know as well as I do that he would be annoying the hell out of us at the first opportunity.”

I laughed at that, using my sleeve to wipe the wetness from my face. Cassian brought his hands to help, his thumbs wiping under my eyes. If anyone knew how I felt through all these years it was Cassian and Azriel, we had all bonded over the years in Rhys’ absence.

We had made a lot of progress in the fifty years he was gone. Initially, we had all refused to believe what Rhys had said at first, but Cass and Az immediately went into an unhinged stage of denial. Amren was the one to speak sense into them, getting them to calm down so that Mor and I could drug them to make sure they didn’t act irrationally. Then came the anger. Cass and Az were inconsolable, they would spar all day until their hands were bloody and their bodies practically gave out.

Mor and I resorted to alcohol, we would drink and then we would cry, and then we would break things. I decided to completely ignore the bargaining stage and moved right into depression. I don’t know how the others were coping all I knew was endless darkness. I didn’t get out of bed for weeks, I couldn’t bathe, I couldn’t eat…eventually Cass, Az, Mor, and Amren staged an intervention and Madja got involved and I started processing what had happened, that he was gone.

And that brings us to where we are now, reluctant acceptance. We all understand why he’s gone, and we all know there is nothing to be done. Some days, like today, are worse than others, but we have each other to get us through.

“Happy Birthday y/n” Cass said softly pulling a small box from the pocket of his leathers.

“You know you didn’t have to get me anything Cass” I said gently taking the box from him

“And you know that Rhys would absolutely spoil you if he was here, and as his brother it’s my job to take care of you in his absence, now shut up and open it” he said with a sly smile.

“Okay, okay”

I gently untied the ribbon that kept the box closed, opening the lid to reveal a simple but intricate oval locket, it was silver, and the front was engraved with an outline of Ramiel, her three stars shimmering above each peak, the same image that adorned the tattoo on Rhys’ knee. I gently opened it to find a photograph of Rhysand and I on the inside. I wiped away the tears that fell as I stared at the image longing for those violet eyes to sparkle with a witty comment, for his mouth to part into one of his signature smirks. I stared at the photo wishing that it was him in front of me, but for the time being this would suffice.

“Cass- I-I love it” I said softly

“He’ll be back y/n, I don’t know when, but I can feel it in my bones. I know he’s going to find a way back to us, back to you.”

“I know Cass, I just- I need to know that he’s okay. The bond…it’s just been silent for all these years I don’t know if I would feel him hurting or i-if the magic that Amarantha has Under the Mountain nullifies his ability to feel me. I have tried so hard just to feel anything and its like an impenetrable wall was put up the second he walked into that party.”

“I know” Cass said solemnly his eyes casting to the floor between us “look, because I love you I’m going to give you an hour to mope. But after that hour you are going to get up and get ready for the spectacular day we have planned for you.”

“You say that every year Cass”

“And every year we manage to lift your spirits, this one won’t be any different.”

I smile and nod my head, he was right

Cassian stood from the floor, reaching out his hand gesturing me to do the same. He helped haul me from the floor before turning and walking towards the door.

“Azriel will come get you in two hours” Cassian said, his hand lingering on the door handle “and y/n…Happy Birthday”

“Thanks Cass” I said as he opened the door and closed it shut behind him.

-----

I was slipping on my boots when Azriel knocked on the door. I could tell it was him from the distinct smell of night and cedar, that and the fact that he was always punctual and it was two hours from my conversation with Cassian to the dot.

“Happy Birthday y/n” he said as he stepped through the doorway. He was dressed in his usual leathers, cobalt siphons gleaming in the room’s dim light.

“Thanks Az” I said forcing a small smile to my face

“How are you feeling today” he asked, his shadows lazily swirling at his feet.

“Like I always do on my birthday” I say softly

“Well, Mor has outdone herself this year so like the rest of us you have to banish your self-pity unless you wish to incur her wrath” he said with a playful gleam in his eye

“Oh dear” I said with a chuckle “are we talking like outdid herself from last year or are we going to have another balloon incident?”

“Hopefully not another balloon incident, I don’t think the people of Velaris have ever fully recovered from that one” we both looked at each other and laughed

“I know its hard y/n, but we love you and you know we’ll do our best to take your mind of missing him, at least for a day”

“I know Az, I just wish he was here”

“We all do” he said “I know you do most of all, but you know he would want to spoil you and make a whole day of it, a week of it if he could”

I smiled thinking back to one year he did in fact make my birthday last an entire week. There were celebrations, parties, and so many gifts; unbeknownst to us it was the last birthday we would spend together.

“He absolutely would” I said

We both smiled, enjoying a brief moment of silence remembering all the shenanigans Rhys would create for my birthdays.

“You ready?” Azriel asked, breaking the silence as he extended his arm towards me

 “As I’ll ever be” I said taking his outstretched arm and together we walked downstairs to greet whatever it was Mor had planned.

-----

It was quite the party and Mor had insisted we all dress up for the event. She was wearing her signature red, her dress tonight was a halter style with an open back and a long skirt that flowed out at her hips, it also featured a slit up one side that exposed her leg when she walked.

I was wearing a night court black; the top of my dress was a corset with intricate detailing that resembled the night sky over Velaris. it also had off the shoulder sleeves, and it had a long skirt that trailed slightly behind me as I walked. It had been a gift from Rhys a long time ago and I had only now been brave enough to wear it, the memory of him gifting it to me made me smile rather than cry which is why I had chosen it for tonight.

Amren was in one of her two-piece outfits, a cropped silver top with long sleeves made of a sheer fabric that tightened at her wrists paired with high waisted pants of the same color that were loose and billowing with cuffs of silver around her ankles. Cassian and Azriel had also dressed up, they both wore dark pants with black boots that reached their knees, and each had a black tunic with silver and gold embroidery.

The party was small, just me and our inner circle over a nice dinner at Rita’s. Mor had bought out the space so we could have it all to ourselves. They had arranged for all my favorite foods and desserts to be made. We spent hours talking, drinking, and reminiscing over old times when we were all together.

A few hours, and a few more drinks later, it was time for cake. Which was my favorite part of these parties. This year it was a massive four-layer chocolate cake adorned with candles. We had this ridiculous inside joke to put as many candles as possible on our birthday cakes. As fae we had an eternity of birthdays, so we liked to make the most of them by creating our own chaos. This year they had managed to fit five hundred candles on the cake, at least by my estimate.

Cassian, Azriel, Mor and Amren all began singing a loud and off tune version of happy birthday as they wheeled the cake over to me.

“Make a wish y/n” Mor said clasping her hands together, a beaming smile on her lips.

“Okay, alright” I said closing my eyes tight as I made my wish.

I made the same wish every year, I wished for Rhys to return to me. I wished to see him, hold him, hear his laugh. I wished to spend my life with him. I pushed those feelings through the bond, but I was met with the same hollow feeling, there was nothing but a deep emptiness where our bond once was.

I shut down that thought as I took a deep breath and blew out the candles on the top tier of the cake, the others joined in as we all attempted to blow out the remaining candles on the other layers. We laughed as the last candle went out and served ourselves heaping portions of cake.

-----

It was a little after 3 in the morning when I returned to the townhouse. Mor had an apartment close to Rita’s, so she stayed there most nights, Amren went back to her apartment overlooking the river and Cassian and Azriel stayed at the House of Wind. It wasn’t like I could convince them to abandon their lives to help me piece together mine, even though I knew they would it wouldn’t be fair to them.

It was always so lonely coming back to an empty house full of memories of our lives together. Everywhere I looked there were reminders of him, there were pictures on the walls of our happy times, memories of early morning breakfasts on our kitchen floor and dancing throughout the house.

I lit a fire in our sitting room and made my way to our room to change out of my dress. I carefully hung it in our closet and put on one of his shirts. It was large on me and hung to my mid-thigh, the long sleeves hanging over my hands. I also put on a long pair of wool socks and made my way downstairs.

I laid on the couch in front of the fireplace curling my legs up and before I knew it my exhaustion took over and I fell asleep

-----

I jumped awake at the sound of a loud crash

I was immediately on edge, I rolled off the couch onto the floor crawling across the room I knew there was a knife on the bookshelf, it was for display, but it would do to fend off an intruder.  

I quickly grabbed the knife and stood with my back against the wall listening for the sound of footsteps. Hearing none I quietly turned the corner to find a tall figure standing at the foot of the stairs, their back was facing me which would be an advantage. I slowly stalked closer, holding the knife in a defensive position ready to strike.

Then it hit me.

Rain and Citrus.

I didn’t believe it; I couldn’t believe it.

The knife clattered to the floor as my eyes widened in disbelief. I tried to speak but the words I wanted to stay just stuck in my throat.

The figure turned around slowly his own eyes wide in recognition.

Rhysand.

My knees buckled and I collapsed onto the floor, tears streaming down my face. but he was already moving his arms wrapping around me as we both sank to our knees in the hall.

“shh…shh” he said softly tucking my hair behind my ear as his hand cupped my face. I looked up and finally noticed his face. He was pale, his usual warm brown skin a sickly white, and his eyes. They were the same shade of violet that I remembered but somehow there was a darkness to them. Like this Rhys was different than the one that left fifty years ago, and I wondered what happened in that place.

“Is it really you?” I whispered, worried that if I spoke to loud then reality would set back in, and he would be gone.

“it’s me darling” he said softly, his voice shaking as he used his thumb and forefinger to lift my chin and his eyes meet mine. I brought my hands to cup the sides of his face, needing to feel his skin on mine to know this was real.

We sat there a moment, simply staring into each other’s eyes, like we both couldn’t believe that this was real that we had found our way back to each other. I breathed him in, his scent filling my lungs and I pulled him into a kiss.

It was desperate, like we were communicating fifty years of affection within this one kiss. it was a clash of teeth and tongues, our hands roaming over each other’s bodies simply needing some kind of connection. His hand roamed up to my bare thigh and he froze, pulling away from the kiss.

“Rhys?” I asked gently “are you alright?”

He shook his head, withdrawing his touch, breathing heavily as he stared at the ground.

“I-I want you so badly, but-” he said his eyes rimmed with tears

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me my love, you know that” I said gently stroking his hair “Let’s just go upstairs, you can bathe a-and we can talk, or we can just sleep” I stood extending my hand to him, He nodded taking my hand as we made our way upstairs.

-----

We made our way to our bathroom; I thought that a warm bath might make him feel more like himself, so I led him to the bathroom where I started the water, throwing in his favorite soaps and salves and looked behind me to where he was standing, his hands gripped the counter so tightly that his knuckles were white as he looked at himself in the mirror.

I made my way over to him and wrapped my arms around his torso pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Are you alright?” I said softly his eyes meeting mine in the mirror.

“I don’t want you to see me like this” he said softly, turning his head to look at me over his shoulder

“O-okay” I said quietly, attempting to hide the hurt in my voice “I’ll just be in the other room if you need me”

He nodded, pressing a kiss to my forehead as I made my way to the door, I left it open a crack and I watched in the mirror as he slowly undressed, his back facing the mirror and suddenly I knew why he didn’t want me in the room.

He has a series of deep red scratches down his back. Like fingernails.

What happened to him in that place?

I closed my eyes making my way to our bed as I waited for him to finish, a series of thoughts flashing through my head.

I was pulled from my thoughts by the door opening, as Rhysand made his way over to the bed grabbing a pillow from his side and making his way to the couch in the corner of the room.

“You’re not sleeping with me?” I asked unable to help the shakiness of my voice

“I don’t want to hurt you” he said

“You would never hurt me Rhys” I said,

"You don't know that" he replied

“What happened to you?” i practically pleaded

He froze

“I just want to help you” I said wiping a stray tear with my sleeve

“If I told you, you would never forgive me” he said his voice cracking

“You know that there is nothing you could say that would make a difference to me, I love you. you are my mate, my husband, my equal.”

“I betrayed you” he said

“You needed to survive, to find your way back to me and whatever you did, whatever happened to you wasn’t your fault” I said

And so, with a deep shuddering breath he told me everything. He detailed how he was forced to pleasure Amarantha how he was forced to help her torture people, and he told me the truth that he took their pain and made their deaths as painless as possible. Finally, he told me about Feyre, the brave human girl who had marched into her lair and saved him, saved us all.

When he was finished, we found ourselves on the bed, his back against the headboard with my head in his lap as I detailed what happened here in the time he had been away.

I could see the early light of the sun peeking through the window, and I couldn’t help but yawn, I closed my eyes but felt Rhys tuck himself behind me, his arm protectively wrapped around my middle as he pulled me into him

“You know the distance, what I had to do, none of it changed my feelings for you. and I crawled my way back here, back home, back to you”

“I know” I whispered

We drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms. Now we had nothing but time, and the rest of the world could wait until tomorrow.

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Thanks for Reading!

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#acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #rhysand #rhysand x reader #feyre archeron #cassian #azriel acotar #amren #mor acotar #bookish-whore

[bi-bard]

Love With Every Stranger, the Stranger the Better - Tenth Doctor Imagine [Doctor Who]

Title: Love With Every Stranger, the Stranger the Better

Pairing: Tenth Doctor X Reader

Based On: Someone New

Word Count: 1,216 words

Warning(s): jealousy

Summary: (Y/n) has grown used to watching people flirt with the Doctor while the pair traveled. However, after their relationship takes a sharp turn, (Y/n) finds their reactions taking a very similar sharp turn.

Author's Note: Is this consistent with the lyrics? Probably not. Do I still think it's cute? Yup.

HOZIER [2014] WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

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I never truly blamed the Doctor for how some people acted around him.

It wasn't his fault that the regeneration process seemed to decide that he deserved to look almost perfect.

That didn't make it sting less when I watched people flirting with him.

Everyone had a different method, but after traveling with the Doctor for so long, I could sort many into three main categories.

The first group was made up of people that wanted to impress him. It was almost instinctual that they realized that he was something very different. The Doctor seemed to accidentally cause people to trip over themselves in the hopes of catching his eye. He was a curious person. The best to get his attention was to show him something that he had never seen before.

The second group was the ones that were just straightforward with what they wanted. They would make no effort to hide wondering eyes and flirtatious comments. There would be small touches on the arm or the side. Like I was invisible and wasn't watching the entire interaction.

The third group was the group that I fell into. They would be almost oblivious. Their feelings would be written on their faces. Nervous smiles and awkward shared moments.

In my case, that was usually paired with a sense of obliviousness.

I went on for months never noticing that my nervous smiles were returned. That those small moments that I thought were completely one-sided were quite the opposite.

To be fair, the Doctor had been just as oblivious as me. I don't think either one of us accepted that our feelings were mutual until after we kissed.

He usually was pretty oblivious to how people acted around him. He was usually more focused on whatever problem needed to be solved or whatever person needed to be saved. He was a good person. Just a bit blind.

When I first traveled with him, I kind of mimicked him. I didn't pay attention to the people that would try to catch his eye.

It was easy enough. Our trips often leave us with a lot to focus on. And it's not like we ever stayed in one place longer than we absolutely had to.

I would sometimes chuckle at the people that were so obvious about their flirting just for the Doctor to completely miss it. Not because I thought it was funny to watch people miss their shots. Just because it was funny seeing the Doctor's shocked face when they got tired of getting nothing for their effort.

I thought that I would always feel that way. That I would never care. Even after we got together, I thought it would all stay the same.

But I was proven wrong quite quickly.

The first time that it happened, I wasn't quite sure how I felt.

I was watching someone focus all of their attention on the Doctor. I was being completely ignored, which I wouldn't really mind if the other person wasn't constantly giggling and touching the Doctor's arm every time they interacted.

My stomach twisted a bit. I felt uneasy. I took a deep breath. I assumed it had been all of the chaos that was inevitably going to happen.

And then, it happened a second time.

This time, it had a second symptom. Anger.

I almost shocked myself.

I couldn't understand why I was angry.

I knew very well that the Doctor respected me enough to not waste my time. If he wanted to be with someone else, then I would like to believe he would have the heart to tell me.

I didn't understand why I would be angry at the other person. The Doctor wasn't paying them any mind. It's not like they were making any progress.

Maybe it was because he didn't do anything to stop them?

I wasn't sure.

The feeling kept popping up. Over and over. It felt like it was becoming a normal part of our trips. And I hated it.

I don't know when the Doctor noticed it.

I thought I had caught his eyebrows furrowing at me a few times, but I assumed it was nothing. He could've just as easily been thinking about anything else.

"You alright," he asked one day.

We had been heading out after another trip. That sickening feeling in my stomach wouldn't go away. It was just there like a rock.

I hummed, snapping out of my thoughts. I had been silently yelling at myself to pull my act together.

"You seem a bit... distracted is all," he shrugged, leaning against the console. "You alright?"

"Oh, yeah," I nodded and forced a smile. He raised an eyebrow at me. I continued smiling for a moment before I felt like his eyes were burning a hole in my head. "Stop that!"

"Stop what?"

"Staring at me like you can read my thoughts."

"I can tell when you're upset," he explained. "We've been traveling for a while. We're... involved. I can tell."

He always said involved. Apparently, the word dating didn't sound right to him.

"What's going on?"

I sighed as plopped down onto one of the benches. "It's nothing. It's just me being ridiculous."

"Obviously not if you're upset about it."

I rolled my eyes.

He walked to stand in front of me. "Talk to me."

"I... I got a bit jealous is all," I admitted. I felt pathetic. "Today... and during a few other trips."

"Why?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I... I can't help it. I watch people try to shoot their shot and I just get this gross feeling in my gut. I know that you're just interested in every new thing that you can learn. You are always like that. You don't even seem aware of the flirting most of the time, but I can't shake it. And it makes me mad at myself for thinking like that."

The Doctor nodded. He seemed to be waiting to see if there was anything else that I needed to say.

There was one thing. "And I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he replied.

I closed my eyes and shook my head.

"And you have nothing to be jealous of," the Doctor took a knee in front of me, grabbing my hands. I looked at him again. "I only want to be with you. I love you."

"And logically, I know that," I explained. "I trust you. I don't believe that you would do anything like that. I just... I can't help it."

He nodded.

"I... I don't think there's anything I can do other than get over it," I shrugged. "I really shouldn't have made you worry about it at all."

"I'm glad you told me," he replied. He leaned down to press a kiss to my hand. "And now that I know, I'll do better. I'll be more observant."

"You're already very observant."

"Well... I'll be more observant about the right things," he said. I chuckled at him. "I love you, (Y/n)."

"I love you too," I mumbled. He smiled at me before leaning up to kiss my forehead.

I closed my eyes, relaxing into the moment.

For the millionth time, I was reminded that I would happily spend every last moment I had right here... with him.

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[chronic-ghost]

Chapter 7 of Recovery Road

chapter rating: E (18+)

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: 11046

chapter summary: this is how the spiral ends.

chapter warnings/tags: physical abuse, depictions of overdose, dark themes, angst – lots and lots of angst, crying, hospitals

a/n: the song accompanying this fic is Foreigners God by Hozier. I had to physically restrain myself from using the lyrics as title because everything about that song fits so perfectly with this chapter. (title from x)

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Wondering who I copy

Mustering some tender charm

She feels no control of her body

She feels no safety in my arms

I've no language left to say it

But all I do is quake to her

Breaking if I try convey it

The broken love I make to her

- Foreigner’s God, Hozier

The desert does storms differently. 

Los Angeles, while hardly considered a desert, is occasionally touched by the fringes of a powerful storm. Bloated, purple clouds. Lightning so full of heat that is almost palpable as it sparks across the sky. Rain in fat globs that splatter and spray. Grumbles of thunder so deep and loud, they’re almost animalistic. Sometimes it rains like the world is in mourning, in deep-seated grief. It’s a comfort, though, in the same way sad movies are cathartic – an expression of pain in a way that is so often hard to conceptualize. There’s a relief in it too.

Outside the hotel window, thunder growls, curling low like a jungle cat, as lightning cracks, warding off the onset darkness for just a moment. It’s been raining for hours, water flooding potholes on the streets below, gushing from drain pipes. This early in the morning, the few cars out that swim through the gloom have their lights on bright, trying hopelessly to cut back the encroaching deluge. People are nothing more than wet shadows. 

The weather is throwing a fucking fit.

Thunder batters against the hotel windows again, groaning so loud he almost misses it. Almost misses that soft, quiet, little “fuck” that escapes your mouth. But he’s too close, too deep inside you, nose to nose, his elbows in the mattress by your head – he catches every movement your face makes. Every twitch of your lips, every stretch of your jaw. Every sigh. Every wail. 

The pitch black room, save for the occasional flash of lightning, smells like sex. And it should. You’ve been at it for hours. 

The skin on his back smarts where your nails dig into him, but that doesn’t get him to speed up or change his pace. Steady, slow, making you feel every inch that he stuffs up inside you. He kisses the curve of your sweaty neck as his hips roll as deep as the thunder outside.

“Oh, oh my god – Dieter–,”

He nuzzles your neck, nose tickling the back of your ear, sweat rolling from the back of his neck, over his shoulder, and onto your chest.

“Take it, baby, just take it. Let me have all of you,” he murmurs into your ear. Gently, he reaches under the covers at his back and pulls your leg up to his hip, maintaining that slow, tortuous pace. You breathe in on a high whine, the sound knotting his gut with pleasure. You shove your head back into the pillow, your face flushed, eyes wet as if trying to escape from feelings he inspires in you. You bite your lip and moan.

He’s been dragging it out too long. The both of you are on a fine, miniscule edge, neither wanting it to end, neither wanting to be separated from the other, but the tension is too profound, too great to hold onto much longer. He knows his knees won’t work for hours after this. His hips are going to be totally shot. He doesn’t fucking care.

You breathe in sharply and your cunt contracts around him once and he thinks he blacks out for a second, hips stuttering to a halt. That almost-painful flare of heat he felt must be visible on his face because you gasp, somewhere between a hiccup and a sob. There are tears in your eyes, but you don’t ask for it. You take it just like he wants.

“Sorry, baby, sorry–,” you whisper, your hand sliding to his cheek, then his mouth, your thumb against his lips. But he shakes his head, eyes shut against the overwhelming sense of submission, sliding back into his agonizing pace, and he presses his lips to the pad of your finger, lets your hand ease up into his hair. 

“Don’t – don’t a-apologize. You just feel so fucking g-good.” 

He says this but wants to say other things. He speaks to distract himself from the fact that his denied orgasm has sharp shocks sparking up his spine. 

He clumsily kisses your cheek. 

“Thank you, b-baby, thank you for letting me do this. For letting me fill you up. For taking me, as I a-am,” he stutters, his tongue too thick for his mouth. He really should just shut up and come, but when he opens his eyes, the look you give him – your eyes black and round from the Ecstasy – it pulls on the tendons at the back of his chest. Like the strings of a guitar – strum his heart and he’ll sing. 

He had begged you to let him fuck you slow, like he did in New Orleans. They only had a few hours before the comedown hit and he wanted to spend those hours savoring you. Licking his fingers of your sweetness, carving away old memories to make room for the ones of you naked and trembling, steaming images of you to the inside of his brain with a sweating iron. With a stripped-bare willpower, he holds himself back because he thinks the longer you’re beneath him, the more of you he can take. 

But this last one, this one he can feel pulsate in the cup of his skull, it’s too big. It’s too much to suppress any longer. He grits his teeth, and tries not to languish in the warmth of your thighs. 

“Are you close?” 

You nod, a single tear breaking loose and running from the corner of your eye to the sheets below you. “Y-yeah. I’m so close, Dee.” 

He adjusts on his already shaking knees, pulling back and giving enough space between your bodies so he can reach down to touch you at the apex of your legs, but you frantically shake your head, grabbing his wrist. You shake your head harder.

“No, n-not like that.” You put his hand back by your head, then pull him towards you with your legs, forcing him onto his elbows again. You dig your heel into his low back. “L-like this. Just a bit faster, honey.”

Feeling swells so much and so fast in his chest as he watches you encourage him, tell him exactly what you want, and what you want is him – he feels like he can’t inhale.

There are things he wants to say to you, but they’re clogged up somewhere between his gut and his tongue. He nods instead, planting one hand flat against the mattress, his head tucking into the curve of your neck. He goes faster, just a bit, like you asked. Under the patter of rain, the bed squeaks, metal screws and cheap wood rocking together. The wet clutch of your cunt is making him dizzy.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna– I’m gonna –,” 

He angles his hips like he knows you need, his pelvis against your clit, and you cry out, hands latching around the back of his neck, knees up by his shoulders. You wail and it breaks him wide open. He comes, deep inside you, gooey, pearly cum mixing with your release, your cunt so tight, he feels it all ooze back down his cock. He shudders at the sensation, his cock twitching almost painfully. His brain feels like the last bit of film flapping in the gears of a projector – thin, empty, overused. White noise.

Beneath him, he feels you sobbing, gasping against his throat. He uses his shaking arms to pull back, just so he can look at you, so he can kiss back your tears. That was intense and he wants you to know he’s here for you. 

“Baby, you’re crying.” 

Your gentle thumbs catch wet salt on his cheeks and he blinks, suddenly aware of the cold streaks his tears left behind. He shakes as he wipes his own face. 

“Fuck.” The word out of his mouth is watery, thick, and you smile up at him, your own grin wet and overjoyed. “I didn’t even realize . . .” You finally laugh and he can’t resist kissing you. Your tears mix with his as you press your cheek to his. 

This is the thing inside of him being quiet, being eased, coaxed down and put to rest. The want for you, it’s indescribable. He has you but he doesn’t. It’s not enough. The only time this black mass of desire inside him releases its pull is when he’s coming inside you. When his split soul in your body reunites momentarily with his. When he makes you his. Over and over and over again.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Outside, lightning flashes and you glow beneath him for just a second. This body is familiar because it’s his.

You make me happy, he thinks, so happy.

It has nothing to do with the drugs coursing through his blood, that sits in his cum drying on your thighs, on the mattress. 

It’s been two weeks since the last round of press junkets and tours, one week before the Oscars. Chloe, of course, did not come on the rest of the trip, electing to go home before returning to Europe to help her father. At this point, he couldn’t care less. It became easier and easier to stop answering her texts, and ignore her calls. He was already starting his new life with you. After a party in SoCal two nights ago, when he was up to his eyeballs in booze and your tits, he got half-hard thinking about making the phone call to his lawyer to draft up divorce papers. Ecstasy is so much better when you have someone to do it with you.

He wonders if she could see the lie in his eyes when he told her he’d give her an answer when she came back. If the divorce papers will come as a surprise. 

In a ring of thunder, he backs out of you, dragging the covers with him, and you shiver, exposed, skin damp in his sweat and your own. Eyes hazy, lips bitten, marks of him everywhere on your skin, you look raw, fucked out. He kisses your collarbone before easing out of the bed to take off the condom. 

You’re already half asleep when he comes back to bed. 

Sleep is oozing around his bones, making his muscles limp and pliable. He’s seconds away from passing out. He knows you both need to eat, but he can’t lift his eyelids long enough to find his phone. He crawls in bed behind you, the exhaustion a weight more demanding than gravity. He came inside you and all his energy left him. You hum as you curl up next to him. He doesn’t even make it under the blanket. 

You say something to him, something that his body reacts to, but his brain doesn’t fully comprehend. Noise, soft, gentle, comforting noise. He wants to hear it, whatever it is you’re saying, but he can feel parts of his mind shutting off, going dark. 

Instead, he turns your limp body onto your side, his own molding around you, a warmth he never before experienced expanding from his chest to the rest of his body. His fingers curve around your chest and he thinks he can feel your heartbeat beneath his fingers. It might be his instead. 

He noses your hair.

“Never leave me.”

Sleep is a thing he is, not a thing he does. He drifts, untethered in blackness, for hours, maybe days, maybe years. He dreams and remembers and his heartbeat settles somewhere behind his stomach.

When Dieter wakes up, it’s still raining, but the bedside light is on, casting a warm glow over the clothes on the floor, the crushed up powder on the table, the tablets of E by the couch. His come down is making him itchy – he’d love a joint – but he’s more unsettled by his sudden loneliness. Your side of the bed is empty, still warm, and he hears the shower running, sees light from under the door. You’re close by. He settles. Easily, slowly, mindfully of his fucked up hips, he rolls onto his back, staring up at the dark ceiling, his thumbnail carving out a line between his eyes.

He wants it to be months from now.

He wants the divorce papers signed. He wants you in his home, all your things there. He wants to trip over your shoes, move your purse from the countertops, smell your shampoo in his shower. He wants his time to become your time, wants to carve out hours of the day just to be with you and no one else. He can feel himself finding excuses to get away from his next gig, the next tour, from the next press circuit, canceling plans for parties and dinners, from everything that doesn’t have you in it. Nothing is as important as you are because nothing makes him feel like you do. 

He needs you to come back to bed – he misses you. Thunder rumbles and he follows the noise out the window, his gaze briefly catching on the bedside table where you left your things. He spots the pill bottle and his skin hums. Flexeril. He wants to be under a little bit longer. He pops the cap off, rattles two pills into his hand, and throws it back, his throat pliant and obedient.

Sleep comes for him again. He hallucinates you, either dreaming or awake. A fix – love – whatever. They’re all the same to him.

It’s still raining when he lifts his head, sleep sloughing off him like relaxing overworked muscle, but it’s brighter out, the barrage of rain lessened. He has no idea how much time has passed and looking at the clock won’t help. He hasn’t kept track of time in days. Not since Chloe went away.

He’s suddenly aware of the warmth across his back. Your dainty fingers hang over his shoulder as if you tried to hug him and collapsed in place. Grinning, he rolls over, careful not to wake you, and sneaks his arm under your pillow, his other hand pulling you back against him. You smell like lavender and smoke and, wrapped up in his green t-shirt, a bit like him. He runs his nose the length of your neck to your ear – all mine – and lays down, tries to go back to sleep . . . only to realize what woke him up in the first place.

Buzzing. 

Blue light from the bedside table.

Blinking through the headache the sound is giving him, Dieter leaves you and the perfect glow the outside light gives your skin. Sitting up, he blinks several more times at the name at the top of the screen. 

Chloe.

And he’s missed four other calls from her, about five minutes apart each. She’s never done that before. 

Swallowing and easing his feet to the ground at the edge of the bed, he answers her call.

“Hello?”

“Dieter.” Her voice is wet, water-logged by a salty brine. She’s been crying. He glances over his shoulder at you. Fuck, does she know where he’s been? You stir in your sleep, but don’t wake up. Over the phone, Chloe inhales, hiccuping, and then an explosion of words: “Dieter, something’s happened– I wanted to tell you in person but – and I know you said you’d think about it but–but, Dieter, it’s happened and –,”

His head this fogged from his hangover, from the last vestiges of E and the muscle relaxant still crawling around in his veins, he can’t parse out her words, every vowel and consonant flowing and butting up into the next. He can’t tell if she’s happy or upset. 

“–and it’s so much sooner than either of us expected but–,” 

“Chloe. Chloe,” he soothes, trying to be quiet and firm at the same time. You move again behind him and he looks at you just as you open your eyes. You smile at him and his heart skips. He turns around, trying to shield you from her. “Slow down. I can’t understand you. What’s going on?”

 Silence.

Rain lashes the windows behind him. Thunder rocks the foundations of the building. Cars careen through the wet streets below. Your small hand presses against the ridges of his spine. 

“Dieter, I’m pregnant.” 

Rain lashes the windows behind him. Thunder rocks the foundations of the building. Cars careen through the wet streets below.

Your hand pulls away from him. 

“What?”

“I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a baby.” Her voice is tinny through the speaker. She sounds far away. Everything sounds far away. “You’re going to be a father. Isn’t it what you’ve always wanted?” 

The phone falls from his hands to the floor with a clatter. It lands just right and the screen goes dark, the call ended. 

His fingers feel spongy, rubbery, unreal. His heart beats up against his chest, but he hears it in his ears, like he’s been running for miles on end. 

A baby. 

His baby. 

His lungs suck in air in short, sharp gasps and when he breathes in deep, he’s immediately hit by a wave of nausea. He fights to keep from hurling right onto the floor. 

Go, he has to go – has to – his body is moving, shifting, but his knees give out. Weakly dropping him to the floor against the bed frame. The back of his skull tightens and retightens. With every pulse of his heart beat, he feels it in a different place on his body. His ears. His fingertips. His chest. God, there’s something in there, clawing to get out. It’s choking him. 

“Dieter.” 

His fingers pull at the invisible bonesaw cracking open his chest. “S-s-shut up. I can’t bre-eathe.” 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He can’t be a –

– can’t be his father –

Can’t can’t won’t won’t – not like this – not now –

He doesn’t know how. He doesn’t want it. 

This kid – they’re gonna have his fucked up brain, his fear of living, that oppressive, slimy voice that keeps him pinned to his bed for days on end with all the curtains closed – that weighs him down to the bottom of the fucking ocean – 

He’s ruined them before they ever even had a chance. Because they’ll be his, a part of him. An unlucky splinter embedded deep under a caustic burn. It’s not fair. 

His fingers dig into his hair and wrench. 

“Dieter.” 

There’s a hand on his face. It’s soft and gentle and he hates it. It strokes his tears before he turns away and snarls, clawing his way up the mattress, cornering himself against the headboard. 

Don’t touch me

Your eyes, gazing up at him from where you kneel on the floor, immediately flood with tears. They crack and overflow. They drip off your face.

“So it’s true, then. What she said. It is yours. Your . . .”

Can’t can’t can’t won’t won’t won’t can’t do it

His nails scratch his scalp, hard. There’s liquid under his cuticles. 

“What happens now? What are we going to do?” You beg him, your tiny hands clutching at the sheets around the edge of the mattress. “W-w-we talked about – have you sent her the p-papers – I thought –,”

Maybe that weight in his chest will finally collapse and swallow him whole. Cramping until his very existence is crushed under the gravity of a pole star as it dies. He pulls his knees to his chest, his fingers knotting deeper and deeper into his hair. 

“I’m going back.” The words scald his mouth the instant they leave it. They taste like bile, bile that rots inside of him. “I-I have to . . . I have to be there for . . . B-b-but n-not now – not like this – not when I-I’m still –,” 

There on the table, there’s a chance he can forget about all of this, just take it away a second longer – but he has to go back to – to her – his ba– 

“But you promised.” Your serrated voice snares him and tears his gaze back to you. “Dieter, don’t do this. Please. Let me help you. We can figure out something together. You can’t go back. You don’t love her. There’s nothing –,”

“She’s the mother of my child, Natalie. Of course I have to go back to her.” 

He almost misses the gasp from your lips. Almost. 

That noise. The inhale, the crunch of air against an unwilling lung. The audible sound of understanding. Of clarity. Of the ground finally setting.

You on one side. And him . . . him out of your orbit. 

He sees the flash of your white teeth, the sharpness of bone, before you open your mouth.

“You’d be doing both of them a fucking favor if you never showed up at all.” 

He thinks he goes blind in one eye for a moment from the rage that burns up through his rib cage. All that blackness that was inside of him since the day he was born comes rushing, pouring to the surface.

“What?” he snarls, lunging down and snatching you up by the meat of your arms, his fingers digging into your flesh. His teeth snap near your ear. “What do you want me to do, huh?” 

“Stop, Dieter, you’re hurting me –,”

There’s a loud, angry man living inside of him, that’s lived inside every room he’s ever been in. The things he did subdued the anger, but not the inevitability. There’s a loud, angry man inside of him, and he doesn’t have the courage to pretend anymore that the voices in his head don’t all sound the same.

He crushes you against chest, your nails clawing at his skin, as he hauls you across the room. Dieter shoves you onto the couch, pulsating with fury. You’re crying again as your fingers curl around the ashtray on the table. Your arm winds back and he jerks away the second before you fling it at him with a scream. The ashtray shatters the lamp, electrical sparks flying, clay shattering, and then —

“I hate you!” 

“And I hate myself around you!” He snarls. 

He watches the words collide with your very being, your eyes fluttering as though he had slapped you. 

“We bring out the fucking worst in each other,” he goes on, like toxic drool spilling out of his mouth. “And you fucking know it.” He can’t stop. He doesn’t want to. Your mouth drops, lips trembling, skin going white, as though you drank poison from the cup of his hands. “You want me to abandon this kid for the mistake of just being born? You want it to turn out like you?” 

Tears again and this time he cannot miss the gasp. The hiccup where air goes down wrong. 

It’s all wrong.

“Fuck you, Dieter, GET OUT!” 

“This is my hotel room–,”

“Get the fuck out or I’ll call the fucking cops!” You shriek.

Your shoulder knocks into his chest as you shove past him, snatching up his clothes and pitching them into his face. The bed behind you looks like a war zone, covered in shards of glass and clay and wires. A great machine disemboweled.

“Goddamn it –,”

His belt buckle grazes his cheek. You’re trying to draw blood. Your hair wild and mussed from sex and his abuse, cheeks enflamed, you breathe as though you gasp around a collapsed lung. 

This was always how it was going to end. He’s come to the end of the spiral.

He thinks you and hurricanes share the same sort of powerful, thunderous beauty. The very sight of you glaring at him with such disgust and violence on your face makes his eyes grow hot.

“You are a fucking coward, Dieter Bravo.” You sniff, wiping something from your chin with the back of your hand. “You’re a coward and a fucking liar . . .” You swallow, vitriol wet in your mouth, in the curve of your shoulders, in the unsteady shake of your hands, “and you’re gonna be a fucking shit dad. You have no idea how to love anyone but yourself.”

You’ve done it. Stripped him down to his bare essentials and this is what you’ve found: a copy of a loud, angry man. A copy, blurred and blackened and smudged beyond recognition. And despite his best efforts, the copies would go on until there was nothing left but hot darkness.

Turning away, you take the sweating champagne bottle from the bucket and, stumbling towards the bathroom, you fall forward and lock the door behind you. 

That blank, empty door will haunt his dreams for years to come — he just doesn’t know it yet. 

He’s still shaking when he picks up his phone.

“Are you in Los Angeles? No. No – I’m not . . . remember the old laundromat off 1st? You have to meet me there. Now. Hurry . . . please . . . please.” 

In the blue darkness curling in the back of the room, metallic drums in their square boxes churn, their heating coils humming as excess heat warms the tile, the cracking plaster on the walls. Not a soul insight, but the machines go on, diligent and indifferent. There are the eternal mountains, the infinite sea, and there are these machines, washing out dirt from clothes and towels and bedsheets, and warming the cold and wet and the damp, forever and ever and ever.

He lets out a shaky exhale. Tapping the gray ash into the empty soda cup between his legs, he takes another sip from the cigarette, his left knee bouncing fixed and tight, as he waits in the half-darkness, his back pressed up against the cool window. In front of him, the washing machines grumble, the only light giving them individual edges coming from the glow in the street behind them. He didn’t even bother turning on the overhead fluorescents when he came in.

The cigarette butt between his fingers joins the other three at the bottom of the cup before he picks up the packet and shakes out another one. The metal zipper of his hoodie feels cold against his bare stomach. His knee won’t stop shaking.

To his left, the double glass doors suddenly open, the cool brush of rain overwhelming the heat of the machines for a moment, and a frantic shadow spills through, its head swiveling in a panicked search. 

“Dieter?”

Disbelief. Horror. His chest swells so sharply he thinks he might split open. 

Heels clacking on the linoleum, she comes into the light of the window. Her mouth smeared bright red, blonde hair down and smoothed around her ears, she wears a black raincoat over silk red pants and black heels. She looks beautiful.

Except for the way her mouth twists in terrible anguish.

“Oh, shit.” Heidi says, softly. “Dieter, what happened?”

He works his jaw, his eyes hot and tight, he doesn’t even look up at her when he says, “you look nice. Hope I didn’t interrupt anything important.”

Heidi’s mouth drops open as further bewilderment sinks in. She slowly lowers herself into the seat next to him. The plastic squeaks from the force. 

“Honey, do you know what day it is?” 

He shrugs, shakes his head.

“Everyone’s been trying to find you for days. The studio’s furious but . . .” she inhales and he knows the sound. It’s the sound doctors make when they tell parents their child has a terminal illness, when parents tell their children they had to put down the family dog, when his father told him he wasn’t welcome in the house any more. “I was on my way to the Oscars. It’s Oscars night, Dieter, and Recovery Road was nominated for best picture.” 

The smoke in his mouth sucks out every droplet of moisture. He sees the room spin for a second. “Congratulations. I mean that. You deserve it.” 

She inhales again, but it comes through perforated and broken. “Honey, you were nominated. Best Actor. That’s why we were trying to find you.” 

He sniffs and drops the still burning cigarette into the cup, his palms rubbing frantically on his thighs, over his jeans, the smoke yanking his guts up into his mouth. He feels the acid burn his tongue.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, “I’m sorry I didn’t answer my phone. I’m sorry you didn’t know where to find me. But . . . fuck, Heidi,” his voice cracks, “it’s gotten so out of control and I don’t know if I can fix it . . . or if I should.”

It’s her soft hand on his back that does it. Like she touched a pressure point that released the festering knot he had become and every sensation within him is pushed to an eleven, everything pushed to the brink, to the very line of sanity, and he breaks. 

He leans forward and cries. 

The single hand becomes two, then an entire body of warmth as she pulls him into her chest, not worried if he smudges her makeup or wrinkles her blouse. It streams from him, a dam unsealed and imploding under its own weight, and he cries, the wails high and loud and he could scream like this. He sinks to his knees and she goes with him until they’re on the floor, the seat of the chair digging into her back and his arms wrapped around her waist.

“I fucked up, Heidi. I fucked up so bad.” His fingers twist into her coat. “I’m so sorry, s-so, so so-rry . . .”

I fucked up

I fucked up

I am fucked up

I fucked up

I’m so tired of fucking up

She lets him cry out this thing that’s been choking him, grips him tight, holds him down, in the murky darkness of that laundromat, the machines churning and churning and churning in the quiet. He cries longer than he has in recent memory. Maybe in his whole life. Nothing has ever hurt like this because this is the culmination of every other hurt, every other wound. A grief compounded he never had time to mourn. 

He cries until it’s all out, until there’s static in his head and his eyes ache and his limbs are heavy. Until, despite the pain, his mouth wet and gummy, he can breathe around the weight. 

She waits for the flood to slow, for his breathing to ease, his skin still fire hot. She rubs the back of his neck and he shudders against her chest.

“Dieter.” His own name sounds alien to him. “Honey. Talk to me.”

She hasn’t called him that in half a decade. She uses her own sleeve to dry his cheeks and he turns away, mortified he’d ruin her pretty shirt. Heidi eases him back, resting against the chair. Her hand still holding the back of his neck, he finally looks her in the eyes. He can feel his breastbone bend under the weight of his failure.

But he tells her.

Mouth sticky and eyes dripping, he tells her everything – from the moment he knew you were taking drugs on set, to you showing up dripping and half-naked at his door, to the house in Albuquerque, the unsteady acceptance and balance you somehow agreed to – despite how you both felt, what you both wanted to explore – how heartbroken he was when you slept with someone else, how heartbroken he was when it became clear that Chloe couldn’t wouldn’t understand him because the love she felt for him was never enough to fill in the ache inside of him. 

The few moments of unparalleled joy he experienced with you in that cottage in the crescent city. 

Joy, fueled and fed and stimulated by drugs. 

That was the hardest to admit. That hurt the most.

His hands shook, either from the comedown or the nerves or both. Not a single detail was omitted, a memory misplaced. If he didn’t discuss certain blocks of time, then they were never in his memory to begin with. He wanted it purged from his system, like flushing an infection with saline water. If he didn’t bare his soul now, he never would, would never have another chance to be this honest with her or himself about his many vices, his many addictions. How he thought he loved you so much his heart might burst. How he can’t tell if that love comes from inside him or the strings he uses to stitch himself back together. 

What he had done to you in that hotel room. How he treated someone he loves with his whole heart. 

“And Chloe, she’s – fuck–,” he wipes at his eyes with his sleeve against his palm, “she called me this morning and told me she’s pregnant.” 

Heidi audibly swallows. Swallows down her disgust and horror. She knows what this means to him. Her silence reminds him exactly how fucked he is, how irrevocably changed his life is, and ice-cold, black-dread terror rockets up his spine, squeezing his heart. His stomach claws at itself, empty of anything to destroy. He wants to peel the skin off his fingers.

She wraps her hand around his forearm, pulling his hand into her lap. 

“Was that something . . . had you talked about . . .” she stops and starts, plucking at the threads of what she is trying to ask. “Were you trying?”

He shakes his head, eyes itchy from the tears. He paws at his face with his sleeve, huffing. When he speaks, he sounds like he has a cold. “Last time I saw her was at the start of the press tour. She came back, asking if we could fix things, and at that point, Natalie and I had already . . .” he wraps his arms over his chest, willing it all back inside of him. “Chloe asked if I wanted to have a baby with her and that was it. I think any desire to remain her husband just evaporated that day, whether I knew it at the time or not.”

“Wait, I thought you said you were going back? Back to Chloe? If that’s not what you want, then why . . .” 

He picks up a piece of that famous Dieter indignance and holds it in his fist. 

“I’m not divorcing the woman while she’s pregnant with my child. Besides, if she thinks I can help, or if she needs me . . .” he inhales, unsteady and weak, “if she thinks me being around the kid will make things better and not worse, then . . .” The laundromat goes blurry, the truth of it cracking, splitting, chunks carving up his throat. He exhales and the tears roll down his cheeks. “Then I’m going to do it. I-I-I just don’t want the baby . . . to-to e-end up . . . like . . . me.” 

“Oh, Dieter.” 

Heidi slides around his back, her head against his shoulder, arms tugging his inward, as if she could take away his sadness, his pain, his shame. They both tremble as sobs wrack his body. 

“You wouldn’t make things worse,” she murmurs to his shoulder blades, to the thin sweatshirt damp with sweat. “You wouldn’t, Dee, I promise.” 

“But it’s there, it’s in me, Heidi. This capacity to hurt everyone I love.”

“Honey, they wouldn’t love you if you couldn’t hurt them.” 

“A baby isn’t going to love me,” he says, softly, to her knuckles around his stomach. “It needs care, support, someone who’s around all the time. And I don’t even know what fucking day it is.” 

“But you won’t always be like this.” Hedi squeezes him gently. “I saw the healthy Dieter, the focused one. The one who loves the movies, who loves being an actor. You can be that person.” 

“Yeah and all the while wanting to fuck someone who wasn’t my wife.” He tugs on his hair and feels a few strands come loose. Gray, by the light behind him. Great. 

“You’re never going to be perfect, Dieter. No one is. Therapy and rehab is not meant to make you perfect, it’s meant to make you healthy.”

She’s not seeing it — why can’t she understand that he’s permanently fucked? 

He slides out of her arms, irritated, and curls up by the window, his long legs stretched out in front of him. 

“I was in rehab for two years and in an instant it crumbled. Everything they tried to teach me.” He rubs his palm in the divet of his nose between his eyes. ��It doesn’t work. Not on me.”

“Then why’d you do it, Dieter?” Heidi asks as she stands, her hands on her hip. “Why do you keep going back if you think it’s pointless?”

“Because I want it to work!” He snaps up at her. “I don’t want to be like this forever. I went for Chloe, for you, for Mark, for everyone who–,”

“But not yourself.” She cuts him off and he feels the impact in his chest. With a sigh, she sits down next to him and drops her head against the wall. Heidi is quiet, observing the hunched washing machines, the spinning of the dryers, and a faint smile breaks across her face. “Do you remember that time we met that really cute guy here, what, fifteen years ago? Dark hair, blue eyes, hands the size of plates.” He nods. “And he was really into cycling, remember? So you and I would go down to that tiny gym twenty minutes from our apartment and join that fucking spin class at 6AM because you were determined to get his number . . . and then once you had it, after months of that goddamn class, you–,”

“I never called him.”

“You never called him, that’s right.” Heidi says as she laughs, Dieter chuckling with her. She watches as his fingers curl into his own hair.

“So, what, you’re saying I have problems with follow through?” 

“I’m saying you are committed to whatever you want to do, if you want to do it.” She wraps her hand around his bicep and leans into his shoulder. They’re quiet, contemplating. “I remember thinking I’d die young, when I was in high school. And because of that, I was as reckless as I wanted to be. But then I met Lucy and as clichéd it is to say this, everything changed. Being with her, I was the most clear-headed I’d ever been in my life and I knew exactly what I wanted.” She glances up at him as the rain picks up again. Flat droplets splatter against the window near his head. “How do you want your life to make you feel? Do you know what you want from life, Dieter?”

Fame. Acclaim. Adoration. These things go off in his head as if they were a Pavlovian response to this kind of question, but then they fade, grow weak without sentiment. 

Honestly?

At his core, his dark, deep secret is this: he wants to feel the way the drugs make him feel. Like he’s the happiest he’s ever been, or at peace with the universe, or the star of every room. 

Like he’s loved. The drugs make him feel like he is loved and whole and that’s what he wants. 

And there’s only one person on earth he’s ever felt that way with. 

“Do you love her, Dieter?” The question is delayed, muffled against his shoulder. 

He sighs. “Between you and me and these four fucking walls, no, I don’t. Maybe I did once, but what I feel for Chloe isn’t going to change or improve. I feel something for her, but it’s not the right kind of something to–,”

“I mean, Natalie, Dieter. Natalie.” Heidi lifts her head, her gaze serious, rimmed with worry. “Do you love Natalie?” 

“Yes.” 

He doesn’t question it, doesn’t add addendums to it, conditions around whether or not he loves her only when he’s high, or not high. There is something there, something deep. Something that scared him at first, but he’s seen you now. He knows that if he reached out his hand, you’d take it. Because whatever is in your soul, it recognizes itself in his. A split soul, into two bodies. 

Racing to the edge of calamity. 

But then Heidi sits up, takes him by the shoulders and asks a question he’d never once considered, about anyone. 

“Do you see a future with her?”

“I . . .”

No. 

He tries to swallow around the knot in his throat.

No, because one of you is going to burn out too fast. One of you isn’t going to survive, not the way it’s going. Did Heidi mean marriage, kids, a fucking lawn with a picket fence? He’s not made for that kind of future either but that is okay because he was never going to make it there anyway. 

I always thought I’d die young. 

Something fundamentally shifts in his brain, as though an old reality suddenly winked from existence.

He thinks about that blank door you locked yourself behind. He thinks of your tears and how he broke you. He loves you, he knows it, but now he sees outside himself. He thinks of the carousel and his mother and the promises she made to him. 

“I want her in my life,” he tells Chloe with certainty. “I can’t picture my life without her, even if I don’t know what that’s going to look like. Whatever we are, whatever happens with the baby or Chloe, I know now I can’t live without her. Without Natalie.”

The dusting of worry fades from her face and a crease appears between her eyes. The one that comes out when a scene won’t quite come together, or there’s a line of dialogue that needs reworking. When something is just a bit outside her understanding and she hasn’t quite settled on an answer. 

“I’ve never seen you make that face before.”

“What face?”

“I . . . I don’t know. You just look different, when you talk about her.” 

“I love her. I mean it.”

She turns away, some personal revelation coming too late. Her eyes are like flints, flecks of hard green stone, when she looks back at him.

“Enough to leave her?” Heidi implores of him. “Because what you’re asking, it’s cruel, to do that to someone. You get that, right?”

He bites the skin under his lip. “Yeah. I see that now. Or maybe I always have and I just didn’t want to admit it.” He’s cried enough for a lifetime, but his throat pinches and the backs of his eyes grow hot. “I just can’t stand the thought of us never speaking again. If something ever happened to her . . .”

“If you really want to stay with Chloe and raise this baby, then you might have to make that choice. Or she might make it for you, to keep you out of her life. Either way, you have to accept that.” He nods, a few drops sprinkling off his eyelashes. Heidi squeezes his shoulder and goes on, “but for right now, we’re going to start with rehab. Get you clean. You’re going to have to tell Chloe about the drugs, but as for the affair . . .”

“Do you think I should?”

Heidi’s lively green eyes dull, the stem of a flower as it wilts. “Honestly, Dieter, I have no idea.” 

Before he can read what else may be written on her face, she stands, pulling him up with her. She eyes him with a teasing contempt as he zips up his hoodie. 

“You really do look like fucking shit.”

“Yeah, thanks, I feel it.” 

She takes his hand and holds it to her chest. “One step at a time, Dieter. Step one, we’re going to get you some food so you sober up. Then we go get your stuff.”

His stomach twists at the thought of seeing you when he has no idea what to say — apologies aren’t enough. “But–,”

“One thing at a time.” She takes out her umbrella as they stand at the precipice between the laundromat and the wet street. Her look is one of hope, a small thing, of uncertainty and promise. “One thing at a time.” 

The rising of the hotel elevator syncs with the steady climb of his anxiety. His head hurts, even in the low lighting, and there’s some small part of him that’s looking forward to that white bed in any empty room. Folded up into the corner of the opulent elevator, eyes dark-rimmed, hair long and unkempt, looking every bit the addict he is, he swallows as the numbers in gold across the top of the double doors ding with every floor. His eyes fall to the watch at Heidi’s wrist. She stands in the middle of the elevator, her head held high, a slight frown on the crease of her forehead. He wonders what she’s thinking about but he isn’t sure he wants to know with certainty. It’s six thirty. They’ll all be seated now. 

“Thank you.” He murmurs to her wrist. 

Heidi glances at him, taking in the dark circles beneath his eyes, his waxy skin. He had been so hurt by her apparent disinterest after she left the film’s production that when he called, part of him was sure that she wasn’t even going to answer. One by one his support network had been cut away, trimmed down until he was dangling by a thread. And yet, she came, without hesitation, on possibly the most important night of her life. If there is anything to be ashamed about, he figures, it’s that he ever doubted her. He should have called sooner. 

“Thank you, Heidi, for everything.” 

Her expression softens and she breathes slowly. She actually graces him with a smile. “Don’t thank me yet. We’ve got a long road ahead of us.”

We.

When he thought he was all alone. 

His eyes sting as the elevator stops on the twenty-second floor, dinging cheerily when the doors open to the top, most secluded floor. It’s quiet, all five black doors in the hallway shut and locked. Heidi steps out with purpose and he drags himself after her, hands digging into his wet pockets to try and find his key, if he even managed to bring it.

And then he freezes.

Something’s not right. A sense. A chill in the air. An uneasy twinge in the stomach just before freefall. 

Heidi stops, looks over her shoulder. “Dieter, what’s–,”

Behind the door to his room comes a loud thump. A scrambling. And then –

“Oliver?” 

Those ice blue eyes snap up as the drug dealer stumbles through the doorway. Eyes bloodshot, skin gray, his immaculate suit is gone, replaced by black jeans and a loose shirt. His hands are trembling. 

“Ah, fuck, Dieter.”

The blackness of his irises take up the entirety of his pupils. He’s high, out of his mind . . . and he’s terrified. Trembling like a child, his gaze bounds back and forth between Dieter and Heidi. 

“What the fuck are you doing here, Oliver?”

“I-I-I . . . uh . . . look, she called me, and I, uh –,”

“Natalie called you?” Heidi’s eyebrows arch up her forehead. She frowns at Dieter. “What for?”

At that, Oliver’s cheeks flush red. “Look, it can’t be traced back to me. I’ve got a green card and I can’t lose that. I need it – I have to –,”

“What can’t be traced back to you?” Dieter steps forward, his pulse quickening. 

Oliver actually whines when he looks back to his old friend.

“Look, I guess I didn’t realize how much she was t-taking. I was already high when I got here and just sort of let her h–have her pick –,”

Dieter’s stomach clenches. 

Heidi frowns, still not getting it. “What are you talking about? Have her pick of what?”

“Oliver.” Those pale eyes jump back to Dieter, his entire body shaking. “Where’s Natalie?” 

“I c-can’t be here, right now, ok-kay? They’re going to deport me if they f-find out that I–,”

Dieter thinks he hears the shower running. 

The air in the hallway thins, a ringing settling between his ears. 

The rest comes to him in flashes. 

Tattered pieces flung into the air, raining down images. He snatches at them but they crumble in his grip.

Shoving Oliver out of the way.

Pills, liquor bottles, powders on the table. Ones he knows he didn’t leave there. 

The white bathroom door.

This is the moment he realizes that blank door will haunt his nightmares for years to come. What he could have found on the other side. What he nearly does. 

Your pale hand dangles over the side of the tub. That’s the first thing he sees. It brings him to his knees on the tiled floor.

Shower water pelts your gray face, black lines of makeup streaking your white cheeks. Oliver had dumped you in there still clothed in black underwear and his green shirt, possibly in hopes that the water would rouse you. But you don’t react to the water, or the sounds he’s making. You don’t react to him sliding down over the lip of the tub to you, his hand cupping your face.  

You look small, broken and folded like a doll.

He had discarded you so easily.

But there, beneath the flood of water across your skin, he sees that you’re –

“Breathing,” he murmurs to himself, to you. “She’s breathing –,”

The ice cold water drenches his back as he pulls you out of the tub and into his lap. It’s not graceful, your knees and elbows knocking against the porcelain, but still you don’t move. You still don’t wake up. 

He drags you into his lap like a lion drags its prey, selfishly, hungrily, snarling. 

In his ears, the rushing of blood muffles all sound, everything happening in the room outside. He’s vaguely aware of movement, of running, of someone yelling. 

But you still haven’t opened your eyes. He touches your face, fingers dragging back the damp hair across your forehead, and he thinks he feels your pulse slow. 

No no no no no no no stop no not like this stop please i’m so sorry please don’t I’m begging you please please please please you can’t go you can’t leave me i’m so sorry please don’t leave me i’m so sorry please wake up wake up i’m begging you

please please please please

He doesn’t know what he keeps to himself or what he whispers out loud to you, arms wrapped around your back, limp head pressed tightly into his throat. 

He holds you until the ambulance comes, as if his constant vigil will keep you from slipping away.

It was an accident, Oliver assured the police. 

It was just a little fun that got out of hand. His stuff was more potent because it was made in a lab, not off the street. He didn’t remember to tell her and she didn’t know, Oliver said over and over and over again.

But that information came through Heidi’s contact at the police station, a contact that had been in the interview room when Oliver confessed everything in hopes of easing his sentence. But this was third hand gossip. A game of telephone that made Dieter nauseous to think about. 

Maybe it didn’t matter why, only that it did. Only that you were hurt, that you were unconscious. That what he had done to you made you do this to yourself. 

He watched the double doors from the hospital waiting room constantly. 

Curled up in the back corner, his eyes remained glued to the swinging, open-and-shut, entrance to the admission rooms. Where they took you after the ambulance arrived. They didn’t let him go back with you. He was prepared to lie and push and use every ounce of his considerable influence to let him see you, but in the end, Heidi brought him down. Told him to let them do their jobs and all he could do was wait. 

He paced the length of the waiting room, in the beginning. Shoulder curled, hands clenched across his body, nails bitten to the quick, he never took his eyes off that doorway. 

The nurse at the station initially glowered at his frantic energy, but then something lightened her gaze. She recognized him from somewhere but couldn’t place it. Heidi tried to get him to sit, drink water, but he refused.

Her police contact called her, told her Oliver had been arrested and was selling out his suppliers left and right. For his sake, Dieter hoped they’d deny bail and keep him in jail, away from the public. Away from anyone who might come after him. 

Heidi sits down next to him, now that he has settled, with a sigh, her second cup of coffee in a styrofoam cup from the machine smelling like burnt tar. She blows on it in a way that can only be described as calculating. 

His sweatshirt dried cold against his skin. Why are hospitals always so fucking freezing?

“Dieter,” she begins but he grinds his teeth so hard, it’s audible. 

“If you tell me to calm down, Heidi, I swear –,”

“No.” The word is heavy, cutting. It shuts him up immediately, even draws his dry gaze away from the doors. He looks at her, one of his oldest and only friends, with the coffee in her lap, thin pale fingers delicately holding the sides. Her eyes are unreadable as she watches him. “I want you to think about what you are going to say to her when she wakes up. And she will – that girl is tougher than you give her credit for,” she adds sternly. “But when she wakes up, that will be your one and only chance to do the right thing. The right thing for her. Not you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

He chews on his tongue, which has suddenly grown three sizes and gone dry. The finality in her voice, it sinks into him. An ax falling into wood but isn’t removed. Left there, splitting the wood apart and letting the wet molasses ooze out of the crack.

It’s not fair, his heart aches. It’s not fair. 

But it is right. 

Dieter wipes his eyes as a doctor walks out of the double doors, the first in what feels like hours, and he approaches them in the corner. 

He wants to ask, wants to open his mouth, but words have left him. What if it's bad news? What if –

Heidi stands to meet the doctor with an outstretched hand, Dieter shakily rising to his feet behind her. The doctor, a serious man with no facial hair and brown eyes, takes Heidi’s hand and returns the greeting. Dieter makes a fist in his pocket to keep his hand from trembling.

“You’re the family, then?”

Dieter wants to shake his head, no, this isn’t how families are supposed to be, but Heidi nods before he can confess his heart to an indifferent cause. 

“We are. How is she? Is she–,” Heidi’s voice cracks despite her stern tone and Dieter’s skin at the back of his head pulsates. 

“She’s alive,” the doctor says quickly. He wonders if that’s the information they have to give immediately. Some reassurance that all this time spent waiting wasn’t for nothing. That maybe something out there is kind and listened to his frantic begging. “But she will need to remain in our care for a few days. She’s going to be alright, but she very, very nearly wasn’t.”

The doctor goes on, describing what they had to do to save Natalie’s life. What poisons they found inside of her. What they took from her to piece her back together. 

Wasn’t. There’s an alternative in that. 

In a parallel universe, you died. You were gone. 

But in this one, you lived. You were still here. There was still time.

“Can I see her?” He blurts out, cutting the doctor off from his long explanation. Those brown eyes harden like bird shells when they fall on him.

“She’s unconscious, heavily sedated, but stable. The nurse will show you back, but she might not be able to hear you.”

He nods. You might not hear him now, but you would, one day. You would know how sorry he is if it was the last thing he did.

The doctor waves at a nurse and Heidi turns and takes him into a hug.

“Tell her we’re all rooting for her,” she whispers in his ear. “Tell her I’ll be here waiting for her when she gets up.”

He pulls back, something about her phrasing squeezing his heart, he doesn’t like that he doesn’t like that at all —

But the nurse is opening the double doors for him, expectant.

She’s smiling but her eyes are empty as he lets go and steps back towards the long white hallway.

Your one and only chance to do the right thing.

He follows the nurse down room after room. He can’t bear to look into the rooms through the small windows, to flood his imagination with images of your possible fate, so he stares resolutely at the back of the nurse’s head. 

She stops outside of room twenty two and opens the door for him.

“You’ve got ten minutes. You can come back in the morning during visiting hours.” 

He nods, her indifferent gaze almost a relief. Pity, mourning, he couldn’t stand to see it. One more crack and he’d break. Shatter and spill like marbles across the floor. 

He wants to thank the nurse, but the words get stuck and she walks off, handing him the responsibility of the door as she returns to the waiting room. 

His hand shakes against the frame.

You were right. You always have been. He’s such a fucking coward. 

Shaking, knees wobbling, Dieter falters as he goes into your room. It smells sweet, the air pungent and cloying. As if dead flowers had been sprinkled over filth. 

There’s one light behind you, the curtains drawn shut, shadows heavy. 

Where you had been a limp, lifeless doll in the bathroom tub, stretched thin in the small bed now you more resembled a weak, helpless child. Small, pale, ragged to the bone. As if someone had stripped back years of your life, revealing a vulnerability lost long into adulthood. A brush with death and you become humbled, glancing towards the light erodes your false pretenses until you lay bare at the end of time and at the beginning.

You look so, so sick. 

His knees give out when he spots the skin beneath the arms of your hospital gown. The plastic seat beneath him all but holding him up right, he lifts the sleeve closest to him. 

The skin is purple, green, in the shape of fingers. His fingers. He had done this to you. Of all the things he thought he was, thought he had become, this sort of monster seemed unfathomable. But he was wrong. He had become a special kind of monster. 

His thumb trembles as he rubs the bruise, so sickened with himself his stomach churns. 

As though pinched, you suddenly gasp awake, the machines monitoring you spiking and chirping. Twisting in the bed, eyes blurry, it’s clear you don’t know where you are, what has happened. You struggle until he puts his hands on your shoulders.

“Baby – baby, calm down. You’re safe. You’re in the hospital.”

Your hair still hasn’t dried completely and it curls around your shoulders like tentacles. Easing back down, you look up at him, eyes fluttering as you try and focus your gaze. You blink and recognition suddenly sparks across your face.

“Dieter?” You cry out and suddenly your cheeks are flushed with tears. Your pale skin sparks pink as you sob wretchedly. “Dieter – I-I t-thought you l-left me–,” 

A solid block of stone where his heart used to be, he pulls you into his lap, arms clutched tightly around you. You’re shaking and shaking and shaking as you mutter,

“Thought you were g-gone. Thought you left m-me fore-eve-r-r. L-left m-me.” 

Dieter swallows, his chin on your head, aware of his own tears but doing nothing to wipe them away. 

He lets you cry. Holds you tight and strong in his arms and, as he always has been, unable to offer any real comfort. Real support. He offered nothing real, nothing tangible, no promises kept, because he had nothing to give. He sees that now.

You slow in your cries, your wailing, but you’re muttering something else now. He can’t hear it with your face against his heart, so he eases you away, hand soothing your neck, thumb by your ear. Your eyes are closed and you immediately try to nestle into him again, like a kitten searching for warmth.

“I did it . . . it’s my fault . . . I did it . . .” You claw at his forearms.

“Did what, baby?” He tilts your head up, up to him, to the light. Your face is puffy and pink and your lips are covered in tears. They spill again, your skin slippery, as you answer: 

“I ruined your life, Dieter.”

In his shock and horror, his grip loosens and that’s all you need to launch yourself forward into him again. Your arms hold him by the waist so tightly it’s like you fear he’s going to fade away, crying again, crying anew. His eyes flutter shut, against the building wave of nausea in his gut, against the soothing hum of your skin against his – this is where we’re supposed to be – against the acceptance of what’s to come. 

He lets you cry, perhaps longer than he should but he’s determined to sear the memory of your skin, your shoulders, your hips, your head into every crevice inside of him, stuff himself full of you when he has nothing else to sustain him on. He’s still greedy, selfish, corruptible, when it comes to you. 

And that’s the whole fucking point.

“Natalie–,” he tries and it comes out soft. “Natalie, I have to tell you something.”

You pull away from him, eyes puffy and red, your beautiful mouth twisted and gnarled in grief. But there’s something wrong with your eyes, your gaze blurry.

His stomach knots with the realization that you might not remember any of this, the sedatives too strong. Fighting against his trembling chin, he takes you by the jaw, gently, carefully, how you’re meant to be handled and he has done it wrong so many times before.

“Natalie, I’m going to go away for a while,” he says. Your eyes fill with tears, but they don’t spill over. Your mouth twists petulantly.

“For how long?”

“For a while. You’re sick and you have to get better.”

You turn your head, considering his words. “When I get better, can I come see you?” 

His jaw twists, dropping your gaze, chin trembling and teeth clattering. “I don’t know, baby. I don’t think that’s a good idea.’”

“Why?” You’re crying again and, finally, so does he. 

“We’re not good for each other. And I can’t keep doing this to you.”

“Do what, Dieter?” You aren’t sobbing like before, but you pale. Like a ghost. Like he’s killing you.

Inhaling through a wet mouth, he kisses you on the forehead, tears flushing out of the corner of his eyes. Your little fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt.

“Dieter, I love you.” You mutter to his collarbone and that makes him let go. Releases you. 

Sets you free. 

You lived and he still had to say goodbye. 

He wants to tell you in kind, try and capture this roaring, expansive feeling in his chest and give it to you. Offer himself on the funeral pyre if it keeps you warm. 

You suddenly can’t quite focus on him, the rock of your shoulders is unsteady. Either the medicine is kicking in or the brief bout of consciousness is fading. 

“Go to sleep, baby.” 

You nod, eyelids heavy, and he gently eases you back, into the pillows, your weight growing as sleep overwhelms you. By the time, he has you against the white sheets, you’re already gone. He recedes from you, grateful and furious and happy and screaming all at once. He gives you one final kiss on the curve of your eyebrow, lingering long after he should, before tucking your hair back and moving away. 

His last image of you is deathly pale and alone. 

Nurses and staff stride through the hallways, around gurneys and into supply closets. Disembodied voices call out doctors through the intercoms and machines make noise. No one stops him as he walks down the long hallway and through the exit. 

The metal handle clenches loudly as he pushes through, out into the dawning morning. It’s purple and quiet and not a soul in the entire city moves.

The rain has finally stopped. 

“You’re still watching that?” Dan probes her, his patrol of the hospital slow given how late it is. “It’s just some dumb award show.”

April makes a face at him, glancing down briefly to finish her notes before her shift is over. Her feet ache and she’s looking forward to the pasta in her fridge. 

“I worked a double today. If I want to indulge in a dumb show, I can.” She caps her pen and takes off her nurse’s badge. “Besides, it’s not a dumb awards show, it’s the dumb awards show. The Oscars are kind of important, idiot.”

Dan smirks, their banter the thing he looks forward to the most in his days as a security guard. 

Neither one of them notice the single man walking past the nurses station towards the exit. 

“Did you even watch any of these –,”

“Shush, they’re announcing Best Picture.”

A woman on the stage in a golden floor-length gown, her smile as bright as the lights around her, opens the envelope in her hands.

“And the Oscar goes to . . .” 

She lifts the card, extending the suspension in her inhale. 

“Recovery Road!”

The crowd on the TV bursts into applause and April squeals, clapping excitedly.

“Oh, please, like you even saw that in theaters.”

April shoots him a dirty look. “Yes, I did! I loved it. It’s my favorite movie of the year – maybe ever! I cried, like, four times. ”

Dan’s expression softens as he looks at her. She can’t soothe the blush in her cheeks quick enough. 

“You really like movies, don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah, ever since I was a kid.”

“Maybe I could take you to one sometime.”

She smiles at him. “I’d like that.”

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x reader #the bubble fanfic #the bubble fic #the bubble fanfiction #the bubble 2016 #dieter bravo/f!reader #dieter bravo/you #dieter bravo/reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[roguetelepaths]

byron + 1, 2, 5, 24,

Oh fuck yeah I was hoping someone would do this. This is going to be a massive wall of text and I'm sorry but also I'm really not. You have unleashed the infodump dragon and it's not leaving until it's run off some of its zoomies.

Why do you like or dislike this character?

You know a fun fact about me is that I was on Team Byron Disliker when I first started Season 5 just due to what I'd heard through pop culture osmosis. I even made a post to that effect after watching a couple of his episodes (deleted now because I was sick of seeing it in my notes) that got some circulation in the fandom. But the further I got into that arc and the more I thought about him, the less I saw what I expected to see when I started. Instead I saw someone who, though flawed, spent most of the time he was on screen trying to be gentle and compassionate and trying to protect his people in a situation that was hell bent on making it as hard as possible for him to do those things.

I do think he has a manipulative streak, and I do think he's the type to occasionally do very hurtful things because he believes he's doing so for the right reasons (see for example that fucking "doesn't it feel nice to be asked" scene between him and Lyta in The Paragon of Animals, even as a Lyta/Byron shipper that makes me SO ANGRY because that point could be made in LITERALLY any other way that didn't involve demeaning her and shouting at her, I get that you're pissed off at the people who did that to her but taking it out on her isn't gonna help anyone so stop) but those flaws when combined with his genuine good intentions and abundance of care are fascinating.

A big part of why I think people dislike him as a character is because those flaws are presented as an immutable Fact Of Who He Is, which, yeah, I can see why someone would find that insufferable, but I like writing character growth and he deserves some.

Tl;dr, I like him because he's complicated. I dislike the way canon never seemed to want to grapple with those complications.

Favorite canon thing about this character?

That scene with the one guy in Downbelow. You know the one. Letting someone punch you repeatedly because you want to teach them a lesson about how finding a target to beat up on isn't actually going to solve their problems is... genuinely fucking baller and I wish we'd gotten to see more of that side of him.

Also that thing with Lyta in Strange Relations that's basically a mutual "I'm not overextending myself YOU'RE overextending yourself! Please slow down and rest 🥺" is probably what made me ship them as hard as I do. Dipping out of canon and into my fic for a second, but that interaction is so different from their first interaction that I kind of have to wonder if someone talked to him about the way he treated her. (I may have written a missing scene about that but it needs some fine tuning before I feel good about posting it.)

What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

oh my god!!! so many. SO MANY. But uhhhh I can narrow it down to like four?

Runaway by The National as a general theme song

I, Carrion (Icarian) by Hozier as a soft and sad song for him and Lyta

The Deserter's Song by Radical Face as a backstory reveal song

New World Coming (any version but I like the one by Nina Simone best because. Come on. It's Nina fucking Simone how can you top that) because I'm almost certain it was one of the songs JMS pulled from when he was writing That Song For That Scene.

What other character from another fandom of yours that reminds you of them?

I've been saying this from the very beginning— The Signless from Homestuck. (Yes, I'm a Homestuck enjoyer. Sorry.) I just love my pacifist resistance leaders with feral partners and tragic endings okay.

#babylon 5 #byronposting #<- new tag for stuff that's not about my fix-it au

[minhosimthings]

Hold Me Without Hurting Me

Chapter 3: Carnations and Cold Winds

A/N: In which an old friend fills your life with flowers again, along a bumpy sided road.

Pairings: Ceo!Jay × Ceo!fem!reader, includes rest of Enhypen and certain other groups

Warnings: angst-fluff, hurt/comfort, friends to enemies to fake dating to enemies to lovers, Mentions of food and alcohol, swearing, nothing much but it's a bumpy story.

Story prompt: If I had a flower for every time I fell in love with you, I would walk in my garden forever. (This story is based on the language of flowers.)

A/N: Third chapter, i know its short but my dumb brain cant do shit rn. the next chapter will be released really quicky since ive already completed it! and then we'll see about the fifth chapter which i'll start if writer's block doesnt magically hit me.

SERIES MASTERLIST

"Ma'am are you quite sure, that you are- ahem- ok enough to go to today's meeting?" Jungwon basically jogged behind you, as you once again made your way down to the meeting hall. You had gone home the night before and ate mint chocolate ice cream while listening to Hozier on full blast. Jungwon didn't have the heart to tell you that he could listen to you crying so he let you be, wondering how on earth you were going to go to the meeting today.

You took a deep breath and looked at the files in Jungwon's hands. Truth be told, you felt terrified to go to the meeting today. But the ship has got to face the storm someday, so you kept a calm expression on your face, choosing to scream internally. "I'm quite alright Jungwon." You walked further to the door, stopping at the handle. "We can do this."

You pressed down on the cold handle on the door, and opened the great oak creation, to a sight which made your heart drop. All of them were already sitting there with only your seat lying empty. "Miss Y/N." The man with the sharp nose and plum brown hair spike first, "You're late." You frowned slightly as you entered the room, making sure to tap your heels noisily on the floor. "I belive I was informed that the timing was 8:30 pm?" You asked, looking at the plum haired man, who furrowed his eyebrows and want back in his chair. He looked very much like a ginger cat in your opinion. "I'm sorry Miss Y/N, but all of us were told to arrive here at 8 am." Mr Hwang said, as you dropped down to your chair next to Sunghoon. "Well If you would like proof that I was wrongly informed, my assistant will gladly provide you with it." You snapped, this time glancing slightly at Jay. He had that smug smile on his face, which you so very disliked, and his hands were twirling the calla lilies which he had taken out of the vase.

"Anyways-" Heeseung spoke up, setting his hands on the table, "-as we were discussing about the recent market changes worldwide, I was wondering whether any of you had noticed why it has been happening?" You promptly took up the file in front of you and cleared your throat. "I had an entire presentation ready, if you are willing to lend an ear, Mr Lee." The corners of Heeseung's mouth twitched slightly to form a gentle smile which you gladly returned as he gave you the gesture to speak up. You got up from your seat and went over to the board, passing Jay and not once even glancing at him.

"And that's why, gentlemen-" you put your pen down finishing with your very detailed presentations that you definetly did not work on for three months, "-I think we should focus more on the aspects of supply and demand rather than entirely focusing on profitable trades." The entire room watched with faces akin to something like awe as they gently applauded, nodding their heads in approval. You held your chin up, proud of yourself, as you returned to your seat, noticing the little thumbs up Sunghoon gave you beneath the table. "Yes amazing presentation Miss Yang but-" you heard Jay's voice say, laced with smuggish tones, "-why shall we, as the heads of leading companies focus on mere tiny details like this when we have people hired to do that?" A murmur of agreement came out from among the other beings in the room. "Mr Park does make a point Miss Yang." The plum haired man spoke out. "Why should I, Choi Minho, the heir and owner of a billion dollar company, do all the economic work when I have people at my feet who can do it for me in a jiffy?" You clenched your jaw at his words, trying to keep your anger in. You could see Jungwon from the corner of your eye, looking at Minho with that face he made when you asked him whether or not he likes mint chocolate ice cream (spoiler alert: he hated it).

"Well Mr Choi-" you smiled at Minho, slightly startling him, "-I must say that you'd be beheaded by now if we were living in 18th century France, with those appalling morals of yours." Minho slammed his hands on the desk, gritting his teeth tightly, and glaring at you. "How dare you, you fucking-"

"Calm down, Mr Choi." Jay's cool voice rang through the room, slightly louder than Minho's, "Miss Yang was just making a joke wasn't she?" Jay glared at you, as he finished his sentence. Not wanting to create conflict with your colleagues, you meekly looked down at your skirt and then looked up at Minho. "I'm sorry Mr Choi. I shouldn't have said that. I hope you'll forgive me?" You tried not to smile, as Minho stopped fuming and mumbled a 'you're forgiven', making you feel as proud as a peacock dancing in the glittery rain

"Ma'am that was awesome." Jungwon panted as you exited the meeting room. "I have such a cool boss." You blushed at his words, only now realising how cold it was, as you felt your skin shiver. "Wanna head up to the bar Jungwon?" You asked him, pressing the button of the elevator. Jungwon shook his head and smiled up at you. "It's actually my mom's birthday today and she expects me to call her at eleven pm to talk." He sighed dramatically, "Guess I need to go be a good Korean son, without a girlfriend." You giggled at his words and were about to get into the elevator when- "Miss Yang, a word please?" Ugh that voice, you thought, why did he have to follow you?

"Not now Mr Park." You stated, turning back to see Jay with his hands in the pockets of his maroon suit, "You see I was just heading up to the bar with my assistant." You hoped the blatant lie wouldn't be caught but- "Y/N, you blink twice whenever you lie." Jay chuckled, "And anyway I just overheard the conversation between you and this young man. Mind if I take you boss for the night?" He asked Jungwon, who turned red and looked at you with widened eyes. You sighed heavily and gave the files in your hands to Jungwon. "Go Jungwon. I can handle myself." You added a smile in order to comfort him a bit which he returned, showing off the dimples on his cheek.

"Now that I have a drink in my hands-" you took your Margherita glass, "-what the fuck do you want?" Jay stuck out his tongue at you and sipped on his champagne. Then after a few moments, he pulled out a bouquet. You rolled your eyes at him. "Really Jongsoeng? A fucking bouquet now?" "Just take it Y/N." He huffed, to which you took the bouquet in your hands, twirling it around. Crocus and Yellow Carnations. "You're asking me why I'm mad at you? And you couldn't have asked that directly like normal human beings?" You scoffed, trying to ignore the amazing fragrance coming from the carnations. Jay motioned for another glass of champagne as he looked you up and down. "What?" You said, glaring at where his eyes were going. "Nothing." Jay raised his hands up in defense, "Just wanted to say that you really did change a lot. The Y/N I knew wouldn't call talking through flowers abnormal human behaviour." "Well just assume the Y/N you knew is dead and I'm her imposter." You took out the umbrella from your Margherita. "Please-" Jay scoffed, "-the Y/N I knew would always suck on her umbrellas like a seven year old child." "That was one time Joengsoeng! One time!" You said in protest, a smile slowly creeping up on your face, as Jay giggled slightly.

"Alright enough with the festivities." Jay said, his eyes now becoming more serious. "Have you thought about the little offer I made?" You spit out the sip of Margherita you had in your mouth and stared ahead with widened eyes, before looking into Jay's eyes, hoping that you were staring into his soul. "No Jay." You huffed and puffed like the big bad wolf, "I'm not doing it. Plus-" you smiled proudly, "Mr Lee has already accepted my offer and we are to begin the actual work when I get back to Seoul."

The smirk on your face was wiped off very quickly however, when Jay burst out laughing. "Heeseung accepted your offer? Oh my yarrow-" he wiped a tear falling from his eye, "Perhaps I forgot to tell you, but I own Heeseung's company. I'm literally his boss and I told him to accept the offer." Your entire body freezed over as you watched the words being formed by Jay's mouth. The cold November breeze outside seemed to reach you even though the heated mess of the bar. This wasn't the Jay you used to know either.

"Now my yarrow-" Jay leaned forward, putting his glass down and adjusting his watch, "If you want Heeseung to keep his offer, and I know you want it because you were basically halfway to your knees begging him for it" he smirked, "You'll have to do me a favour." "Joengsoeng what the fuck." You finally breathed out, having nothing but anger in your veins. "Tch tch princess." Jay clicked his tongue, "Hasn't anyone taught you to clean that mouth out?" You clenched your fists together and finished off the last sip of your Margherita. "What do you want me to do?" You said with a defeated tone. You didn't know whether it was from the pure exhaustion or from the fact that you didn't want to lose you offer, that made you utter those words, which made Jay's smug smile grow ever larger.

"Hmm maybe it'll upset you a bit princess but-" he got up from his seat and patted down his suit nearly, "I want you to be my girlfriend for some weeks."

#jay #park jay #enhypen park jongseong #enhypen #enha #enha jay #enha park jay #enhypen jay park #enha jay fic #enhypen jay fic #jay fic #jay angst #jay fluff #jay hurt comfort #park jay angst #park jay fluff #jay fluff fic #jay angst fic #enhypen jay #Enhypen park jay #enhypen jay fluff #bye bye now

[sugalaritae]

lost myth of true love (kth) 1

summary: for six months you wait for him, a weekend spent together, finally able to reach the man your soul is tethered to.

pairing: Kim Taehyung x female Reader

au: supernatural, soulmates

genre: angst, longing, not fluff but deep love??, sooooft smut

warnings: lots of angst and sadness, brief mentions of sex, nipples, wet genitalia ;), cock warming, sort of hinted at creampie, taehyung just got out of the shower, descriptions and admiration of jungkook's tattoos

rating: 18+ (there will be smut at a later date)

word count: 1.1k

a/n: this idea came to me like a bolt last night while i was listening to hozier (thank you to andrew hozier-byrne for the title as well) and i had to write it. i had such immense help from @augustbutwinter @miscelunaaa and @wwilloww (who also made this wonderful banner). thank you three for everything!! this is also for the absolutely wonderful, talented, helpful, and fantastic human @illneverrecover for the possumversary!! thank you possums for letting me into the dumpster. you have all helped me so immensely 💖💖 this is the first part of a small drabble series. i hope you enjoy it

series masterlist || next

© sugalaritae, 2022. you do not have any permission to repost or translate my work even if you give credit. all of this is mine.

There’s a knock at the door.

You can’t believe that your time is almost up.

The sinking feeling that stays in the centre of your chest slowly begins to show itself again. You had just gotten rid of it. Or so you thought.

It’s been there since you can remember, and yet you bask in that rush of coolness as the feeling slowly disappears with each kiss against your neck, shoulders, legs. Taehyung’s long fingers paint soft lines against your skin causing the feeling to slowly float further away from you, like a raft pushed not far enough onto the sand.

The raft will only be pushed back toward you by the tide, as it can never get as far as you would like it to.

You would like it gone, washed away completely, to watch it slowly float into the distance, becoming smaller and smaller with every lap of water against the rough ropes and worn-down wood.

You would like to have more time with him, unwatched, unmonitored. But Jungkook is always there, always watching. Knowing that the younger man (if you can call him that) hears everything that happens behind the door that he guards reminds you that time is fleeting. You are always being watched. Someone always waits and while they do, you watch the hand of time, who waits for no one.

Every moment shared with him is written down. You spend a whole day after he leaves recording all that you can remember. Every whispered word of praise and love is written down so that you can look back on it when you miss him the most.

For now though, you stare at the door as if it were knocked on by a person (or thing) that you loathe, and not the sweet tattooed being standing on the other side.

The bathroom door opens and Taehyung walks out, running a small towel over his hair which hangs heavy against his forehead, a white hotel towel wrapped loosely around his waist. Ten years you have known and loved him, and you still find yourself shocked by how beautiful he is. 

You are still shocked that he is yours.

He cannot change; he is frozen while time moves all around him, and yet when you see him he looks new, as if you are seeing him for the first time all over again. Every time he arrives and takes you into his arms, you are certain that he has changed because no being in this universe should be able to look like that.

“What’s wron–” he starts before another knock on the door rings through the room.

He must not have heard the first knock behind the second door, but he should have guessed from the look you were giving it.

You watch as he walks toward the door to the hotel hallway and slides the chain over and out. You hear the slip of the metal against the wooden frame before you see it, obscured by his hand.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to let you know that there are only a few hours until sunrise,” Jungkook’s voice slips into the room and grates against your skin.

There was a time when you found solace in his voice. When you talked about music over coffee in the hotel lobbies while Taehyung slept upstairs. When you wondered what those hands would feel like against your skin. Whether there would be a change in feel of his skin as you touched his tattoos. All of that has since passed. You can’t remember when it did, but you guess it was around seven years ago when your time with Taehyung became shorter due to reasons that were far out of both your control and his. You couldn’t get angry or frustrated with Taehyung though, so instead, it all became directed at Jungkook. He seemed shocked at first, but had since grown used to it.

Perhaps he mourns the friendship you used to have. Perhaps he wants to get angry with you now. Wants to shake you and tell you that everything you’re feeling is not his fault but Yoongi’s. That he is the wrong man to be upset with.

You watch the muscles in Taehyung’s back move as he keeps one hand on the door. You can hear every word, and it is a conversation that you have heard before. You almost know it by heart. They change a few lines here and there, but they are actors in roles in which you have watched them for a decade: and nothing has changed.

Including the way Taehyung’s shoulders clench as Jungkook mentions that the two of them need to leave before sunrise and not during.

You know the conversation will end soon and yet you say his name, wincing internally at the way you sound like a woman in one of those old movies, sultrily asking their lover to “come back to bed.”

The door closes and you close your eyes. Mere hours left with the man you love. The man your soul is tied to.

He sits on the edge of the bed and bends over to kiss your neck softly before he whispers that he is sorry, the word falling like another kiss, this one bitter and coated in sadness. You don’t want to cry. Crying feels so useless: this is something you’ve been through before and yet—

His fingers slip up your arm, across your collarbone and down your breast, his thumb brushing against your nipple s l o w l y. It pulls a moan from deep in your chest, where love sits and is filled in by the feeling of loneliness.

The raft is being directed by the tide toward your beach.

Your fingers pull at him, needing him closer.

The towel falls away as you feel his fingers against your wet sex. He moves quickly between your legs and pushes into you, pulling a moan from both of you that fills the room as he settles in you.

You make love, slow at times, hard and rushed at others. It ends with him spooning you. He stays inside your heat as his arms hold you close to his chest and he shares his warmth with you where your skin touches.

“I love you,” he whispers and you slowly separate so you can turn and face him.

“I love you too,” you say back to him, despite the shattering of your heart.

You will see him again in six months. You will share everything with each other that first day and you will kiss and fuck for the second day, until the sun comes up. Then he will kiss you goodbye, and slip out of the room with Jungkook beside him. This is the life you have with your soulmate, the one you love, the one you are bound to. You will envy those who have easier soulmates but that feeling will only last a week, and then you will get used to that sinking feeling again. You will float out to sea on your raft and wait to be pulled back in.

___

tag list: @herecomesjoon @neverendingforever

#kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung fic #kim taehyung x you #btsgoldnet #btswritersclub #btshoneyhive #btswritingcafe #taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fic #kim taehyung fanfic #fic: lost myth of true love #*harrow writes #possumversary