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ahundredtimesover · 3 years

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Inevitable (01) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader (ft. ot6)

Genre/Tags: exes au, parents au, baseball player!JK; angst, fluff, smut (18+)

Series Warnings: foul language, alcohol consumption, minor character death, explicit sexual content in future chapters (oral, unprotected sex but be safe please!)

Chapter Word count: 6.9k

Summary: You convinced Jungkook to break up years ago so he could pursue his lifelong baseball dream. Now he’s back home, staring at you, and the little boy next to you who looks unmistakably like him.

A/N: Couldn’t stop thinking about how Yang Jungwon’s role model is Jungkook and they have similar features (especially as kids) and the sweetest smiles! Hence, the little angel we have here. I hope you enjoy this first chapter! Also, you can message me if you want to be part of the taglist!

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You stare at the grocery list, eyes squinting to try to read the words you’d half-mindedly written down this morning.

Your boss convinced you to take Friday off when it slipped that Jungwon has been having separation anxiety lately, as he hasn’t spent time with his mother this whole winter break.

You’d been doing overtime - on weekdays and weekends - and your boss, a mother herself, knows that overworking would take its toll on you and your son, especially as a single parent. It’s why you’re here now, grocery shopping with the little one, something he enjoys doing with you, too.

Still, it’s just one day and it’s not really enough to compensate for all the other days you work your ass off at the company, but the pay is good and the people are kind; those have been enough for you to stay the past two years.

A smile forms on your face once you decipher the crooked words on the piece of paper you’re holding up. You can make out the word ‘banana’ right before ‘milk,’ ‘choc’ somewhere near ‘ice cream,’ and ‘bron’ just next to ‘cereal.’ Brown cereal? Did he mean cocoa pops?

Jungwon has improved his writing and vocabulary and you pat yourself on the back for the times you’d forced yourself awake during your Sunday rest time just so you could guide him on his workbook. You congratulate yourself for thinking of showing him flash cards while he scrubs himself in the makeshift tub during bath time. And you thank the heavens for your best friend Taehyung’s bright idea of setting up a blackboard on the wall on Jungwon’s side of the bed so he can doodle until he falls asleep.

“Am I not the best uncle, muffin?” Taehyung had asked the little one then, who always knew what to answer.

“You and uncle Joonie are the best,” Jungwon had said.

Your kid is a ball of fluff, you’d almost think it’s genetic because you definitely are not one, but the other half of him is.

You brush away that thought before your chest begins to tighten. You choose to think that Tae and your older brother Namjoon, whom Jungwon spends the most time with apart from you, are true softies and he’d definitely gotten it from them.

You’re still smiling, insides warming enough to brave through the January cold until you realize that you’re no longer hearing your son’s buzzing sound that he does when he plays with his airplane. For all his softness, he does give you a heart attack every once in a while because of his tendency to scurry somewhere that piques his interest. It was probably the aisle that had those chocolates he wanted so you pick up your basket and rush to the one right next to where you are.

Your heart drops to the floor at the sight of your son standing in front of a man who’s crouching down, tinkering with the toy. It probably disassembled again and this does not earn you a pat on the back this time for forgetting to buy Jungwon a new one that’s more age-appropriate, and for not paying enough attention.

You’re partly shocked and partly curious - he’s a shy kid, tends to run back to you at the sight of an unfamiliar person, wide eyes usually on full display when someone tries to get his attention.

But not right now. He’s still wide-eyed but he’s sporting a shy smile, one he tries to suppress by biting his lower lip. Wonder where he got that from. Such mannerisms aren’t genetic too, right?

The mystery man hands him the toy airplane, which Jungown clutches to his chest. He bows at the man and whispers a ‘thank you.’ If that man wanted to do something bad, he would’ve taken Jungwon already but he hasn’t. You’re glad that at least a kind man has found your son.

“Jungwon, sweetie. Come here, please,” you call out, moving a bit to try to get the man’s attention to express your thanks but he’s sporting a hoodie that’s engulfing his face. Maybe you should’ve been more scared.

The stranger shakily stands up and turns as Jungown runs to you with his eyes not leaving his little toy.

Your eyes, on the other hand, can’t leave the figure standing just a few feet away from you, like a bad dream but that isn’t exactly a nightmare.

He’s here. He’s home. And he looks just as gorgeous as you remember - expressive onyx eyes, pretty thin lips, defined jawline, muscular build...

His own eyes move from you to the kid next to you, trying to come up with explanations, mind reeling at what this could mean. You sounded so tender, so loving, so… motherly.

“Jung—”

“Your—”

You both say at the same time. His eyes are fixated on Jungwon, probably trying to figure out who the child is to you.

“I’m babysitting,” you panic.

Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow and just as he’s about to open his mouth to say something, Jungwon decides to not be shy in front of a supposed stranger.

“Mama, that man fixed my plane!” He excitedly says, and you hate to crush his little moment of joy.

Jungkook’s eyes are now saucer-like, not at all minding that you were caught in a lie but that you, the woman who’d broken his heart all those years ago, have a child. A child whose eyes uncannily and painfully resemble his.

You and Jungkook both seem to be in a daze, your own thoughts swirling in your heads at the situation that neither expected would happen.

You stopped watching his baseball games about two years ago and had avoided whatever news about him would come up. Except recently when you’d heard about him possibly signing with a South Korean baseball team. Looks like did because he’s here, and he hasn’t been in years.

You’d heard from your brother that Jungkook had been doing well with the LA Dodgers and you hadn’t expected that he’d up and leave what had been his home the past four or so years to, well, come home. You’re glad he is but you also aren’t prepared for this.

Jungkook, on the other hand, had tried his best to forget about you soon after you walked out on him that December evening, almost succeeding multiple times until he gave up altogether. He came home last week, earlier than what he’d told the media, since he knew they’d be hampering him about his homecoming, given his recent signing with the Doosan Bears, one of Seoul’s professional baseball teams.

He’d spent the past few days in Busan to visit his mother and arrived from his 4-hour drive just an hour ago. He’d hoped to reach out or run into you but didn’t expect it to actually happen today. He definitely didn’t expect you’d have a son, too.

“Mama, did you get my banana milk?” Jungwon asks, breaking the bubble of confusion and shock between you and Jungkook, both unbelieving at the reality of you finally being in the same space, breathing the same air after so long.

“Yeah, I—” you start, placing the basket down and picking up your son, suddenly feeling nauseous.

Your mind is a puddle of thoughts and you just know that incoherent words will escape your mouth if you don’t leave right now so you make a run for it, or at least try. You walk briskly, clutching Jungwon tightly with his arms wrapped around your neck, so you don’t see him smiling at the man following both of you.

Jungkook calls out your name, prompting Jungwon to state that the man who’d fixed his plane knows his mother.

There are more people with their pushcarts near the exit, making it hard for your quick escape. Jungkook is catching up and upon realizing you won’t turn back to acknowledge him, he talks to Jungwon instead.

“How old are you, buddy?” Jungkook asks, legs clearly made for this. He’s panting though, you can hear it in his voice.

You can’t make a scene so you just try to walk faster.

You feel Jungwon release an arm and you know he’s putting out the ‘four’ sign, something he likes to do.

“When is your birthday?” Jungkook asks shortly after.

Oh god, you think. Jungwon loves this question. “July 6!” He exclaims.

The footsteps become faint and you’re brave enough to turn back as you near the exit doors. Jungkook stands there, dots connecting, mouth agape at what this means.

You leave the supermarket and run to your car, hurriedly placing Jungwon on the car seat and driving away, willing the tears not to fall.

“Who was that, Mama?” He innocently asks.

You admit that you’d thought about the day you’d see Jungkook and let him know about the little one too many times, but this isn’t how you planned it to happen - in public, when you’re incredibly tired, and when you haven’t thought about what you’d say.

This isn’t how you planned on telling Jungwon, too, so you tell a half-truth, like what you’d done a few times before.

“He’s a friend, sweetcheeks. He’s just a friend.”

The tears eventually fall about 5 hours later.

You got home from the grocery - without your groceries, watched cartoons with Jungwon, had food delivered, then prepared him for bed.

You’re now sat on your couch, wine glass in hand, as you try to make sense of the overwhelming emotions of seeing the man that was once your world. Technically, Jungkook still is, considering that your son is half of him.

But it’s different now. Too much has changed since you broke up with him, since he left 5 years ago to chase his dreams of playing for the Major League Baseball in the US, the dream he’d shared with his father, the dream he’d spent his whole life chasing.

Baseball had always been Jungkook’s world; a given, you always thought, since his own father was a baseball star himself, whose dream of playing for the MLB materialized during a trip to Boston as a teenager, the blinding lights and massiveness of Fenway Park and the roars of the crowd cheering for the Red Sox so alluring that he’d made it a point to watch a live game at least once a year.

His own career as a professional player for the South Korean league had been commendable, leading his teams to championships and even playing for the 1996 Olympics. That had been the second best experience of his life, the first being Jungkook’s birth two years prior. Marrying his wife was a close third, and it was something the pair always laughed about. You know this because Jungkook raved about his parents a lot, used to talk about them like he just lived next door to his mother - whom he called everyday, like his father was still alive.

His father didn’t have the luxury of getting scouted by American teams because baseball wasn’t as big then, but his dream of playing for the MLB never faded. Just like what his own father had done, he’d taken Jungkook to a live game every year since Jungkook was six, and tried to watch in every baseball park of every major league team.

They’d only make it to seven though. By that time, the cancer had been debilitating and he had to give up that annual date with his only child. Watching the Lotte Giants in their hometown of Busan had been enough for 13-year old Jungkook, who’d likewise been fascinated by the game, so was waking up in the wee hours of the morning to still catch MLB games on TV.

Jungkook was 14 when his old man passed.

He rarely talked about his father’s death. He also rarely talked about his father outside of baseball. He was a father-coach, Jungkook used to say, not the scary, stage father type who pressured him but the incredibly supportive, only slightly critical one. He’d made Jungkook fall in love with baseball, made him have a reason to wake up everyday, made him have something work hard for, fight for.

After he passed, baseball became something Jungkook hung onto, something he used to remind him of the man that made him who he is today. It became the most sacred part of himself, not for the popularity it gained him nor the praises he received, but because it showed the best parts of him, which were also the best parts of his father - his self-confidence, his tenacity, his grit, and his resolve, his passion for his craft.

Baseball taught Jungkook the value of hard work, of commitment, of focus, while at the same time reminding him of his physical capabilities and limitations.

It’s why he took his Sports Science course seriously, knowing that until his last breath, he would live for the sport. He’d play until he’s physically able, and do everything else when he can’t.

Jungkook had always been a good leader - another trait he got from his father, served as the pillar of strength of every team he’d been a part of because of his vulnerability that allowed others to trust him, to believe him.

His self-confidence may border on arrogance, his forcefulness and intensity may be perceived as aggression, but behind his intimidating aura on the field - partly personality, partly physical prowess - is a tender human being who gets excited over sweets, gushes over Ironman merchandise, likes making blanket forts, squeals over baby animals, enjoys bear hugs, and who just loves to love.

Those were what made you fall for him in the first place. They were what made your naturally cold exterior dissolve until your heart had become bare for him, until your insecurities had become insignificant, until you’d exuded almost the same joy that he had.

Seeing him today just brought the memories back, as if nothing has changed with what you felt for him, as if the pain you felt when you told him it was over, when you walked out and he let you, was just a breath away.

You didn’t realize just how much you missed him until you saw him again, until his proximity reminded you how his laugh used to sound, how his wide eyes and sweet smile looked like, how his sensual touches used to feel.

The tears fall again. That pain, that love - it’s like they never went away.

“Uncle Tete!” Jungwon squeals as your best friend picks up your son from the floor, swinging him around in a circle, soft laughter reverberating through the walls of your cozy apartment. It only takes a few rounds before Taehyung puts him down and complains that his arms already hurt.

“What happened to working on arm exercises?” You chuckle.

“Don’t remind me, you know I hate lifting weights. Plus, like that would make much of a difference,” he exclaims, slim arms out, being swallowed by his sweater. “I’m not an athlete, you know?”

You flinch at the comment and so does he.

“Sorry, too soon?”

“Yes,” you say, rolling your eyes and settling in the kitchen, a bit farther away from Jungwon, whose eyes are now fixated on the TV.

“Hey, I wouldn’t have known Jungkook was back if he hadn’t decided to revive our group chat yesterday after 2 years to ask everyone if they’ve seen you recently because you apparently have a kid and he believes he’s the father.”

“Pretty straightforward, huh?”

“He didn’t wanna waste time. Didn’t even care that your brother is in the same group,” Taehyung shrugs.

“Probably knows Namjoon won’t check.”

“True. But still, how bold of your ex.”

“What did the guys say?” You ask, curious if they ever caught on. Your twice a year appearance since college graduation seemed to be enough for them.

“Yoongi cursed. Jin spammed with theories because he’s convinced you haven’t had a boyfriend in years. Hoseok sent a video message of his reaction, which was really just him freaking out. Jimin acted surprised.”

“And you?”

“I left the group chat.”

You smack his arm, earning you a scowl. “Real smooth, Kim Taehyung.”

“Well, what was I gonna say? ‘Yeah, Jungkook. Your ex-girlfriend was actually pregnant when she broke up with you and you’re totally the father?’”

“You could’ve feigned ignorance, you know, or like denied it until I figured out what to say.”

“___,” he deadpans. “One look at Jungwon and it screams Jungkook. His name isn’t actually subtle, okay? Look at your kid, he even dresses up and eats like the father he’s never met!”

You motion for him to tone it down but Jungwon is busy watching the Avengers cartoons in his Ironman pajamas while sipping his banana milk.

“I’m not projecting!” You say, defending yourself because you know that’s what Taehyung is gonna say.

“It’s not my fault that my kid chose Ironman as his favorite Avenger no matter how many times I pushed Captain America to his face, okay? He didn’t even mind the shield I bought,” you pout.

“And he won’t drink plain milk. If it’s not banana, it’s chocolate. And he loves sweets, loves to hug people, has the cutest laugh…” You sigh, still racking your brain on what parts of your son he got from you.

“Maybe the universe is the one projecting, you know? Like it just had to find a way for Jungwon to be connected to Jungkook, if not physically then by other ways.”

“Your theory is sweet but I doubt it, Tae.”

“My theory is backed by evidence. And a father’s instinct because that shit’s real. Jungkook was still around during those first two months, the bond probably developed then.”

“Jungwon was the size of a raspberry. It’s highly unlikely.”

“Can you just stop deflecting? The father of your son is here. What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know! Get my shit together and figure out what to say? You know I’m not ready for this,” you exclaim.

“Funny that you knew exactly what to say when you broke up with him but now you don’t,” Taehyung cocks an eyebrow.

“Are you my best friend or are you out to get me?”

“I’m just saying. You made that decision all on your own. Didn’t even confide in me,” he pouts. “I could’ve thrown some other options that didn’t require you breaking his heart and yours too, and going through all this by yourself.”

“Except I didn’t go through all this by myself,” you pat his head. “I had you and Namjoon. You were all I needed. Still do.”

“We can never take the place of Jungwon’s father, you know that right?”

“I know, I just… He’s not just my kid’s father, Tae. He’s my ex-boyfriend too. The man I loved.”

“You mean love. The man you still think about, and miss terribly.”

You squint at him as if in question. It’s been years since you and Taehyung had shared an apartment where he’d seen you cry almost everyday. It was something he wasn’t used to because you don’t cry, especially in front of others, not when you found out you were pregnant, not when you walked into Jungkook’s apartment only to walk out of his life. Not when Jungkook skipped graduation and left early for the US.

Everything changed after Jungwon’s birth. It’s like all the tears you never cried decided it was time. And you had years’ worth of it.

“Your kid’s a lot more perceptive than you think. He tells me sometimes that he sees you cry when you’re in bed or when you’re watching TV with him, and why else would you be crying if it wasn’t for that man?”

Of course he does. Jungwon, again just like his father, is thoughtful and pays you a lot of attention. Seriously, what about you did this kid inherit?

“The dam breaks every once in a while, I can’t help it.”

“Now you can,” Taehyung says as he gives you a hug. “You should talk to him. And soon. You know he deserves it.”

Jungkook stares at the ceiling, unwilling to move from the comforts of his bed. Head throbbing from the bottles of SoJu he downed with his older cousin, Jin, last night, the events of the day before are mighty clear in his mind.

He’d really seen you, the woman who once laid residence in his mind and his heart that he could not get rid of no matter how hard he tried, because you’d broken every possible thing you could when you decided to break up all those years ago.

He remembers that night so clearly, how he’d been excited to finally spend time with you so he could ask you to go with him to the US. You chose to break his heart instead, deciding by yourself that it wouldn’t work out. The only reason he agreed was because he’d been too hurt to even think of another way, but whether he agreed or not, he knew you would’ve walked out of his life regardless.

But there you were yesterday, dressed in your favorite-colored down jacket, hair longer than he remembers, little kid in tow calling you Mama.

Mama.

He’d just gotten back in Seoul after a visit to his mother. He’d made sure to be sneaky, as he wanted some peace and quiet before all the interviews and events he’ll need to attend because of this “homecoming” that everybody seemed to be making a big deal out of.

He was doing well with the LA Dodgers, even had meetings and possible offers with the Boston Red Sox, the team his father obsessed over. Jungkook was well on his way for bigger things in the largest baseball league in the world.

He decided to sign with the Doosan Bears instead, not even his hometown baseball team. He’ll chalk it up to missing home, maybe breaking ground so he can play in the Olympics, too, just like his father.

He was gonna seek you out, that was definitely part of the plan. He still considers the breakup as partly one-sided and he wanted to know how you were doing. He also knew he was bound to run into you because there was no escaping your circle of friends, who apparently seemed clueless as well.

Except for Taehyung, obviously, because he’s your best friend and he definitely would’ve known. But you’re here in Seoul, how did you dodge the rest of them? And Namjoon had really been able to keep everything a secret?

There were so many questions. Jin took it upon himself to be his confidante last night because surprisingly, Jimin, his best friend, had been mum about it. Jungkook and Jin spent the rest of last night scouring through social media for any trace of you and that kid but there had been none.

Jungkook is desperate, not just because he wants to see you but the child… looked like him.

The grocery was a few neighborhoods away from his, but it was next to the bank he was in so he decided to just do his shopping then. He’d been going through the sweets aisle, ready to fill the pantry of his new apartment with his favorite snacks, then he heard a thump and a soft quivering voice.

He turned to see a little boy looking sad over his toy airplane whose one wing had been clipped off. An adult didn’t seem to be around and he definitely trusts himself more than any other stranger so he’d approached the kid and asked if he needed help.

Curious doe-eyes met his questioning gaze, until the little kid took the airplane and its broken wing in his arms and cradled them.

“It’s hurt,” the kid had said, and he felt his heart burst at the cuteness and softness of this child. Jungkook took the toy and easily fixed it, the sliding slot probably too hard for his little hands to maneuver. He was about to ask for the kid’s name when he heard a familiar voice call out, the kid looking up and scurrying away from him.

And then there was you.

Everything felt hazy until the kid called you his Mama. You’d picked him up and started walking away before Jungkook could even greet you. He’d seen your abandoned grocery basket, which he could easily pass up as his own because of the same things he’d buy for himself.

The wheels were turning in his head and it wasn’t until the kid, apparently named Jungwon, stated his age that Jungkook pieced everything together. Or at least the possibility.

Could Jungwon be his child?

At the thought of this, Jungkook froze, watched your figure disappear from his sight, the eyes of the child boring into him as you walked away again. The kid let out a small smile and Jungkook had seen enough pictures of himself as a little kid in the news the past few weeks to be reminded of how he looked like, and he looked like that. It was unmistakable.

The scene plays in his head again and Jungkook feels the throbbing of his chest match the throbbing of his head, the need to confirm his suspicions and know the whole truth seeping through his veins. He tries to calm himself down, which is difficult, but he knows he needs a level-head if the truth is what he wants from you.

It’s just past lunchtime and he calls Jimin for help. As he enters the passenger seat, Jimin asks his friend for the destination.

“Take me to Taehyung’s place.”

Jungkook is running on adrenaline. With a sober mind now and a still-aching chest, he’s willing his body to relax but he’s unable, focused only on finding the truth.

There’s concern and an air of acceptance in Taehyung’s face when he opens the door to Jungkook, the idea of him showing up here having something that Taehyung has considered. Jungkook has at least half a mind to reach out to someone else before going to you.

Taehyung welcomes him in, knowing better not to argue or match the other man’s emotions. Jungkook doesn’t ask questions though and instead heads for the refrigerator, bites his lips at the sight of the same brand of banana milk he’d seen in your grocery basket.

He walks around the apartment, not missing the small basket of toys by the window. He opens a room that’s actually Taehyung’s art room and sees a paint set for kids, a framed photo of him with Jungwon placed on a shelf and next to it is a painting, the words “Jeon Jungwon” written at the bottom. It’s all the confirmation that he needs.

“Find what you’re looking for?” Taehyung asks, arms on his waist now, a bit of annoyance seeping through at the disrespect being shown to him. He gets that Jungkook is upset, but Taehyung knows him, knows he’s probably coming up with his own conclusions in his mind.

Before Jungkook could say anything, they hear the front door open, Namjoon’s deep voice calling out.

“Tae, did you get to drop off the groceries at ___’s? Jungwon’s been asking for his milk since yesterday and—” Namjoon stops as he stands by the door, eyes wide at Jungkook standing there, no doubt trying to keep himself together.

“Are you Jungwon’s father now?” He directs the question to Taehyung, the bitterness in Jungkook’s voice not lost on all the men present, including Jimin who’d been having his own battle in his mind because pretty soon, the anger will be directed at him, too.

Jungkook is the kid’s father, he’s sure of it now, yet the thought of another man taking that role causes an ache in his chest.

“Jungwon sleeps here? Does art with you? Does he call you—”

“He calls Tae ‘uncle,’ Jungkook. The same thing he calls me,” Jimin says, essentially coming out.

“You knew? This whole time?” Jungkook yells, fists clenched as the anger builds.

“Just a few years ago but—”

“And you said nothing to me?”

“It was just 2 years ago.”

“And you’ve visited me twice a year since then and you never thought to tell me that I have a son…” Jungkook flinches at the word, unbelieving that it’s something he’d even say.

“Look, just calm down, okay?” Jimin tries, but he knows it won’t do much.

“Calm down? I’m fucking livid. I have a…” Jungkook stops himself, willing the tears not to fall. All this time, you had a child that you’d kept from him, without a care of how he would feel.

“Jungkook, just take a breath, yeah?” Namjoon says this time, walking towards the younger man and pulls him in for a hug. “It’s a lot, I know. But just breathe for a bit.”

Jungkook pulls away, a mix of anger and sadness in his eyes. “How could she keep this from me?”

“Only she can answer that,” Namjoon sighs.

“I need to see her,” Jungkook states after a long pause.

“I can ask when she’s free—” Taehyung offers, ready to get his phone.

“I need to see her now.”

Jungkook finds himself in Jimin’s car, with Taehyung in the backseat talking to you over the phone, saying that he’ll take Jungwon for the rest of the afternoon and that they’re on their way.

Jungkook listens to Taehyung talk to you with so much care, the way he always had all those years ago. Nothing has changed, really.

Back in college, people tried to keep their distance from you, afraid of your resting bitch face and usually cold demeanor. Jungkook had heard about you from Jin, a good friend of your brother’s, and couldn’t quite reconcile the incredibly friendly and gentle Taehyung as your best friend.

It was one of the things that intrigued Jungkook, and he’d find out later on, after pulling all the stops with his flirting and finally getting you to agree on a coffee date, that you really did have a bitch face and you were cold if you wanted to be.

But you were so unapologetically you that it was refreshing. It wasn’t a defense mechanism or anything, it was just really who you were, but that wasn’t everything about you - you were also caring, protective, generous, extremely hardworking, and very confident.

Jungkook had fallen in love faster than he could throw a baseball, and he knows he can throw past 90/mph.

You complemented each other so beautifully that fights were easily resolved, if any, dates were always exciting, and moments together were never boring, even if it was just you quietly working on a paper and him noisily studying his games.

Taehyung was relentless in befriending you and you caved in pretty easily. “Look at the smile,” you’d said once. “Who can resist that?” You always had a soft spot for your best friend and Jungkook never minded; he’d trusted your relationship and you when you said that he never had to worry about Taehyung.

Except now. Because Taehyung seems to be a father figure to his son, being what Jungwon had needed all these years, while Jungkook had been clueless about it.

The night you broke up with him, you left him a weeping mess and begging behind closed doors to please don’t go. He felt he’d lost a big part of him, felt the soul-crushing feeling of losing someone again.

The loss of you was something he couldn’t prepare for and he’d spent years trying to put the pieces again, all on his own, in a foreign country, while chasing his dream. It had been hard but after some time, he rationalized in his mind that maybe you were right, maybe it would’ve been very hard for the both of you given the distance, the time difference, the busy schedules. It wouldn’t have been fair; he’d accepted that.

But keeping his child from him like this? This is too much. This is ruthless. You made a decision again. All by yourself. And he’s angry.

Everyone is thankful that Jungwon is asleep, although it’s a chance for Jungkook to see the little one in slumber, looking like the most adorable boy in the world.

Jimin and Taehyung agree to leave first, Jungkook not wanting them to wait, although he’s unsure how long this conversation with you is going to last.

You’ve been pacing back and forth since Taehyung called, informing you of the impromptu visit and Jungkook being unrelenting in his decision to speak with you today. You would’ve wanted to wait, although you know that Tae is right - Jungkook needs to know as soon as possible; he deserves that much.

In your more than 2 years together, you barely saw Jungkook angry - that was more of your thing because he enjoyed annoying the hell out of you every time and you always gave him shit for it.

But you two barely fought - you understood his busy schedule and were never really the jealous type, despite the presence of his “fans” (except maybe around Sora who’d named herself as the president of Jungkook’s fan club like that shit still flies), while Jungkook always knew how to make it up to you. He rarely complained, too if you ditched him to work on your projects.

But this Jungkook is different - his nostrils are flaring, brows are furrowed, jaws are clenched you’re afraid he’d break his teeth.

You’re different, too. You’re nervous, more reserved, not with your usual crossed arms but with fingers fidgeting at the loss of control.

You lead him in the living room and motion for him to sit down but he dismisses you.

“Hi, Jung—”

“I need to hear it from you,” he breathes out. “I know, god, I fucking know but I need to hear it from you.”

You take a deep breath and you say the words you’ve practiced in your head. “Jungwon is our son.”

You see him close his eyes, bite his lips, and tilt his head. It’s how you know he’s trying to control his emotions.

The silence is deafening but you give him time to process.

“How? I mean, you were on birth control and you said you never missed…” He stammers.

“Pills are not 100%, Jungkook. It just happened,” you explain, racking your brain for days right after you took the test over how it might’ve happened. At one point you stopped; it was no use.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

It’s the big question, the one he’s been losing his mind over. It doesn’t matter that it happened; he just doesn’t know how you could make that big of a decision all on your own when it concerned him, the other half of the child.

“You were on your way to the big leagues. I couldn’t take that away from you.”

“But you thought it was alright to take away years with my son?” He seethes. “Fuck, ___. That wasn’t your decision to make.”

It wasn’t, not fully at least, you knew it. But he wouldn’t make that decision, so you had to.

“I made it anyway,” you respond, tone more stern now.

With all the pain and struggles it brought, it’s the one thing you stand by; it’s a decision you never regretted. Watching Jungkook play in the ballparks his dad never got to take him to, seeing him blow a kiss to the sky before and after every game, and catching him mouth the words ‘I love you, dad’ after his interviews have always been enough to trump everything else.

Jungkook had been living his and his father’s dream. It had always felt worth it.

“Why? I would’ve stayed,” Jungkook yells.

“Exactly. You would’ve,” you yell back. “I was sure that the moment you knew, you would’ve passed up a dream you worked your whole life for. I couldn’t let you do that. I couldn’t let you make that decision.”

“So you made it for me, by giving me none at all?” He scoffs. “Real brave, ___. And real fucked up, too.”

“It was the only way for you to go!” You exclaim. “If you had known, you wouldn’t have left, you would’ve settled, stayed behind… You would’ve given everything up.”

“Because that’s our child, ___!”

“And we didn’t plan on having him!” You shout, tears prickling on the corners of your eyes now.

“You’ve known baseball your whole life, Jungkook. Everything you’ve ever done was so you could play in the MLB and you did. You made it happen because you had the best opportunity and you took it, worked hard, got to where you wanted to be,” you rationalize.

He’s panting as he processes your words, mind going again to that night when you walked out on him, making sense of the reasons why, those you verbalized and those you didn’t.

“I know you, Jungkook,” you sigh, your voice taking him back to the present. “You’d take responsibility because that’s the kind of man you are. You would’ve insisted on taking care of us, on letting go of everything else for us, for your son. And I couldn’t let you give up on your dream, the one thing left of your father…”

“Don’t you fucking dare bring up my father,” he snaps at you, eyes so cold and you feel so small.

“You wouldn’t have forgiven yourself if you let that dream go for us.”

“Then you don’t really know me, ___. Because the hell would I give us up just like that. The hell would I give up time away from my son.”

He pulls his hair out of frustration, then lets go, tears now streaming down his face.

“I was 14 when I lost my dad, ___.”

“I know, and I’m sorry—”

“No, you don’t know. And you aren’t sorry,” he retorts, his back facing you as he tries to get himself together. “I had to watch him wither away, had to stay by his bedside and watch him take his final breath because my mother couldn’t. I was 14 and I had to be strong for my parents. And I cried, every single night, for months,” he heaves.

He turns to face you, wants you to know how much you’ve hurt him.

“I almost quit school because I wouldn’t get out of my bed, wouldn’t talk to anyone. I told you I suffered, that I lost my way,” he continues, weeping.

But you didn’t know this, didn’t know he suffered like this, that he lost his way like this.

“But the dream kept you going, didn’t it?” You try. “It gave you purpose; you had something to live for, Jungkook,” you continue, reminding him of what the dream meant to him.

He’d been young but he had so many memories with his father about baseball; it had been the core of their relationship, the thread that kept them connected years after his death.

“In return for what?” He barks. “Fuck, I would’ve given anything to have my father again. And that includes that dream, ___.”

You stare at him, his body now crouching down on the couch, unable to fully lift himself up. You’d never seen him like this. He was never afraid to cry but this is different.

Your own tears are relentless, as if telling you that this is all because of you and you deserve this pain. You had broken this man, and you’d done so without regret.

He looks up at you, wipes his tear-drenched face, illuminating the pain, the longing, the anger.

“You took four years of my life away from my son. You robbed me of that chance. You didn’t even give me a choice. How fucking selfish are you? You had no right, ___,” he huffs.

“I just… I know you, Jungkook. You would’ve stayed and then what?” You say, trying to stand your ground, but even you don’t believe your words, at least not anymore.

“You’ll regret it down the road? Resent us because you had to stay? How would we feel? How would Jungwon feel, knowing that his father gave up his dream for him?”

“Really? You’re absolutely sure that’s what would happen? As if I’m not resenting you now?” Jungkook scoffs.

“You don’t know what it’s like to have someone be taken from you, to not have enough time with them. But yeah, you need to have the last say always, right?” He says coldly, allowing the silence to let you take in his bitter words.

“You can’t ever feel like you don’t have control so you make all the decisions by yourself. Hurting those in your wake before they hurt you. But it’s all good right because you stand by it? As long as it’s enough to rid you of the guilt even if it hurts everyone else?”

This is how he hurts you - peeling away your layers and throwing them back at you, until there’s nothing left but all the parts you didn’t want anyone to see. But Jungkook had seen them, accepted them, loved you despite them.

But he’s standing in front of you. And there’s no love in his eyes. You don’t think you deserve it anymore.

You give him this, the last say. And he takes it. And he leaves.

Like countless times before, you fall to the floor and cry. You cry until your sounds are loud enough, until you can no longer hear your own heart breaking.

Taglist: @fluffyjoons @jwlmnbt @koremis @mrcleanheichou @kooafraid @purplepommy @btstannies @jeonwiixard @songshin @joondala @hobiade @di0rgguk @fan-ati--c @yn-the-reader @spicybangtanwings @njkbangtan @jeoncookie-bts @miniaturecloud @revehosh @preciouschimine @sherlynxx @dimreads

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#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfiction #parents au #exes au #baseball player jk #inevitable #series

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dudeandduchess · 3 years

Text

Baseball Player!Kyōjurō x F!S/O: ❌📛🔞Locker Room Fun🔞📛❌ (Modern AU, NSFW Scenario)

Summary: (Y/n) visits her husband during training, and is in for a surprise when he makes the most of things… in the locker room.

Note: After a while of thinking, I decided to finally pick this back up. Also, I didn’t have much time to research, so the description for the stadium’s interior is based solely on my experience. 😅

Warnings: Smut, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, Mild D/s Themes, Daddy Kink, Creampie, Hair Pulling, Loud Sex, Mild Sadism, Semi-Public Sex

***

If (Y/n) were to take a guess, she would say that Kyōjurō was doing what he was doing just to tease her. From the way that his ass looked so good in those pants, to the way that he would stretch his arms up over his head and show off his muscles— she had to admit that he looked scrumptious.

Tasty enough to make her bite down on her bottom lip, as she squeezed her legs together to alleviate the need building between her thighs.

But, as far as she knew, Kyōjurō couldn’t have known that she was there— since her visit was supposed to be a surprise. That fact made it so that Kyō wasn’t doing anything on purpose; he was just that naturally sexy.

Especially with the way that his uniform clung to him, and the way that a few strands of his hair peeked out from beneath the cap he wore. Everything about him had (Y/n) fighting back her lust, and she was barely winning.

However, when Kyōjurō spotted her in the stands, he gave her a cheeky grin and wave— as well as a saucy wink— that had her practically swooning in her seat. It was just fortunate that she was good at keeping a poker face, otherwise everyone would have known just how flustered she felt inside.

And with the way that he started stretching his legs, and squatting on the field… (Y/n) swore that Kyōjurō was really trying to get mauled, by her specifically. Unfortunately for him, his wife had more self control than he gave her credit for.

If anything, he was the insatiable one when it came to sex.

So, instead of outwardly feeding into his provocation, (Y/n) merely clenched her thighs tighter together; simultaneously wishing for Kyōjurō’s practice game to drag on, and be over already— because it meant she could either keep on ogling his sexy ass, or she could finally get the kiss that she’d been craving since after he left that morning.

An hour and a half later though, the game was already over with Kyōjurō’s team winning with a two-point lead. Cheers were thrown around, as well as friendly thumps on each other’s shoulders— yet Kyōjurō merely grinned at his teammates and threw a wave over his shoulder, before dashing towards the ground railings and lifting himself up onto the bleacher area with ease.

He even found himself taking the stairs two at a time— like that would help him get to his wife faster. Meanwhile, (Y/n) got out of her seat and met him halfway; arms wide open as her husband wrapped his own arms around her waist and hugged her tightly to his chest.

“I missed you, baby!” And without so much as a care about their spectators, Kyōjurō leaned in and slanted his lips against his wife’s delectable mouth. He even went saucier and opened his lips to snake his tongue between her lips— loving the way that she immediately gave in to his whim.

From below, they could hear whistles and cat calls, yet they paid it no mind. Rather, (Y/n) couldn’t focus on anything else except Kyōjurō’s lips sucking on her tongue, as well as his hands making their way down to her ass. And, unmistakably, she could feel his cock slowly getting hard against her.

“I can tell, Kyō,” (Y/n) answered with a cheeky grin, catching her breath during the reprieve that her husband had given her. “I can help you out with that… at home.”

“I can’t wait that long, (Y/n). I want you so bad,” Kyōjurō whispered heatedly, cupping her ass in his hands and pushing his erection more insistently against her body. He would have given in and just fucked her right there, especially with how tempting she looked from the moment he saw her, but he really wasn’t in the mood to be fined for indecent exposure.

So, as if a lightbulb went on in his head, Kyōjurō put a stopper on his overflowing need for his wife, and blurted out, “I have an idea… but we just have to wait a few minutes.”

“Why do I both love and hate the sound of that?”

“Trust me, baby. You’ll love it.”

***

And not even half an hour later, (Y/n) found herself getting dragged into the underbelly of the stadium; her footsteps echoing against the concrete floors and walls.

Everything was so wide and spacious, with carts going to and fro every once in a while. It was honestly a little daunting, which was why (Y/n) found herself hugging her husband’s arm; on top of already holding his hand.

Kyōjurō also smiled and waved at a few people, even going to accept a few hand shakes and pats on his shoulder from people they passed by. He was the epitome of a golden boy in baseball, that it was literally stated in his contract that he had to keep up a good rapport with his fans.

And (Y/n) couldn’t help but let her thoughts get the better of her— admiring her husband so much, that it made her want him so much more than she did before. Everything in her told her to pounce on him, like he had with her, and she was about to…

That was, until she and Kyōjurō reached a door that led off to a carpeted— and much quieter— area; away from the hustle and bustle of the people outside.

It smelled like disinfectant in there, and a little bit of sweat, which was why she was thankful that Kyōjurō practically ran with her deeper into the room; until they reached the showers. On one side was the communal shower area, and on the other— where her husband was pulling her to— were a few shower cubicles.

Kyōjurō wasted no time then, merely looking around to check if his teammates were already back from their cooldown workouts, before stripping his uniform off and heaping them in a pile right outside the stall.

All the while, (Y/n) could only bite down on her bottom lip as inch upon inch of her husband’s skin was revealed to her. And from the way that his abs looked, down to the way that his muscles moved— everything was making her so wet and needy.

Especially the sight of his big and hard cock.

Before she could stop herself, she had already pounced on him; wrapping her arms around his neck, while he lifted her up and held her up under her thighs. Thankfully, she had conveniently ‘forgotten’ to wear any panties beneath her sundress— as if a part of her just knew that it was going to happen.

Kyōjurō then pressed her back flush against the cold tile in the stall, making her gasp at the sudden temperature change, and making his cock twitch right where it was flush against (Y/n)’s pussy.

“Be quiet, baby, otherwise we’re going to get caught,” the young man teased with a grin, leaning in to kiss his wife’s lips, before nipping at her bottom lip with his teeth.

The action had (Y/n) chasing after the blond’s lips, making the blond chuckle as he gave in to her wishes; capturing her mouth in an open mouthed kiss, which she gladly reciprocated.

Until Kyōjurō inched his right hand higher up the underside of her thigh, pressing his fingers against her entrance and even pushing his ring and middle fingers inside up to the first knuckle.

That action, however, was already enough to have (Y/n) moaning in pleasure, all while she crossed her legs by the ankles— using that leverage to start rubbing her clit against the underside of Kyōjurō’s erection.

“Please, Daddy,” (Y/n) whispered in a plea, eyes fluttering closed as she felt his fingers going deeper inside her— scissoring within her walls, all to get her much wetter for something bigger.

“Please what, baby? You have to tell me what you want,” The young man teased, kissing his wife’s cheek as he felt her thighs clench harder around his hips.

And, as if to stir her up even more, he began to move his hips against hers— dragging his cock against her clit, in turn making her eyes flutter shut as salacious moans spilled free from her lips. “Please… fuck me. Fuck m-”

(Y/n)’s words were brought to a pause when she felt Kyōjurō’s fingers pull out of her, leaving her pussy feeling so empty; much, much needier. However, before she could even beg for more, her husband had already taken pity on her and lifted her up a little bit, if only to align his cock right with her entrance.

Then, he pushed in the barest inch— making (Y/n) moan aloud as her eyes rolled back in her head. Her breaths came in short bursts then, with her head feeling so heavy and her entire body getting so warm for him. It was as if an electric current passed through her, with how much pleasure she got from that one move alone.

Kyōjurō couldn’t help himself, he pushed in even more, gritting his teeth when he felt (Y/n)’s hands at the back of his neck— one of them scratching at his nape, while the other one curled into his hair. “Fuck, baby, I didn’t even eat you out but you’re this wet.”

“I’ve been wet since I saw you on the field, Daddy,” The young woman admitted through a moan, eyes hazy with delirious pleasure even as she tried to look right into her husband’s flame colored eyes.

At that, Kyōjurō claimed her lips in a kiss, letting it consume both of them until he moved his hips to begin thrusting against her. Every push of his cock inside her had her moaning against his mouth, all while her fingers kept tugging at his hair and gently scratching at his nape.

It only served to egg him on, to the point where a part of him didn’t care about how loud they were being; not when he was drowning in so much pleasure, and so much warmth in his wife’s arms.

Really, he’d already known that he was so lucky to have her— that moment was just reminding him of how much.

Every move felt like it was knocking the breath out of (Y/n), yet she held on tight and let herself sink into the heady pleasure she had been craving for. Especially when Kyōjurō pushed in really deep and brushed against her cervix.

Her legs tensed up at that, as a mix of white hot pleasure with just a hint of pain, ran down her entire body. “Deeper, Daddy! Deeper, please!”

Kyōjurō did as she asked, angling his hips to hit the part that made her absolutely crazy, only to be rewarded by her tightening her legs around his hips so she could meet him thrust for thrust. Her efforts weren’t doing much, but it was enough for him— given how he had her pressed up against the shower wall.

In the midst of things, he’d almost forgotten about his teammates— and how they would be done with their cooldown workouts soon— so, when the thought hit him, he began to thrust faster. He chased after his and his wife’s orgasms enthusiastically, not minding the noise they made since he was sure that no one other than them were in the showers.

If anything, them being so loud was turning him on even more. Especially with the way that his wife kept moaning his name in between kisses; he was loving every second of it, and wanted to prolong it as much as possible.

But slowly, he could feel the pleasure finally about to reach a tipping point within him. It was evident in his wife too, what with the way that her walls clenched down around his cock.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d have thought that she was trying to keep his cock in her forever. A hot thought, but definitely well within the realms of fantasy more than reality.

“Fuck, baby, I’m so close,” He whispered through winded breaths, keeping up with his initial pace before going for one last burst of speed— a move that had (Y/n) keening in pleasure, as she threw her head back and came around his cock.

It was the headiest thing that he had seen since the night before, when he’d fucked her much harder with her all tied up in their bed. And it also served to have him opting for slower and deeper thrusts, all so he could savor his own orgasm— and maybe wring out another one from her.

Her walls fluttered around his dick, adding to the headiness he already felt bubbling within him; pushing him closer and closer to the edge, until he couldn’t take it anymore and gave in— sliding his cock in to the hilt and pressing his slit up against (Y/n)’s sweet spot as he came.

He could even feel her shaking, as it triggered another orgasm from her.

And by the time that his thoughts were clear enough to make sense of what had just happened, he pulled back a little to look at how blissed out his wife was; feeling the corners of his lips tip up into a smile, before he leaned in to press the sweetest of kisses to those lips that he loved the most in the world.

“I’m so lucky to have you, baby. So, so lucky.”

***

BONUS:

“Has anyone seen where Rengoku went?”

Kyōjurō’s eyes immediately widened when he heard the voices coming down the hall— right into the shower area. And with a panicked look over his shoulder, then right at his wife, he had only realized that he didn’t even pull the shower curtain closed.

So, with his quick reflexes, he pulled the curtain closed just in time to hear the first of his teammates enter the shower area.

“Hey, Rengoku’s already here! His things are on the floor.” And those words had Kyō panicking even more, because there he was— with his dick still in his wife— in the team’s shower.

“We are not doing this again, Kyōjurō,” (Y/n) hissed under her breath, all while praying that no one would mess with her husband and open the curtain. Because really, they’d get more than they bargained for.

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thebluenoteblog · 3 years

Text

Chasing After You

Summary: Matthew just can’t let you go, no matter how hard he tries. Unluckily, you have the same problem.

Player: Matthew Tkachuk

Word Count: 2000

Warnings: I don’t know... a lot of drinking. A few bad words.

Authors Note: Be gentle, this is the first thing I’ve written in a really long time. It might be (probably is) a dumpster fire.

You come over when your wine's all gone

Always catch me when I'm not that strong

Then you wind up staying all night long

Ain't nothin' new

Matthew had finally reached rock bottom, he had to admit that, though to no one other than himself. Sitting home alone on a Friday night. No game to play, no practice to keep his mind busy, no friends to hang out with. Just him, a beer, the temptation of something stronger, and nothing on the TV.

It was really pathetic. The guys wouldn't believe it if they saw him right now. Or maybe they would. Maybe pathetic was his new style, it was certainly starting to feel like it after all.

He grabbed the remote off the couch beside him and began to flip channels, eventually settling on a baseball game. He wasn’t paying close enough attention to the game to tell you the score, he wasn't sure he even knew what teams were playing.

Just a few minutes into the game that he was sort of watching, there was a knock on his door. He checked his watch, 10:34. You were earlier than usual.

He pushed himself up off the couch and made his way to the front door of his apartment. He knew it was you. You were the only one the front desk let up without calling him. He still didn't know how you had managed that. Did you sweet talk the workers? Probably.

He pulled the door open and there you were, bottle of wine in hand. “I finished one already, but I thought you might be open to having a drink with me.”

There were a thousand alarm bells going off in his head, but he stepped aside and let you into his apartment. You kicked off your shoes in the entryway and followed him into the living room. Neither of you bothered with grabbing glasses, you uncorked the bottle and took a sip before passing it to Matthew.

He knew where this was going, he always did. He couldn't tell you why he never stopped it. Or maybe he could. Maybe he knew and he didn't want to admit that even after everything you had done to hurt him over the years, he was still unbelievably, irrevocably in love with you.

Then I wake up with you on my chest

You got a way of making me forget

Girl, with you the answers always yes

Every time you call

He was warmer than usual. It took him a minute to register you in his arms, head positioned comfortably on his chest. The way you used to sleep almost every night but now reserved for nights that you’d downed your alcohol a little to quickly.

Matthew was afraid to move, he knew that as soon as he stirred you, you’d be out the door just as quickly as you'd walked through it the night before. Just like that you would burst his bubble all over again. Just like you had a hundred times before.

Eventually your eyes fluttered open and he watched as you scanned the room, taking in where you were. “Morning,” he said.

You smiled, “Morning.”

The smile gave him hope that he squashed down just as quickly as it appeared. “Stay for breakfast?” He asked.

You shrugged, “Do I have to cook it?”

“I’ll order in,” He laughed softly. He would never let you cook for him again if that was all it took for you to stay. It wasn't, but he could dream.

You nodded, “I’m going to take a shower. What time do you have practice?”

Matthew glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “I’ve got a few hours still.”

You pushed up off his chest and he immediately missed the warmth of your body. He wanted to tell you to come back, just for a little while longer but he knew better. So he let you go, because having you in his shower was better than having you in an uber on the way back to your apartment.

But I know, yeah I know it's a matter of time

'Till you walk, 'till you walk back out of my life

Leave me standing here lonely feeling like a fool

You stretched up on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Matthew’s lips. It was soft, barely there. “I’ll call you.”

He knew you wouldn’t.

He nodded, “Text me when you get home safe.”

You nodded. “I will.”

He knew you wouldn’t.

You turned away from him and he watched as you disappeared down the hallway toward the elevator. When he couldn't see you anymore, he pushed the door closed and made his way back to the living room.

Here he was again, a fucking idiot with a broken heart and nothing but time to kill.

Every time, every time you say we're done

You come back to the love you were running from

Don't know why, don't know why I let you but I do

Guess I love chasing after you

Matthew glanced down at his phone, tuning out the guys as he scanned the message, What are you doing tonight?

He typed out a response before anyone could realize who he was talking to. Nothing important.

Your response was almost immediate, I’ll be over in an hour.

Matthew rose from his seat and shoved his phone into his pocket. “Hey guys, I’ll catch you later.”

Johnny sighed, “Don't do it man, you're going to regret it.”

Matthew shook his head, “You have no idea what you're talking about.”

They looked at each other before turning back to him, “Man, this is getting ridiculous. She isn't good for you.”

“How do you know what's good for me?” Matthew asked, crossing his arms and widening his stance. “I think I can protect myself, I'm a big boy.”

Johnny sighed and waved a hand in his general direction, “Whatever, do what you want. Just don't come whining to me when she disappears again.”

Matthew snorted, “I don't plan on it.”

Then he was gone, phone in hand calling an uber.

Listen

Wish I could quit you but it feels too good

If I could turn it off, you know I would

But somethin' 'bout you makes me think we could

Make it after all

There was nothing in the world that made you angrier than your inability to walk away from Matthew. After everything the two of you had put each other through, there was no reason to keep going back. Yet… here you were. Standing outside his apartment after what was essentially a booty call.

You almost wished that Matthew would tell you to fuck off just so you could move on with your life. He wouldn't do that though, you knew Matthew too well and he knew you too well too. That was the problem. You had been with each other on some level for so long that you couldn't remember what it was like to be apart.

You hadn’t knocked yet, you could still leave. Go home and do the responsible thing for once.

“Y/N.”

You turned toward the elevators, and there was Matthew. He looked amazing, t-shirt tight over his chest and shoulders, hair just a little bit in his eyes, the way you loved. There was no chance that you were leaving now. You were in this for the night now, not that this was bad news. You had never intended on leaving without seeing him.

“You’re early.” He said, running his hands through his hair.

“Yeah, I know,” You said, “I was bored.”

He nodded, “I can fix that.”

But I know, yeah I know it's a matter of time

'Till you walk, 'till you walk back out of my life

Leave me standing here lonely feeling like a fool

Why did he always think it would be different? Why was he always so determined to let himself think that there was a chance things would work out this time or next time or the time after that. There was no logical reason to believe that after all this time, anything would change, yet here he was, once again, surprised on some level that you had left him high and dry.

He closed the door, you had long since disappeared into the elevators, and he collapsed onto the couch. There was no way he would be hearing from you again for a while, so he buried his face in the throw pillow and decided to take a long nap.

After all, he had gotten no sleep the night before.

Every time, every time you say we're done

You come back to the love you were running from

Don't know why, don't know why I let you but I do

Guess I love chasing after you

You were always the one to end things. You had never, in your life, had your heart broken. You never let things get that far. You loved love, but you hated the idea of being hurt. So you kept everyone who tried to love you at a distance. Matthew was no exception, in fact he was the blueprint. There was no way you could ever give him your whole heart, there was no way you could ever trust him with a part of you that you had never given to anyone.

Oh, but you wanted to. More than anything, you wanted to give him every part of you in every way. You knew he loved you, on some level you knew that he would never hurt you, but here you were, three years into a mess of your own creation with no idea how to fix it.

“Y/N, I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

You glanced up from your hands, eyes scanning the massive wall clock hanging above your therapists desk. Your appointment would be over in twenty minutes and you had yet to say a word to her. “I don’t know where to start today.”

She nodded, “What is bothering you today? Let's start with that.”

You sighed, “Matthew.”

“What about him?” She asked, tapping her pencil on the notepad that rested on her crossed legs.

You resisted the urge to sigh again. “I just…” You looked down at your hands, “I wish that I could let myself be happy with him.”

You come over when your wine's all gone

Always catch me when I'm not that strong

Then you wind up staying all night long

Ain't nothin' new

Two firm raps on the door had Matthew freezing as he poured his drink. He set the bottle down and made his way to the living room. He pulled the door open and there you were, beautiful as ever. Hair pulled up in a messy bun, hands in the pocket of your coat. “Hey, Matthew.”

Matthew smiled his eyes wondering over you, memorizing every inch as he stepped out of the way to let you into the apartment. “No wine this time?”

“No, no wine tonight..”

He laughed as he pushed the door closed behind you. “It's okay, I have some.”

You kicked off your shoes by his front door before turning to face him. “Actually, I was thinking maybe we could try this sober tonight.”

Matthew stared at you, his expression some strange mix of confusion and hopefulness. “Why?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. You wanted to tell him that you were working on your shit, that you were trying to be less scary and damaged, but you couldn’t find the words or the courage to share that with him. Instead, what came out of your mouth was a joke, “What, do you have to be drunk to enjoy my company?”

The corners of his mouth slowly turned up, “No, not at all.”

He followed you into the living room and took a seat beside you on the couch. Like always he gave you space. This time you scooted closer to him. His eyebrows rose for a split second, then he put an arm around your shoulders and grabbed the remote from the end table. “Want to watch a movie? I hear there’s some new Netflix original thats really good.”

You nodded and sank into his side as he scrolled through the selections.

Maybe this wasn't so scary.

Maybe you could get used to this.

#Matthew Tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk imagines #hockey imagine #nhl imagine

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

Intro to Criminal Minds: Why They Did It

Criminal Minds x MINDHUNTER AU

Spencer Reid x Margaret Carr (OC)

Part 1: Ed Kemper.

Summary: Spencer is teaching a 7-week seminar on the most interesting criminal cases, explaining their actions to understand why they took place. Only, not everyone in the audience is a student.

warnings: graphic details of a real rape and murder case, like every trigger in the book, applies to this fic so read with caution (if you watch either show you're used to it, however), it's all real and did actually happen and I don't support any of it. strangers to lovers, mutual pining, flirting, fluff, eventual smut, idiots in love, OC is Wendy Carr's daughter, her bio father is Jason Gideon

word count: 3.9K

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't having fun teaching.

He started with guest speaking, moving to special seminars a few times a year. But he wanted something more, settling for a 7-week criminal justice elective of his choosing.

Intro to Criminal Minds: why they did it. Giving Spencer an excuse to share the most intimate facts about serial offenders in a setting where no one could tell him to shut up.

14 students total signed up for the two-hour Seminar, taking place every Thursday at 11 am from September until Halloween. Over the 7 weeks, he would explain the fascinating insights of the most successful killers in the United States. Only asking that his students write about a prolific crime they find interesting by the end of term, for their full grade.

All he wanted was to read about obscure killers from around the world, from the perspective of aspiring profilers.

The first Thursday, he came prepared with his coffee a half hour before the class. He wanted to write the main points on the whiteboard in advance, nice and neatly.

To his surprise, a student was already there waiting for him. "Oh, hello,” he smiled softly.

She was sitting with a book in her hands, she pushed her glasses up her nose to look at him as he walked in. She was older than his typical student, around 35. Probably finishing up a degree or adding something to what she already had.

"Hi," she smiled at him. “Sorry, I’m early, I was visiting my mom at Quantico earlier.” She explained. "I'm not a teacher's pet or anything. Promise, I’m not even a student.”

It made him laugh slightly, correcting him like she read his mind. "It's okay, I'm Doctor Reid," he introduced himself softly.

“Margaret Carr, Peggy is also fine.”

"Pleasure to meet you," he said quickly before focusing his attention on the whiteboard.

He could feel her eyes on him the whole time he wrote, not wanting to turn around and catch her. "That's so interesting," he heard her mumble under her breath.

"Hmm?" He turned around.

"It's just that, everyday occurrences that never phase the regular person somehow cause psychopaths to kill," she read the board back to him.

"I was reading a study a while back about how psycho killers medulla oblongata is approximately 19% smaller than the average human’s. Based on the way they're nurtured as children affects if they grow up to kill. The ones that don't often end up in law enforcement and other positions of power where their psychopathic tendencies can come to play."

He was taken aback for a moment. He had never experienced a student who was like him before. Someone who just pulled facts into conversations like it was nothing.

"I read that as well," he smiled. "It is fascinating. The smallest amount of bullying and abuse from a mother or disappearance of a father figure can set them off."

"Or, on the other hand, there are people like Ted Bundy," she added. "He was well-loved and taken care of, but it went to his head. His god complex and affinity for lying led him to be incredibly charismatic and enabled his killing."

"You're very educated on this already; are you just interested in hearing me speak today?" He asked, not wanting her to leave, finding it interesting that she was there.

"Oh," she blushed. "I was going to talk to you more about it after the seminar actually."

“Okay, I’ll be waiting for you,” he felt a little giddy at the prospect.

"Thanks," she laughed. "Seriously though, I'm a big fan of your teaching style, I saw a few of your classes when my dad was teaching at the academy in 2005. It's a lot easier to remember facts if the lecturer genuinely loves what they're talking about."

"You're going to like this Seminar then. It’s basically just a way for me to get paid while unloading all the random facts I have,” he warned her with a smile.

"I know." She smiled back at him.

The rest of his students filed in slowly. By 11 am, 14 faces were staring back at him.

"Hello," he waved awkwardly. "I'm dr. Spencer Reid. For the last 12 years, I've worked with the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit. Catching serial offenders across the country."

He took a deep breath, letting the nerves find their way out of him. "I've been asked time and time again who my favourite serial killer is, which is a peculiar way to phrase the question. It feels morally wrong to have a favourite in the way people do with baseball players.

"I am, however, fascinated with several serial offenders' reasoning and explanation for why they did what they did. Every single killer is different, but it all comes back to 1 thing. Do you know what that is?"

They all shook their heads. “What is your relationship with your parents like?" He asked.

Everyone in the room reacted; some students sighed, some rolled their eyes as they recalled their parents and childhoods to memory.

"When a person decides to kill, it's often never in the moment. It's in childhood. The majority of serial offender's stories start the same; their mother didn't love them, their father left. Someone at home abused them or put them down repeatedly."

"Thus, causing a hatred so primal to bubble. No matter how hard they try and fight it, the bubble always bursts. They go from fantasizing to killing in retaliation for their abuse, taking the anger out in stages."

He referred to the board. "Every killer has a stressor and a trigger—something that causes the urge to bubble and the event that causes the bubble to rupture.”

"Edmund Kemper is a fascinating example of this. He grew up with a family for the first few years of his life before his father fully abandoned them. His mother handled the situation by turning her anger onto her son; it was his fault his father left, he looked just like him, Ed was just another useless man who would never amount to anything," he emphasized the words. Hoping the class sees the effects words have on children.

"He started by cutting up dolls, stealing his sister's barbies and cutting their heads off. In his mind, he was getting out his anger and hatred for how his mother saw him. She hated men, causing him to mature with a warped idea of what women are truly like."

"His attraction to killing worsened his mother's hatred; she could tell something was wrong with him, that he didn't react to everyday situations the way he should. By the time he was ten, she was locking him in the basement for days on end, telling him he was a monster and her biggest regret."

"The change in her rage amplified his own. He hated hearing her speak. He hated the way she walked around, thinking she was better than him. That just because she was a mother and a working woman, she deserved respect and submissive’s. All he could see was a woman with a big head who needed to be humbled. This is the moment when the psychotic side of his brain blended his hatred of his mother with how good it felt to kill."

"Is that why he, you know?" Peggy cut in, running her finger along her neck as she pretended to cut her head off.

He pressed his lips together in an awkward smile, nodding. "His signature, as it's called, was decapitation. But more specifically necrophiling the severed head of his victims."

The whole class let out a disgusted noise, Peggy and Spencer making eye contact while they shrugged, it wasn't news to them.

"At age ten, he moved from barbies to cats and dogs, never leaving them around for his mother to see. While he hated her, he was also absolutely terrified of her. Breading a special type of killer. When you think of school shooters or preferential predators, what do they have in common?" He asked.

He pointed at a student in the back. "They have a specific type of victim they’re after?"

"Exactly. Most serial offenders want to go after the cause of their pain or attraction. However, Ed wasn't able to kill the source of his rage for a long time. His mother mentally abused him so intensely that he believed she was in control of him and that her opinion of him mattered. He saw her as his God, he loved her, but he also knew that he disappointed her.

"He ran away soon after to find his father. Travelling to California, only to be told he was unwanted there as well. It wasn't just his mother that his father was escaping; it was the fundamental aspect of family that he didn't want. Ed defiantly didn't want to go back to his mother after that, so he moved in with his paternal grandparents."

He kept catching the looks on Peggy's face. She knew the story already, waiting patiently to hear the words he chose to make the horrific acts seem a little more conversational.

"His grandmother was exactly like his mother. If I had to guess, his father most likely had a distaste for his own mother and thus divorced Ed's mom. Only he never grew up to be a killer, just an absent father—his absence doing to Ed what never happened to him."

"Ed killed his grandparents when he was 15. Telling the police and his therapists that they had beaten him constantly, they refused to feed him and called him names. He said he snapped from the trauma; it was self-defence."

Peggy laughed to herself, making him smile softly. "Sending him to a mental hospital instead of a juvenile facility was the worst thing they could've done for him," Spencer added.

"Why?" A student asked.

"Ed is a psychopath." He reminded them. "He doesn't feel empathy the way we do. You can admit that you feel bad for him, yes? If you understand why he killed people, it doesn't make you sick, like him, it makes you human. You see a hurt person hurting others; Ed Kemper sees himself as a new sort of God, choosing who dies, how and when."

"He was brilliant, having the exact IQ as I do," just a humblebrag, "the staff trusted him. He looked like an innocent boy, smart enough to take matters into his own hands for the betterment of his life. They gave him computer privileges, they let him work the front desk and file patient information. Giving him all the resources to learn about who he was inside and how to get away with it perfectly."

"Damn," another kid added. "When did he get out?"

"At 21.” He answered the student quickly. “Ed was interviewed by my mentor Jason Gideon, in the 70s. Where he explained that being locked up during his sexual prime, as well as the access to information, is what truly set him off more than his mother.

"He moved back in with her and his sister when he came out of the institution, immediately returning to the constant ridicule. He went from being told all the time that he was a smart and charming young man, capable of rehabilitation to a useless, no-good son, who would have been better off collecting in a condom or running down her leg."

The whole class laughed, shocked at his repetition of Ed's mother's words.

"He got his licence when he was released. And remember, this was prime time for hitchhiking in California; everyone and their mother walked the roads with a thumb in the air. It was the birth of free love and recreational marijuana usage. It was also the best hunting ground for a learning serial killer."

"He was able to pick women up, but like I said, missing his sexual prime while in an institution made him almost impotent. He didn't know how to speak to women; he had to create a fantasy in his mind every time, one that involved killing, before he could look at a woman."

"How did he get them in his car then?" A voice asked from the back.

"He was 6'9, 300lbs; he looked like a big teddy bear. And his mother was the local college administrative assistant, so the whole town knew him anyway. If Ed offered to give them a ride, it wouldn't be that bad, right?" Peggy turned around to face the class as she explained for Spencer, who just shook his head.

"He only wanted to rape the victims, originally," Spencer added. "But he couldn't. There was no release of the tension. The bubble that had been growing inside him was at its breaking point; he needed to just do it. Get it over with and move on."

"He killed 6 women in succession after that. Gaining the name "The Co-Ed Killer," well before anyone even suspected Ed Kemper," Spencer took a sip of coffee, feeling his throat start to dry as they reached the insane part.

"He was overly friendly with the cops; he wanted to get his record expunged and join the force.” Spencer finally continued. “Being told, "don't worry about your record, worry about your weight.""

"Most killers enjoy wearing a uniform for the power and talking to the police about their cases, in the hopes of gauging how smart they really are—taking pride in the fact that they are getting away with it for so long."

"He watched all the cop shows, and he read all the books. He knew that in order to get away with it, he had to do it where no one could trace it back to him. He knew he had to keep his cool and avoid looking obsessed with the case, but just curious enough to gain insight into how they thought he was doing it. It went on for years, and they had absolutely zero leads, finding headless bodies every few months before they finally received a call." He left them hanging, walking over to his sheet of paper and pretending to read it while they anticipated the catch.

"Ed always knew that he wanted to kill his mother. He just never knew when,” Spencer teased the story along. Noticing as the students fidgeted in their seats as they wondered what happened next.

“In his interview with Gideon, Ed said that he knew she would die 7 days before he killed her. He walked into her room that night to find her reading, with the audacity to ask if he wanted to come in and chat all night. Teasing him for the way he rambled to her. It was the last time she ever did that."

"It's hard to imagine his signature with the fact his second last victim was his mother," Peggy added, cringing at the thought.

"Wait," another student interjected. "Who was his last kill then if he only really wanted to kill her?"

"Remember how I said he lacked empathy?" Spencer asked. "He loved his mother in the same way a prisoner can end up loving their captor."

Peggy nods at the comparison, looking like she's never thought of it that way before, then smiling at him.

"You grow a bond through the trauma and when the only thing you've ever known is violence and hate, you don't know what to do when that's gone, it's hard to cope."

"He said he killed his mother so that she never had to know what he did. She'd never have to sit at his court hearings or be able to tell the media that she always knew he was a killer."

"His last kill was his mother's best friend," He finally answered the question.

"He didn't want his mother to be even more disappointed in him, but he also didn't want his mother's best friend to find her like that and be upset. So the obvious answer to him was to kill her too."

"What the fuck?" He heard a couple of kids say under their breath.

"Yeah," he agreed with an almost chuckle. "This is what I mean by their answers are fascinating. It makes so much sense to them; clearly, if I kill my mother, her friend will be upset, so the best answer would be to put her out of her misery as well. He sees them as objects, like a matching set. One would lose value without the other."

Everyone was silent then. The students took in all the information they had just received, staring up at him with a look of disgust mixed with wonder.

"Any questions?"

Peggy raised her hand for a change; he pointed towards her in approval. "You missed the part where he specifically took the heads from the three women before his mother and brought them back home with him. He buried them in the yard outside her bedroom window, making sure they were always looking up to her."

Spencer was amazed that she knew the details. "Yes, I guess I did."

"I always found that part particularly interesting in this case," Peggy added. "Her opinion mattered so much to him. He knew how much she loved her co-ed's and how they looked up to her so much. They'd be exactly like her. He felt trapped in a town of women who were exactly like his nightmare, and his response was to make them physically look up to her for the rest of her life."

"Exactly." Spencer smiled. "understanding how he sees the situation and how the events played out in his mind is the key in figuring out who he is."

"If you were on the case in '72 when the first victims were discovered, how would you have handled it, Dr. Reid?" A male student in the back asked in the silence between answers, taking his shot before Peggy and Spencer went any further in their discussion.

“That's a hard thing to answer, connecting evidence back then was a lot harder than it is today, if it wasn’t for men like Ed there wouldn’t really be this many answers,” Spencer said honestly.

Another student put her hand up, “what’s the worst thing he did in your opinion?”

That racked his brain, there was a handful of horrific things he did that were particularly horrific, “probably his mother's entire murder.”

“What did he do?”

Before Spencer could answer he saw Peggy open her mouth and start explaining. “He not only cut off her head and fucked her neck, but he also took her vocal cords out and shoved them down the garbage disposal. And before he called the cops, he cleaned everything up and made her look presentable because he said his mother wouldn’t want guests to see the mess.”

The class all cringed, sinking into their seats with disgust. But that didn’t stop Peggy from explaining it all further.

“He used to go to a bar all the cops went to and he would talk about his case. They would always one-up themselves and say they were close which gave him this false idea that they were on his tail and they’d find his mother soon. But when they didn’t, he called it in from a payphone and said he’d come over and explain it all. And boy did he ever, the cops said he wouldn’t shut up. And then when they put him in the cop car finally, a woman walked past him and he threw up.”

Spencer watched her with awe, the way she could call information to memory like that was beautiful. He listened to her like he’s never heard a fact before, she was so intriguing.

“Thank you for the detail,” he teased her lightly. “Sometimes I get so caught up that the really gross parts get swept aside.”

The class smiled at him, he had gained their trust and attention within only 1 hour of class.

“I know you said you don’t have a favourite,” another student asked from the back. “I agree it’s weird, but who is the one you gravitate towards the most?”

“I’ve met hundreds of serial killers, I’ve read about thousands,” he explained. “I think Ed Kemper is the one I gravitate the most around because he was so willing and open to explaining why he is the way he is. Going as far as to say that the only way they could keep women safe is to give him a lobotomy. He didn’t believe there was any correcting to be done, only removal of the evil within him.”

He heard slight mumbles as everyone took in what he said. “Does anyone here have a killer or a case that interested them in learning more, or just introduced you to the chase of justice?”

Peggy put her hand up, “I personally think BTK is the scariest, most tactical, and just downright evil man to ever exist. He scares me to no end but he’s so interesting to learn about.”

“Ahh,” Spencer agreed. “Too bad you won't be here for week 3. But with that I think I’ll end the class, next week we’ll be discussing the difference between Ted Bundy and Richard Speck.” He nodded lightly, watching the majority of them close their books and had on out.

“I really enjoyed the class,” she said softly. Holding her purse in one hand, a collection of files in the other.

Spencer turned to look at her then, smiling right back. “It was a pleasure to teach alongside you.”

“What do you mean?” She teased, “it’s not like my mom and dad were the ones who did all the interviews."

“Carr,” he repeats her last name. The gears turning in his mind as he brings all the information forth.

“Your mother is Wendy Carr, she was recruited after the BTK case with Bill Tench, she’s who was behind that study you mentioned.”

“I know,” she smiled.

“Who’s your father?”

“Guess,” she looked at him with an unimpressed look on her face, pushing her glasses up slightly.

“You’re kidding? Gideon never said he had a daughter let alone a,” he stops himself before he can embarrass himself any further.

She smiled at the implication of his words, “but he’s told me all about you Dr. Reid, that’s why I'm here.”

“You need help with a case and I’m the only agent in Virginia currently,” he pressed his lips together awkwardly. Knowing it was too good to be true that she would have any interest in him in the slightest.

“No actually, I have a case I’ve been working on privately and I need some help. I asked my dad but he said you’d be able to help me the best. I agree,” she corrected him softly. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I was a big fan of yours. When I would sit in and watch his lectures, before he knew I was his kid, you would always step in at the best parts, adding the smallest details to the story that the average person would forget. It’s magnificent.”

He laughed slightly, tugging at his collar as she complimented him. “Thank you, you’re quite magnificent as well,” he replied with a blush and a smile

She didn’t look like Gideon, probably because she smiled so much. Like sunshine on legs, she beamed, all but blinding him with her smile as she stared at him, “do you want to get lunch and go over this case with me?”

“I’d love to.”

taglist: (message me if you want to be added or removed)

@shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #intro to cm #mindhunter #wendy carr #peggy carr

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bunny-hoodlum · 3 years

Text

Asynchronous With You: Chapter 3

ship: naruhina

rating: teen (this chapter is a little ecchi, but I think it's still T)

tags: Modern Day AU, Foster Siblings, Family, Angst, Unrequited Love, Poor Communication

summary: An awkward journey full of self-denial and missed moments between two foster siblings. Perhaps their love will find the right timing someday.

She didn't know what she was expecting when Kurenai announced that another child would be joining them soon.

He showed up a little smaller than her, with wary blue eyes and uncombed blond hair. He didn't carry anything with him.

The idea of having a forever playmate intrigued her, but after a few weeks it became clear he had no interest in playing, only fighting.

During those times when she managed to get away, she laid down on her bedroom floor curled around a picture book, and thought deeply about magical forests and open meadows. Away from stupid boys and their stupid ways.

And then suddenly he wanted to get rid of Neji. He thought she wanted to be rid of Neji, too. He was going to tattle on Neji really bad and that would be that.

Who taught him that the only way to fix things was to destroy them?

She told him she didn't mind Neji bossing her around. Maybe it's like what she's heard the adults say, that all she needs is structure. Plus, he was the only blood she had. Neji was part of her old normal and she wasn't going to give that up.

She didn't think he would listen. He seemed pretty sure about what he was talking about. But then he didn't tattle after all, and yet the fights seemed even more vigorous.

She found a volume inside herself that she didn't know she had, and it had scared her into her room. Her own ears had boomed. It reminded her of all the yellings she used to receive before Kurenai, and her instincts to hide kicked in.

It wasn't Neji who came after her, but Naruto.

He felt bad about his behavior. But he wanted something in exchange. He couldn't just have nothing after this.

She wasn't sure what 'bugging her' was going to be like, but she's been wanting to get along with him since day one. All because he didn't like Neji, she thought that would never happen.

'Sure,' she told him, and the following afternoon he pinched her arm.

_______________________________

Hinata laid down curled on her bedroom floor just like she used to when she was little.

She shouldn't be here, listening to the sounds coming through the half-inch diameter hole in the wall, his guttural teenage lust spilling over into her sanctum, the exaggerated moans of the other girl stabbing her heart.

He thinks she isn't home right now.

She wants to keep it that way.

Because no matter what he means to her, no matter how much she wants him, it can never happen.

She closes her eyes and pictures herself in the other girl's place. Girl no. 49 she calls her.

She doesn't have the courage to watch, but some twisted part of her wants the torture.

She wants to see a part of Naruto that she'll never have.

_______________________________

After the first girl, some drama had started up at school for Naruto.

She had seen Hinata's shoes in the genkan when she left, but had no idea who they belonged to.

She accused Naruto of sneaking away to invite a different girl to come over.

Now half of the female student body hated him, while the other half wanted to get some for themselves.

Hinata was disappointed to find that he relished in his new reputation as a player, that he would take whatever infamy he got if it gave him what he wanted in this world.

Some timid part of her that remained said, Good for him. After all, he deserved to be happy and enjoy his life.

And yet some shadowy part of her felt she was as good a stranger to him than a sister, seeing as how there could be no room for her as either a sister, a friend or love interest.

She thought to both test him and sabotage him after the fourth girl. Two terribly petty things she thought she would never do.

He knows when she leaves something of hers in his room, it means she wants him to come over.

So she left a pair of panties atop his bed in hopes Girl no. 5 would realize his promiscuity and go home.

It didn't work. Instead it excited Girl no. 5. Her expectations of his skill has risen with the proof that he had a revolving door of hot girls coming in and out of here and they went at it louder and rougher than the first four.

Hinata made sure to disappear before they found out she'd been home. When the coast seemed clear and Hinata feigned nonchalance as she came home, with a weak 'Tadaima' to the only other person home, she did not get the usual greeting.

She crept towards her bedroom, somehow not expecting Naruto to answer her invitation.

He sat at her low table in the middle of her room, the pair she had left behind now sitting atop her comforter.

He couldn't look her in the eyes.

He didn't seem mad, rather dumbfounded.

What a thing to give him when wanting to chat, is probably what was going through his head. Like, maybe she had an ulterior motive she was trying to express to him.

Well, she did, perhaps. This wasn't her ideal way to flirt with him, nor was it how she'd choose to shoot her shot.

She doubted her panties excited him, in the first place.

With a soft sigh, Hinata nodded to herself. She crossed her room without a word, hanging her school bag on the back of her desk chair. Then she approached her bed and picked up her underwear, telling him "Thank you for finding them," before placing them back inside her underwear drawer.

She was rooted to that spot, her hands gripping the trim of her double dresser.

From the corner of her eye, she could see him scratch at his cheek, the way he does when a reply feels too weird to say.

He stood up, and just before reaching the door he mumbled, "Just don't lose them again, okay?"

The door closed behind him, and Hinata's shoulders lowered along the length of her exhale, her stress leaving her like dropping water levels.

Then on a Sunday, when Hinata was invited to a dessert buffet with Sakura and Ino, she found out her favorite linen top with the frilly button trim had shrunk in the dryer.

While uncomfortably snug, she could still button every one but the two across her chest.

Ino loved keyhole cuts, but this would not pass social decency.

She tugged and tugged but still the buttons wouldn't reach their homes. Her eyes burned as a flurry of despair hit her in quick succession.

She was getting older. She was growing up. She was getting bigger. Like, inelegantly bigger. She loved this top. She didn't want to say goodbye to it. She didn't want to say goodbye to a lot of things.

Like choosing where to go for High School.

Something possessed her to walk out of her room and find him. She would play up her little sister role in utter defiance.

"Hinata?" Naruto shot up from the sofa and ran to her side.

"Did you dry my clothes?" More accusation than question, her voice was keened wetly with every consonant. "I can't wear this anymore."

Naruto stood there, sputtering, hands uselessly gesticulating at her ample cleavage.

She's never seen his face so red.

Did he look like this when he was thrusting into his rotation of harem girls?

"U-Uh, maybe it's still okay?" He reached out and gripped the fabric of her shirt, his rough fingers ghosting across her skin. A tingle ran up her spine. His eyes became wild for a second. As if to cover up his embarrassment, he became even more determined to prove he didn't ruin her clothes, but doing so made it worse for the both of them.

The forceful tugging made her breasts bounce in a way he was all too familiar with, but none had ever been as big as hers.

As if catching his dirty thoughts, Naruto released her and ran out of the living room, shouting spastically "I'msorryI'llreplaceit!"

Hinata had placed a hand over her exposed skin, right where he had touched her, and she couldn't fight down a smile, however pained and wistful.

This was probably all she was ever going to get.

She decided to play up the risks today, and forwent a bra, using a velvet cropped jacket to hide her nipples.

She received a lot of compliments that Sunday.

Things like this had happened between her and the object of her adoration and frustration, but nothing ever really changed.

He still brought girls over when he thought she wasn't home.

And she still snuck in to try and be a part of it, to learn more about him, to indulge is some form of masochism she didn't know she had.

It wasn't good for her heart.

And when she and Naruto decided individually that they'd stay with everyone else and go to Konoha Normal High, Hinata decided it was time to get serious about her life.

Her renewed late night phone calls with Neji gave her back her structure.

She started her own club. Called it the Volunteers Association. Basically all they did every Sunday was clean up trash in a pre-chosen location from the crack of dawn until lunch time. Beautifying their hometown was a lesson in gratitude and pride.

She also joined the Public Morals Committee, because it would look good on her resume, not because she’d developed an interest in policing others. It also helped her overcome her fear response to raised voices.

But when she did police others, she learned more and more about other people in a way she never thought she would.

For example, the majority of the porn magazines they confiscated were of G-cup models, with M-cup and C-cup ranking in second and A-cup ranking in last. This told her the preferences of the male student body. How important that information was to her? Well, it kind of helped know which boys to be leery of. She had grown to be a little more realistic about herself: She had curves.

Another example was how many students came to school in a hurry and for what reasons. Most of it was due to oversleeping, which were the result of late-night gaming (like someone else she knows), or excessive studying, or part-time jobs. Few others showed up looking like they had taken a detour to the baseball supply closet to fool around (also like the same someone else she knows).

Running in the halls ensued due to prankish behavior.

Failure to advertise for upcoming club events due to limp commitment or a loss of interest.

When the time came for bag checks, where a teacher would confiscate candy and make-up, that’s where Hinata drew the line. She knew her classmates needed sugar to make it through the day. She advised the pretty girls, the gyaru, even the ones she knew had been in Naruto’s bed, that they could still cheat the system if they were clear lip gloss and neutral colors. That really turned their impression of her around on its head.

To sum it up, everyone was going with the flow, chasing one promise of excitement after another, the future too intangible for them to grasp. Their Springtime of Youth was not over.

The amount of blank career sheets cemented her point.

_______________________________

Hinata collapsed onto a bench as the physical and mental exertion caught up to her.

The school was bustling with a multitude of craft projects as they prepared for their annual School Festival.

As a committee member and Volunteer Associate, she was running herself ragged from classroom to classroom, club to club, helping to ensure that everyone's efforts were going smoothly.

A smooth chill touched her cheek. She opened her eyes. Ino held out a cold water bottle against her heated skin, and Hinata smiled.

"Thank you," Hinata accepted the bottle and held it to her neck. Ino sat down next to her. A series of violent thumps met their ears as an irritated Kiba chased down a gloating Naruto, with Kiba's club materials in his hands. Hinata's voice cracked once she opened her mouth, but Ino's voice rang out in her stead.

"NO RUNNING IN THE HALLS!"

Hinata thanked her again as she sank against the wall and relished in the soothing sensation of her water bottle. She didn't realize she had overworked her voice already, too.

"That one's going nowhere," Ino tsked quietly.

"Who?"

"Naruto-baka. He thinks he can live this way forever. Life'll stop being so funny when he's working behind a convenience store register."

"Cashiers serve an important purpose."

"So you agree he's going to end up a cashier," Ino smirked with a wink.

Hinata opened her mouth to complain, but her will instantly deflated inside of her. Ino laughed at the sequence of emotions that played out across Hinata's face, and the latter simply resumed being exhausted human jello that needed more time to restore her shape.

"A cashier baby daddy with five children, each from a different mom," Ino added.

Hinata tried to blink away the haze steadily overtaking her. "No."

Her chest twisted at the thought.

If that really came to pass, he would take responsibility. He would never leave his own children behind, even if he had to go it alone.

Hinata pressed her free palm against her eyes, her lips trembled even as they tightly pressed into a thin line.

"Hinata?" Came Ino's panicked voice.

"It's just a headache," she lied.

"When was the last time you ate?" Ino barely waited for a response. "I'll go grab some food from the cafeteria and be right back with pain relievers. Just stay right there. And no more shouting. You're done for the day!"

Ino ran off to complete her mission and Hinata couldn't be sure if she was grateful for her absence or even more afraid of it.

Just thinking about Naruto...

She doesn't understand how she still feels about him.

His entire existence hurts her, and she can't name all the ways that he does.

She wants to go back to work.

_______________________________

Hinata never thought her world could turn upside a third time. She never thought her structures could be kicked out from under her.

But then on the opening day of the School Festival, when the school gates are only open for family members, an elementary-aged girl with long, dark brown hair and sharp, lavender eyes came along by herself. A single strand dangled between those discerning eyes as they swept around her surroundings.

Hinata was managing the line outside the maid café, greeting customers in a lilac outfit, when the girl showed up.

Their eyes met.

Hers widened. With surprise. With recognition. With curiosity.

Hinata's eyes were only horrified.

The little girl bounced up to meet her.

Hinata's heart hammered in her ears, it swell to the point of choking. Her vision doubled and smeared. She tried to catch her breath, but nothing, nothing was going in. She tried to breathe faster. They call this air hunger. Her body was cold, prickly.

No. She didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to know.

The little girl eyed her from head to toe, then smirked.

"You really do like mom. But you're a little chubbier than I expected."

AN: Apologies if the third scene's timeline is written in an unclear way. It's supposed to be stuff that happened in sequence prior to the second scene.

Hm! I totally forgot how good it feels to write fanfiction. I literally had a head high the whole time. 😂

I hope you like this chapter! And let me know if I'm doing better at hooks and/or cliffhangers! I haven't looked at any of my activity since the last chapter, so I'm going to respond now if there is anything to respond to, that is.

#naruhina #naruhina fanfiction #modern au #foster sibling au #asynchronous with you fanfiction #chapter 3

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joontier · 3 years

Text

Subliminal in Scrubs | V1; report iv

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, romance

warnings: swearing

word count: 2.5k

g/n: Send me your thoughts?

[taglist] @nottodayjjk @ditttiii @zeharilisharaban @btsbunny07 @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @aamxxrii @codeinebelle

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) | navi. | m.list

Your phone blares at exactly 6:45AM, and a memetastic image of Chohee lights up your phone screen as you’re brushing your teeth. When you swipe to answer the call, you don’t even manage to get a word in when Chohee chatters you out of your sleep-deprived soul.

“Just as practiced, I’m punctual, and you’re late.”

Garbling out a reply about how it’s still five minutes prior to your agreed time, you tap your toothbrush loudly against the sink, likewise spitting out the foam from your mouth. “Fine, just hurry because I’m starving!”

Being the gold-hearted person that she is (although that fact is not known to the public), your best friend had offered you a ride to the building where you’re scheduled to take the Korean Medical Licensure Examination today.

The moment you settle yourself on the passenger seat, she greets you with a cheery “Good morning!” - one that was too cheery this early in the morning, and all the more way too cheery for a certain Kim Chohee. The two of you share a look and you lean in for a hug. “Hey, we’ll do just fine, okay? We’ve been studying our asses for this.”

You don’t let go at once, looking up at her with a kissy face. She pushes your head backwards with a disgusted expression, keeping your face at an arm’s length. With an unattractive snort, you lean back in your seat, laughing your ass off at your poor attempt to lighten the mood.

“Seriously, _______, I know you’ve been lusting after me for years even when you’re well aware of my ‘strictly beef’ diet,” Chohee states, dusting your imaginary germs off her shoulder. Turning on her Benz’s engine, she checks her reflection on the rear-view mirror before driving off.

With both your hands occupied with the sandwiches you’d ordered from Subway, you use your pinky to connect your phone to play some Mozart via bluetooth. You try not to talk much about the test, knowing it will only cause unnecessary anxiety on both your ends.

As Chohee leans towards you, you tilt her sandwich in her direction, letting her take a bite from her sub. “Hey, what’s an abscess again?”

“Isn’t that more commonly known as boils? Built up pus within or below the surface of the skin?”

Kim Chohee chokes on her BLT.

“Pus?” she repeats, swallowing her bite with great strain. “Seriously? While I’m eating a sandwich? Couldn’t you be more subtle perhaps?”

Equally just as surprised as she was, you narrow your eyes at her. “We’ve been studying medicine for the last six years! It shouldn’t be a surprise by now...and besides, we’ve heard and see a lot worse too...Would you rather have me say purulent exudate then? And waste my precious saliva on a six-syllable word rather than the common term for a liquid form of inflamm-”

“Okay!” Chohee throws an arm up in defeat. “Sheesh _______! Don’t I deserve at least some gratitude for driving you to our exams?”

“Plus we’ve already seen a cadaver too, which was supposedly one of the peaks of our med-student lives! What’s all this hype about some viscous mass on the surface of the skin?”

Your best friend peeks at you from her peripheral vision, absolutely mortified. You love it.

“Can you please remind me how we became friends in the first place?” Chohee shakes her head and increases the volume of the player as the droplets of rain start pouring down the windshield. “Anyways – I was meaning to ask the histological meaning of it.”

“Oh, right,” you nod, recalling your notes, “well, it’s a localized collection of neutrophils and necrotic debris. Basically, it’s a suppurative inflammation which is associated with pyogenic bacteria and characterized by edema fluid admixed with neutrophils and necrotic cells. Staphylococcus aureus usually produces abscesses because it��s coagulase positive and coagulase helps the production of fibrinous material that localizes the infection.”

As soon as you finish, silence takes over the car, and suddenly, a sniffle comes from Chohee’s side. With a matching frown, you best friend looks at you with shiny eyes. “Oh _______, what would I do without you?”

With still half an hour to spare, you decide on relieving your bladder first before all the toilets get occupied later a couple of minutes before the actual exam. You take your time with it, even managing to put some effort in fixing your hair in clipping your fringe back so as not to eliminate all distractions possible during the exam.

While looking through the large panel windows on your way back from the comfort rooms, you spot a familiar face – the last person you’d want to see on such an important day. Perhaps your prayers weren’t loud enough to actually reach heaven.

There Jeon Jungkook was at the end of the hall, walking like a newly-canonized saint in all his glory. Most (if not all) of the female onlookers stare at him as he passes by, with Jungkook seemingly unbothered by their unwavering attention. You aren’t one for exaggeration, but these women look like they’re willing to worship the ground he walked on.

Your nerdy, anti-Jeon Jungkook ass quickly hides beside a nearby locker, not wanting to be ‘graced’ by his presence, just as some girl coined a few moments ago as she headed to the toilets with her friends, collectively gushing over the boy.

The popular kid turns to his right and you swore you’d never prayed harder and faster than any other time in your life. Your room assignment was just the one by the corner...and if he could just make a few more steps and head straight to the next classroom a-and...nope. It’s official. The universe loved shitting on you.

Jungkook enters room 132, the very same numbers indicating your room assignment for the licensure exam. You ball up your fists in your spot by the lockers, releasing all your pent-up frustration in the simplest and least violent way possible: a long, tedious exhale.

Gathering up all your self-control, you re-enter the classroom with an inward grimace, desperate to not have Jungkook’s eyes meet yours. He’s looking for a seat, and with all the back rows already occupied, he’s stuck with picking one from the first two rows.

He’s already stood near the seat you’ve picked and you bore holes into the back of his head with your fake telepathy, silently ordering him to pick a chair on the other side of the aisle instead.

Just as you had not wished for, Jungkook plops his huge ass backpack on the chair next to yours. You tread back to your seat as discreetly as possible, avoiding his gaze at all times as he rummages through his military backpack. What the fuck is in that thing in the first place? You won't be surprised if he manages to pull out a whole microwave inside – and yet funnily enough, he can’t seem to own a single damn pencil.

As you were minding your own businesses (hopefully it stays that way for the rest of eternity), you catch the other students discussing surgical cases last minute.

“Hey, which artery is the one for transection for an epidural hematoma?”

“Was this the kid that got hit by a fastball in the head?”

“What happened?”

“Poor boy got hit in the temporal area during a baseball tournament. Remained conscious during the rest of the day but during the same evening he gets a severe headache with vomiting and confusion. When they got to Severance he got scheduled for immediate surgery for epidural hematoma.”

“That sounds awful…”

“I’m not sure which artery it was again though…”

If that were the case...then it’d be the transection of a branch of the middle meningeal artery...but then you wouldn’t want to answer that out of the blue and get mistaken for being too snoopy…

Instead, you reach for the bottle of water by the legs of your chair, likewise hearing the same answer coming out of Jungkook’s mouth in a whisper. Huh. You raise a brow. Well, there was a major chance he knew the case since he came from Yonsei too, just as you had speculated from some of your roommates who seemed like they came from the same school after mentioning Severance Hospital.

The group continue discussing their answers when this girl, who had an obnoxiously unnatural high-pitched voice, approaches Jungkook.

“Jungkook-oppa?”

Oppa? OPPA?!

You wanted to throw up. This girl looked at least two-three years older than him. At the least. Guess Jeon was really more of a fuckboy than Chohee would ever admit. “We were just discussing something and we’re really unsure of our answers, maybe a smart oppa like you would know?”

With as much discretion as you could muster, you adjust in your seat, leaning a little bit towards their conversation as you eavesdrop like the nosy person that you are.

“The surgery was a transection of the meningeal artery,” says Jeon nonchalantly like it’s the most basic thing in the world, still scrolling through his phone. Silence ensues after that. That’s it?! He’s not even going to bother explaining-

Jungkook exhales as he puts his phone down. “Epidural hemorrhages result from a rupture of one of the meningeal arteries, as these arteries supply the dura and run between the dura and the skull. Plus you said temporal area right?” he asks, facing one of the guys.

“The artery involved is usually the middle meningeal artery - a branch of the maxillary artery, as the skull fracture is usually in the temporal area. Since the bleeding is of arterial origin, symptoms are rapid in onset even though he seemed normal for a few hours. If they didn’t bring him to the hospital that same evening, he could’ve had tentorial herniation and would have eventually died.”

As much as you hate to admit it - you’re beyond impressed. Chohee always stays true to her word, but it doesn’t change the fact that he was still a jerk for clearly cutting the line at the subway.

The girls coo over him, praising him over how cool he looked by explaining his answer. Jungkook settles back on his seat like he hadn’t just perfectly given an on-point pathological explanation for a neuro case.

The group continues their review, until they’ve come to another question they’re unsure of. “Jungkook-ssi, would you know where the rupture of a berry aneurysm of the Circle of Willis would likely produce hemorrhage?”

With only ten minutes left, you’d usually be preparing yourself mentally but this group and Jungkook’s intervention has you all ears once more. Nothing wrong with some last minute review, right?

“It’s the subdural space.”

Wow. Okay, quick and close but wrong. Impressive wit though.

You open your mouth to say something but you hesitate as it dawns on you that you really aren’t part of this group and you’re not the one being asked. Jungkook not missing a beat gets a collective ‘ooh’ from the group, who’s clearly impressed at how quickly he’s answered the question.

Meanwhile, your conscience is making you contemplate on your earlier hesitation with the voice of the angel on your right shoulder telling you it isn’t right to let the wrong answer pass just like that, especially on a day like this. The devil on your left, however, tells you otherwise. You go with the former.

Amongst their murmurs of mutual praise for Jungkook (you bet this man is rejoicing inside with all the attention he’s getting, despite looking nonchalant), you take a deep breath and say the correct answer, voice coming out louder than expected.

“Excuse me?” another ‘spectator’ says, jutting her chin towards you.

“I said,” you look up at her, “it’s actually the subarachnoid space.”

“Are you sure?” she retorts.

Seriously? Just because you’re not some fuckboy jock who smolders at all boobed humans means you can’t be sure with your answer?

“Hey! I know you!” Someone exclaims from the side, causing everyone to turn their heads toward him, “You’re the foreigner valedictorian at SNU!” Similar to their earlier praises directed towards Jungkook, the same dudes marvel at your most recent accomplishment. You give a shy smile in return, quietly thanking the stranger for the sudden confidence boost.

“Jungkook-oppa is also the valedictorian at Yonsei.”

Well, that didn’t last for long...somebody has always got to rain on your parade. You won’t allow this girl though, not today.

You purse your lips, collecting your thoughts first before explaining it to them. “Subarachnoid hemorrhages, although they are much less common than hypertensive intracerebral hemorrhages, but the former are...more often than not...resultant of a rupture of a berry aneurysm.” You pause momentarily when someone drags his seat closer to yours, “Go on please.”

“Right, um...berry aneurysms are most commonly found at the Circle of Willis, usually by the junction of the communicating artery and the cerebral artery. Chances of rupture increase with age and cause marked bleeding into the subarachnoid space and produces severe headaches.” The same dude earlier blinks at you, urging you to explain further, “uh...additional symptoms may include vomiting, pain, stiffness of the neck, and papilledema. Death may follow rapidly as well.”

A few from the people gathered around your seat clap their hands, along with compliments and offers along the lines of marriage and organ swaps.

Someone mentions seeing the proctor approach the room and the group immediately disperses, everyone rushing back to their seats as quickly as possible. A middle-aged man enters, tells everyone to bring out their pencils and place their stuff by the platform, then momentarily leaves for the restroom.

Jungkook fishes through his bag, turning each pocket inside and out over and over again. There’s no way this kid actually-- “Shit, where did that pencil go?” he murmurs, going through his bag once more. Looking away, you bite your lip to stop yourself from snickering. Jeon Jungkook is definitely on a different level.

As expected, your entertaining seatmate calls you and asks for a pencil. With a deceivingly enthusiastic nod, you retrieve a pencil from your case just beside your chair. Your life after meeting Jungkook at the subway had finally led to this moment. He clears his throat and you figure it’s signaling the coming of another obnoxious comment.

“Oh, I’m sorry, this wasn’t meant for you,” you look at him with the most apologetic look you can muster. Then you look at him, down then up, just as he had done back in the library, you smile widely before winking at him, making him hand your extra pencil over to the guy sat next to him, “Thanks, babe.”

Jungkook scowls hard and you rejoice inside your head, making sure that your face doesn’t register the slightest bit of jest. His scowl however, does not last for long. “Hmm, you’re the girl from the library, right? Smart and feisty...maybe you are my type after all,” he murmurs, tongue poking his cheek. You scoff loudly, scrunching your face in disgust. “No thank you.”

“Oppa,” the girl’s shrill voice calls him one more time and you face forward to freely roll your eyes. If you aren’t mistaken, there’s even a hint of mild annoyance on Jungkook’s features. “Don’t mind her, oppa. You can have my extra pencil instead.” She tsks. “Some people just don’t know when to quit.”

At least she got something right this morning: you don’t know when to quit.

#jungkook x reader #bangtanhq #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #btsghostie #bts au #bts fic #jungkook au #jungkook imagine #doctors au #bts series #jeon jungkook

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hockeyboysiguess · 4 years

Text

dear winter | c. parakyo

a/n: this one was entirely inspired by and written to dear winter by ajr. highly recommend listening to this while you read. this is your reminder that vince dunn isn’t the only player on the blues. enjoy!

warnings: a little swearing. otherwise, alllllll fluff.

word count: 6K

You sighed as you felt a firm kick to your bladder. You had to give it to her, your baby had great aim, something she’s definitely inherited from her dad since you couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a baseball even if you were being coached through each movement. You rubbed your growing bump softly, a vain attempt to get her to relax, before you grabbed the full file box. Colton would be upset if he knew you were moving boxes without him. You loved Colton, god, did you ever love your husband, but he was treating you like you were going to break any second. He had as soon as you’d told him you were pregnant. You tried to fight him on it, but if Colton wanted something to go a specific way, there was pretty much nothing you could physically do about it. He was a physical immovable force. You settled for doing things when he wasn’t home.

You huffed out a loud breath as you sat down on the couch with what would be your fourth box of the day. You had been trying to go through everything in the room that was going to become “Little P’s” nursery, as Colton called her. You were also using it as an excuse to actually clean out your catch-all spare bedroom instead of just moving the problem of having too much stuff from the bedroom to the attic.

You sucked in a deep breath before blowing off the layer of dust from the top of the box. You lifted the lid and sighed. It was absolutely packed with papers and notebooks, Colton’s notebooks. He religiously kept notebooks, not a diary, not a journal. He rolled his eyes whenever you called them that, telling you that they weren’t diaries or journals because he wrote anything in them, from grocery lists, to hockey plays he thought of, gift ideas for you, anything. He also refused to get rid of a single one, much to your chagrin, but the least you could do was label them with the dates they contained to organize them. Thank god you’d pulled the label maker out for the last box so you didn’t have to get up. Getting up wasn’t your specialty anymore, thanks to Little P being a little less little since her father was a large human being.

You cracked open the first notebook after shaking off more dust, flipping to the first page to grab the date and the last page for the final one. Colton’s notebooks had never been any of your business. You thought he had every right to his private thoughts, something that had absolutely floored him when you started dating. Every other girl had tried to read over his shoulders, sneak a peak when he wasn’t around, but you trusted Colton, which is what you’d told him then and still told him now every time he picked up another notebook. The next notebook opened with a silly drawing, it made you giggle, but you didn’t pry further, simply adding your label and moving on to the next one.

Your brows furrowed when you came to a notebook toward the bottom. Unlike the rest, which were heavily worn in, the pages wrinkled and fanning out, making them appear thicker, this one was only partially started. The wear stopped about three-quarters of the way through it. You found it odd. Colton always finished everything he started, even if it was virtually impossible for him to do so. He was the least wasteful person you’d ever met. You shook off your thoughts. His notebooks were his business, not yours.

Still, regardless of you trying otherwise, your eyes flitted to the first entry in this notebook. The start of it pulled your eyes in unwillingly. It was a letter, a letter to someone else. Your heart sank and you slammed the notebook shut. No, you thought. Colton would never, but then who was he writing to? Your heart was aching in your chest. You trusted and loved your husband more than you ever thought possible for yourself, but your mind was running through possibilities and you needed to know. When your eyed scanned the first words, the tears started to slip out even though you willed them not to.

Dear Winter, I hope you like your name I hope they don't make fun of you When you grow up and go to school, okay? 'Cause Winter is a badass name

Colton’s words continued and your tears kept flowing.

Sorry if you don’t love it, baby girl, but I do and unfortunately for you, one me and one other person get to vote on it and I’m all in for it. Also, I’m not really sure where I got the idea to start this, but I’m two sentences in and I hope one day you think this is as cool as I do right now.

Anyway, I wanted to start by telling you what made me think of your name. I was walking through Forest Park (I’m playing for the Blues right now, in case that ever changes, so I’m in St. Louis) because I was having a pretty terrible day. I botched something at practice, couldn’t get the play right, and coach got angry at me. You probably know I don’t handle people being angry with me well because I doubt that’s ever going to go away. I found out the woman I was seeing actually cheated on me (I know, weird to read from me, but I hope you stick through this one) and I’m missing my family a lot today. (Side note: please come home more, Winter. I love you.)

So I was having a terrible day and decided to take a walk. It was chilly, but sort of comforting. It smelled like it was about to snow. I really hope you know that smell too, sort of like Christmas Eve, my favorite day of the year, as I also assume you know. Then, it started to snow. It was that beautiful, promising fluffy snow that makes me think of hot chocolate and peppermint and family. That’s when I really thought about you for the first time, Winter. I thought about us outside in our front yard, your mom on the front steps, and you catching snowflakes on your tongue. I thought about how you’d ask me to build a snowman with you, even though the snow wasn’t even sticking to the ground. I thought about you, Win. Winter. Some people hate winter. Some people love it. That’s also why it’s your name, Win. You might not be everyone’s cup of tea, Winnie, but that’s okay. You’re not meant to be for everyone. You’re meant to be exactly who are you as you’re reading this.

I'm hoping that some day, I can meet you on this Earth But shit, I gotta meet your mom first

Love, Dad :)

You placed your hand gingerly on your swollen stomach as the tears flowed freely. Colton wrote the first letter in the notebook seven and a half years before today. He’d been writing to her, the little girl still growing in your belly, for years, before you’d even moved to St. Louis let alone met Colton for the first time. Of course Winter would take that moment to kick you in the stomach. Winter. You loved her name too. You’d been racking your brain all day since you’d found out that Little P was a girl, not the boy you were convinced you were having based on your apparently flawed mother’s intuition, so when you found out Little P was a girl, you’d be wracking your brain all day for both a way to tell Colton and what you might name her. Somehow, even though he didn’t know yet, Colton had already taken care of another worry of yours, a man who didn’t know how to love you wrong.

You couldn’t stop yourself from turning to the next page to read the next entry. Unlike his notebook he used every day, the next entry picked up a few weeks later.

Dear Winter, I hope you talk to girls Or boys or anyone you like

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve written to you, but I heard something out a bar that made me come home and immediately grab this notebook. Sorry if this is a little unclear. Dad’s just a little drunk right now, but I want you to know how important this is and I wanted to tell you as soon as possible.

This guy at the bar was being... absolutely awful, Win. This girl was just trying to have a good time with her friends. She was wearing a pin on her jacket with the pride flag on it. This guy started asking her about it. She shrugged, said she was bi, and she moved on. Except he didn’t move on. I heard him talking to his friends, talking terribly about her. He was talking about her sexuality and what it could do for him, how good it would be for him that she was bi. It didn’t sit with me right, so I warned her what he said and she said something that stuck with me so I wanted to tell it to you. She said, “God, thank you for telling me. I’m so fucking tired of guys sexualizing my sexuality for their own sexual gratification. It has nothing to do with them, you know? It’s my sexuality. It’s for me and me alone. I thought it got through all of the bad stuff when my parents kicked me out for it. It just keeps on coming, you know? Fucking sucks.”

Winnie, whoever you like, boys, girls, both, neither, people who don’t identify any particular way, if you know deep down you’re not my little girl, but you’re my son, I’m always, always, always, always going to love you. I will always be in your corner, Win. My love for you will never change. My support for you with never waiver. I will stand with you a pride parades. I will advocate for you. I will do anything I can to make sure you know you are loved and supported and that you can always come to me. I will always protect you, Winter. I will always love you.

If you’re reading this and you haven’t come out yet, the door is open, Win. And I’m standing right there, arms wide open, ready to love the truest version of you, the version of you that makes you feel like your most authentic, happy self. Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready.

Love, Dad

You felt your heart pound hard in your chest. Colton had never wavered on loving whoever your baby was going to be, but this, this was something special. You took a deep breath and looked down at your bump again.

“He loves you so much,” you told her softly as you gently rubbed your bump. “You have the best dad in the entire world. I just hope my genes don’t screw you up too much.”

You flipped to the next entry, laughing to yourself at how it was filled with entirely with car buying advice. Apparently, Colton has just bought a car the day he wrote it and he was keen on sharing his newfound wisdom with Winter. He also talked about how he was going to help Winter buy her first car and exactly what that would entail. It was such dad advice, but somehow it was perfect and it was Colton.

You kept reading, an entry an unknown amount of dates deep, caught your eye. You weren’t sure how deep into this you really were. You were flying through entries, Colton’s loving words pulling you through each page at a lightening pace. This one caught you eye though.

It really doesn't seem like there's anyone for me But dear Winter, I hope you like your name You know I cannot wait to teach you how to curse But shit, I gotta meet your mom first

You think your mom is going to like that I’m cursing in these letters? Probably not. But hopefully she’ll deal. I mean, I play hockey. Cursing is part of the game basically. I hope I teach you well. :)

You know, Win, I saw a couple out at a restaurant today and they were so in love. I, on the other hand, got stood up on a date today. Super fun, right? And super weird to hear from your dad, but it’s the truth. As smooth as I’ve tried to make myself look your whole life, Dad’s not really all that fucking smooth, Winnie.

But anyway, I wanted to tell you that it doesn’t matter if you ever find someone, Win. I wanted to tell you this because I need to hear it right now and even if when you first read this, you don’t need to hear it, I’m betting at some point in your life you will need it. You can achieve every single dream you have without a partner. You can have the life you want. You can have a family. You can make a beautiful life for yourself all on your own. Because you aren’t looking for your other half. You’re a goddamn full, beautiful, powerful person all by yourself. You are complete just as you are and that’s fucking amazing, Winnie.

Am I writing this for you in the future or me now? That’s debatable, but someday you’re going to need a reminder that you are a galaxy of beautiful, stunning possibilities. You are the sun, moon, stars, planets, and everything in between. A galaxy doesn’t need anyone or anything else. Always remember that anyone you let into your life should be in wonder at the galaxy that is you.

Sorry, Dad’s going to get off his weird soapbox now and go to bed. I’ll write you soon. Pinky promise :)

Love always, Dad

You gripped the notebook tightly in your hands, careful not to wrinkle the pages. You briefly thought about how you’d never read one of his notebooks before so maybe pregnancy hormones weren’t the best time to start, but this notebook was for someone. It was for the baby in your belly, so you kept reading.

Dear Winter,

I met someone today. I don’t want to say too much, in case it doesn’t work out. It never really works out for me, does it, Winnie? I hope a) that your mom has much better luck with men than I do with women and b) that you inherit her luck. At least I got her phone number, right? Maybe I can figure out how to sounds less like a guy that really like writing in notebooks and puzzles and more like a guy who is all about parties and adventure?

Actually, no, Win. No. Don’t listen to that. Be whoever you want to be, whatever that looks like. If some guy doesn’t like you because you’re a homebody, reject him and toss him out in the street. He’s clearly no good. Be whoever you want to be, Win. A homebody, a busy body, whoever that is, I’ve got your back for the rest of my life.

(Side note: this girl is super, super pretty and she’s wicked smart with an incredible sense of humor. Kind of hoping this one works out? If not, then I guess on to the next one, right? If not, I’ve got to meet your mom one day, Win. We’ll see when it happens, I guess.)

Love, Dad

Your eyes scanned back up the page to the date. You breath hitched it your throat when you saw it and your hand came over your mouth as your eyes started to fill with tears again. It was about you. That was the day you met Colton for the first time. That memory was burned into your brain forever because it was honestly one of the worst days of your life, until Colton walked in.

You were about to give up. Four cups of coffee at varying degrees of strength had done nothing to stimulate an idea in your brain. Well, it would have been five cups of coffee if you hadn’t spilled the third cup down yourself and stained your favorite sweatshirt that was now a crumpled mess in your backpack. Despite that, you were still face to face with a blank Word document that needed to be six pages long by midnight tonight, which was less than twelve hours away. Procrastination always got the better of you. Today was no exception.

You had opened your day with a trip to the dentist and of course, you had a cavity. You didn’t realize until you got back to your car that your house key wasn’t on your key ring, so you couldn’t go home and your roommate was going to be out all day, so you’d had to post up in your fourth favorite local coffee shop as shops one through three were completely packed. You’d had to park six blocks over because you couldn’t find a spot. All of this chaos had wasted almost two hours you were supposed to be working. Then there was the spilled coffee, which you spilled because your terrible ex-boyfriend had shown up and tried to talk to you. In an effect to escape, the coffee had gotten spilled. To boot, after actually drank coffee number three, your mom had called you and told you your childhood dog had cancer. It was just one of those days. She was fifteen, so you couldn’t say she didn’t live a good, long life. Still, it was a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day.

Your music was blaring in your eyes. You were rapidly flipping through Spotify trying to find something that might provide some inspiration. You sighed and rested against the back of the chair as your head fell back. You let out a long sigh and carded your fingers through your hair. Ideas or not, you needed to get started. That went out the window when you saw a large man standing next to your table when you lifted your head. He gave you a sweet smile and a small wave. Your eyes rolled up and down him quickly. He was massive, broader and taller than most people you knew. His size could make him intimidating, but there was something cautious and nervous about the way he moved. One of his large hands was shifting around his iced coffee. The other was fidgeting in his pocket. His smile was kind and inviting. His shoulder were low, hunkering down as if to try and look smaller than he was. It was his eyes that took your breath away for a second, a pair of beautiful baby blues framed by dark glasses.

You yanked one of your headphones out of your ears and raised your eyebrows at him.

“Hi,” he said softly. “Um, all the other tables are full. Do you mind if it sit? I’ve got an appointment in half an hour, so I won’t be in your hair for too long.”

You almost stuttered, but pulled yourself together in time to say, “Oh, yeah, sure.”

He thanked you with a sweeter, wider smile as he dropped down into the chair opposite you. He dwarfed it, and the small table you had stationed yourself at. He was just slightly too big for everything around him, but he didn’t seem to mind much.

“I’m Colton, by the way,” he told you as he opened up a book you hadn’t realized he’d been carrying.

You told him your name softly before you tried to get back to work. Every minute you had was precious at this point to meeting your deadline. Beautiful man or not, you had to get this done. Except he seemed to have other ideas.

“What are you working on?” he asked you after a few minutes. You’d caught him eyeing you as you finally got some sort of an idea, so your fingers were blazing across your keyboard.

“Oh, just this project for work,” you answered flatly, not even looking up from your screen or pausing your furious typing to answer. “I got into this fight with my boss about it because I think her premise is wrong, so I’ve been having some issues trying to write this condensed summary of her position considering I disagree with it. But, hey, a job’s a job, right? At least I’m employed enough to keep my cat fed, the hungry bastard, and support my own coffee habits without a sugar daddy.”

Colton laughed and like your life had sudden become a movie, the sound took your breath away. You couldn’t stop a smile from pulling up the corners of your lips as he laughed. His laugh sort of made you forget how embarrassing what you’d just said was.

“Is he fat?” Colton asked before quickly adding. “Your hungry cat, is he a fat bastard as well as a hungry one?”

“The fattest bastard of them all,” you laughed as grabbed your phone from next to your laptop to show him a photo.

Colton whistled when he saw the photo and nodded softly.

“Put a ribbon on him and you could enter him as a prized heifer in the county fair,” Colton joked, making you smile widely, your first genuinely thrilled smile all day.

“I got him fat from the shelter,” you tried to explain. “I’m trying to put him on a diet, but he’s just not having it. Honestly can’t blame him. Diets are dumb. But the fatso won’t exercise. I got him one of those cat wheels, like a giant hamster wheel but for cats. He barely fits on it and even on the days he finds his balance enough to fit on it, he won’t use it. I’ve sort of thrown in the towel.”

“I think he’s decided how he wants to be in life and you might just have to accept it,” Colton told you. “I’ll stop bugging you, sorry. I said I wouldn’t.”

With that, he turned his attention to his book and you went back to your paper. You sat across from him for the next thirty minutes, occasionally taking glances over at him. You found out later on that he keep looking up at you over the top edge of his book the whole time. You somehow just never caught each other.

As Colton got up to leave, he paused for a second with his phone in his hand, spinning it nervously.

“Um, I know this is probably sort of random and you’re probably not interested, but would you maybe want to get coffee again sometime you don’t have to do work?” Colton asked you, stumbling over practically ever other word on his way to asking you on a date.

You smiled softly as the memory faded out. You placed your hand on your bump again. Thank god the first three coffee shops had been full that day. You gently turned to the next page then the next one and the next one, stopping when the start of another grabbed you.

Dear Winter, don't move too far away And please don't say I'm hovering When I text you to ask about your day I wanna hear about your day Will we still hang out and talk when I'm no longer in charge?

I’m sorry if you ever think I’m hovering, Win, but I promise you, I just want to hear about your day, every single day. Sorry if you move far away for some incredible opportunity and I don’t handle it super well. You know me, your old man, I just want you to be able to catch up with you whenever I want to. I’m a little selfish that way, I guess.

Who knows? Maybe by the time you move, teleportation will be real :)

But if you can, Winter, try and stay close to home. I miss my parents a lot, more than I can properly explain. I know you’re going to be so cool and smart and amazing and you won’t need me someday, but I hope you want me around anyway, even though I’m a lot sometimes.

(Side note: That girl I talked about a while ago, she’s the one who made me think of this letter. I told her I was scared I was hovering too much, that I was smothering her, and she told me she wanted me around even more. I think you’d like her, Win.)

Hold on for someone who cares about you exactly as you are and loves the way you care about people. You shouldn’t have to change the way you care for someone. They should just feel it.

Love, Dad

(P.S. Whenever you read this, please come home for a visit, even if you were here yesterday. I’ve definitely missed you since then.)

Your mind flashed back to Colton’s first road trip a few months after you started dating. You had a busy day, absolutely packed with meetings and work, so you’d barely had any time to glance at your phone all day. When you finally had a second to glance at it on the way to your car, you groaned. Two missed calls and four texts from Colton. Of course, the day he managed to find some time away from the guys to call you when you were supposed to be done with work, you had been kept late and missed him.

You were already dialing his number as you dropped into your driver’s seat to begin the traffic-filled journey home. Colton answered on the second ring.

“Hey.”

Your brows furrowed at his tone. He was trying hard to sound calm, but you could hear the nerves edging at each letter. He swallowed hard, hard enough you could hear it over the phone.

“What’s up, babe?” you asked him as you slowly backed out of your parking space. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing,” he said too quickly. He knew he’d said it too quickly the second it had left his mouth. He sighed and you heard some rustling on his end of the phone, following by a door being shut. “I’m sorry I bugged you today.”

“What?” you asked, even more confused than you had been previously as you turned on your right blinker. “You didn’t bug me, Colt. I asked you to call if you were free anytime outside my work hours. I just ended up working late today, that’s all.”

“Oh, okay.”

You could tell there was still something bothering him. His pitch was too high, responses too short. He was still on edge, something bigger dancing on the tip of his tongue. He knew you knew. You could read him like an open book even through the phone and he knew better than to not tell you when he was upset. “Relationships thrive with windows and doors open,” was what you always told him, and it takes two people to keep them open all the time.

“Am I hovering?” he blurted out. “Am I bothering you? I just, when I called you again, the guys started-”

“Those idiots that couldn’t keep a girl if they had a carefully curated list of instructions from the girl they liked to tell them how to keep her? They don’t know anything,” you jumped in. “You’re not bothering me, Colt. You never bother me. I want as much of you as I can get. If my life was you just and me, having our favorite lazy Saturday where we go to the farmer’s market, play Scrabble, make bad cocktails, and cook unnecessarily complex dinners before we watch some niche movie practically no one else on the planet has ever seen, I’d be so unbelievably happy. I want as much of you as I can have, Colt, and sometimes I feel like I’m asking for too much. You’re not hovering. I want you right here.”

“You’re not asking for too much,” he replied. Of course, Colton would ignore everything you had said to comfort him in favor of comforting you. “You’re sure I’m not too much? I can do less, if that would be better for you. I can, fuck, I don’t know, whatever you need.”

“Colton, I love you,” you sighed. “That’s the easiest thing in the world to say to you. I love you, Colton. I love loving you. I love being loved by you. At least, god, I hope you love me back because now I’m realizing we’ve never actually said that and I’m sort of freaking out, but I love learning to love you better and I love finding new ways to show you I love you. Today’s way is actually telling you I do, I guess.”

“Of course I love you too.”

Colton’s words had reminded you of a prayer, a prayer of a grateful man whose longing, desperate words to something out there that he’d whispered ages ago had finally been answered. You didn’t know how long he’d felt it, definitely longer than you, but love wasn’t a competition. There wasn’t a yardstick, a to-do list, or a formula. Love was whatever you made it to be. You loved Colton, and finally told him, and he loved you, and finally told you. That day, that was all either of you needed.

That day was so clear in your mind. It was the day that set your life on the path it was on, the day that really had started the path that ended up with little Winter being more than a figment in Colton’s mind when he wrote these letters. She was real and you were going to meet her in just a few short months. Your mind wandered forward, seeing Winter’s wide baby blue eyes, you imagined she’d look like Colton as well, hoping your genes didn’t taint his too much to ruin her, as Colton had her sitting on his broad shoulders, securing her safely to him with hands around her ankles as you walked through the zoo. She would be pointing at each animal, tugging on his hair, making sure he saw each and every one. He would be patient, kind, and caring, matching Winter’s excitement in kind with each animal. You would catch him on Google the night before, making sure he knew at least one random, uncommon fact about each one for her, just to make her day. That was the kind of thing Colton said he would do for her to you when you’d shown him the positive pregnancy test, and one of an ever-expanding, never finished lists of reason you wanted to have kids with him.

You sighed as you felt her flip over in your stomach. She was constantly in motion, something that brought you peace because it told you she was healthy, but as much comfort as it brought you, it brought you more discomfort at the very feeling. You shifted on the couch as you turned to the next entry.

Dear Winter, I hope you like your name I hope you let me take a shot with you on your twenty-first But shit, you gotta ask your mom first

I really hope you let me take a shot with you on your birthday. I’m asking because I was at a restaurant early today and saw the dad order two shots of tequila at a five star restaurant for him and his daughter, who had to be about twenty-one when her birthday dessert came out. She thought it was hilarious and you could tell she she did the shot with him that she loved her dad a ton. So naturally I thought of doing it with you. I know you’re definitely not going to think I’m cool by then, and you could be living in Canada instead where the drinking age is lower, but either way, I hope you don’t mind taking a shot with your old man.

But, even if you don’t think I’m cool, even if we have to do the shot together over Facetime, even if Facetime doesn’t exist and you have to text me to ask me what it means when you read this, I hope we do one together. I promise, your old man could drink once, Win!

So, go ask your mom and I’ll break out the good tequila for you! :)

Love, Dad

You would definitely have to approve of the aforementioned tequila shot now that he’d been planning it for almost twenty-five years based on when this was written and when Winter would be twenty-one base on her estimated birthday. You laughed lightly and shook your head. Colton was already winning parenting debates with you and he didn’t even know it. Actually, maybe he did. It would be Colton to have planned this all out just so. You smiled as you flipped to the next entry.

Dear Winter, I'm looking for your mom I gotta find a girl that doesn't mind that I'm inside my head a lot Winter, it won't be too long First, I just gotta find your mom

This whole writing to you as I’ve looked for your mom is how this whole notebook started.

And Winter, boy do I have some good news about your existence for you.

That girl I mentioned a while back? I asked her to marry me today. And somehow, she said yes.

I found her, Win. I found your mom. She’s the most incredible person I’ve ever met in my entire like, that is, until I meet you. And, Winnie, she’s so excited to meet you too someday.

Here’s hoping she likes your name :)

Love, Dad

Your eyes were filled with tears again and you were so caught up in the moment, you missed the sound of Colton fusing with the lock on the front door as he entered the house.

“Baby? Why are you crying? Is everything okay? Is Little P okay? How was the appointment?”

Colton’s questions were flying out of his mouth almost faster than you could understand. You heard his gym bag hit the floor and his feet hit heavy on the hardwood as he rushed over to you. Colton rounded the back of the couch and stopped when he saw what was in your hands. You closed the notebook gently in your hands, careful with the soft leather binding, before pulling the elastic over to keep it closed. You turned your head toward your husband. He was white as a sheet, nervousness coating his features. His baby blue eyes were jumping between your puffy eyes, your stomach, and the notebook in your hands impossibly fast. He swallowed hard, waiting for you to say something because his mind was running too fast toward the brick wall of having to ask you what you thought about what was in your hands to actually speak.

“Colt,” you breathed out softly before placing a hand on your stomach again, “Little P is a girl.”

“A girl? Really? I’m going to be a girl dad? Really?”

Colton’s voice cracked with each word and tears began to spill over almost instantly as he sank onto the couch beside you. Hesitantly, as if he didn’t know if he was still allowed to, he reached a hand out toward your stomach. You grabbed his large hand with both of yours and placed it on your swollen belly.

“Do you want to tell her what her name is?” you asked him softly.

His eyes snapped up to meet yours. He took his bottom lip between his teeth and looked at with cautious, hesitant joy.

“You like it?” Colton asked you, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I love her name, Colton, and since you came up with it, I think she should hear her for the first time from her incredible dad who already loves her more than she can possibly understand.”

You reached a hand out to cup Colton’s face as you spoke. He leaned softly into your hand, his free hand cupping over yours, completely dwarfing it. He smiled at you softly before he placed a gentle kiss onto your palm, a silent way of telling you he loved you. His fingers wrapped around your hand, pulling it down to your belly along with his as his eyes shifted to it.

“Hey, Winter, it’s me, your dad.”

#colton parayko #colton parayko imagine #colton parayko writing #Hockey Fanfiction #hockey writing #hockey imagine #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl blurbs #nhl imagine

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talkfastromance4 · 3 years

Text

5. Trigger--Ashton Irwin ‘Lovers in a Song’ series

a/n: The final installment is here! I’m so sorry for the delay but I kept bouncing back concepts on how I wanted it to end. This is a rollercoaster. You’re probably going to hate me then love me, then hate me again. Thank you all for reading. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Word count: 11.5k

warnings: mentions of drug cartel/lords/paraphernalia, angst, heartbreak, sexual situations

Masterlist

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***

Cressida is awoken by two things, a loud peal of thunder and a combination of Ashton’s warm hands and mouth on her skin. For a moment she forgets that this is their last morning together. Ashton’s large hands lift up her nightgown and he curves his body to mold with hers as his lips kiss below her breast. His fingers rub at her skin in a tantalizing way, her body is humming. Then she hears him sniff and her eyes flash open. His cheeks are wet while he continues to kiss along her ribcage.

“Ashton?” she touches his hair and her heart shatters at the look on his face.

He’s pained. His cheeks are covered in tears, his pretty hazel eyes are bloodshot and his lower lip trembles. Cressida gathers his head against her chest, wrapping her arms and legs around his body so he’s crushing her, so that there’s no spaces between them. If she held him tight enough maybe they’d mold together and would never have to be apart.

His body shakes against hers, hot tears sting at her own eyes as he releases what he’s been holding in. The thought of losing her has finally come to life and it’s breaking him from the inside out.

“I’m trying to…get as much of you as I can,” he whines pressing his tear-stained lips to her neck. “I’m not ready to let go.” He chokes on the words as he tries to kiss her again.

She closes her eyes wishing it didn’t have to be this way. His lips on her skin are burned to her memory and after today that’s all it will ever be, a memory. She feeds into his desperation and sadness, their lips finding each other’s and Ashton presses into her.

Her cries turn to moans, her tears fall free, and Ashton’s movements are frenzied yet controlled. He wants this to last for as long as possible. She stabilizes his cheeks until he’s looking at her, his handsome face twisted.

“It’s okay,” she whispers tracing his brows, his nose, his lips. “It’s okay.”

He nods and slows his movements to a more controlled roll. Their kisses are bittersweet each time, a terrible reminder that their time is up. The storm has arrived. The axe has been swung.

“I love you,” he whispers on her neck lacing their fingers beside her head.

“I love you.”

They prolong the moment for as long as they can, one last thing they can do together, one last thing they’re in control of, but all good things must come to an end. And they arrived at that end together, sighing each other’s names. Soft caresses over shoulders and down hips are touches committing to memory.

“How did you find out?” she asks afterwards while petting his hair. Their legs are tangled, every part of him is touching every part of her.

The bad news he’s been dreading ever since Gavin and Cressida have been ‘together’ is coming into the light. Ashton and Cressida’s relationship has always had an expiration date but now that it’s finally here…it’s a lot worse.

“My assistant Phil and your assistant Chloe are yoga buddies and she told him you and Gavin will be announcing the engagement today,” Ashton responds sadly. His voice tickles her collarbone, and he nestles in closer to her, holding her tighter. “Did he actually buy a ring or is it a prop from your parents?”

“He bought it…I um…have it with me because after this I need to meet him at the Italian restaurant where we had our first ‘date.’” Cressida’s voice is oddly calm, but it doesn’t sound like her, it’s more robotic, monotone. “Paparazzi were tipped off we’d be there and that will be the first look.”

“Can I see it?” Ashton asks after a moment of shared sad silence.

“Ash, I don’t think that’s—”

“Please, Cressida,” he lifts his head, hair falling in front of his tired hazel eyes. “I need to see it.”

Cressida searches his face then finally nods and slips out from underneath him. She shifts through her coat that’s been on the floor since she dropped it there and pulls out a red ring box. Her hands are shaking as she hands him the box. They’re both naked, open and vulnerable to each other like they always have been but for the first time in their five-year long relationship, Cressida feels ashamed as he opens the box.

Ashton stares at the gaudiness of it. it’s a cushion cut diamond; the band covered in tiny diamonds. It’s much too large, so large that it looks like costume jewelry and although Cressida is a larger-than-life woman, she loves the softer things. She doesn’t need or want gaudy; this ring isn’t her at all.

“Hideous, isn’t it?” she tries to joke.

“It’s…” Ashton snaps the box shut, lifts his eyes to hers. Her hair is all mussed and her body is covered in love bites from him, his initials are still present on her belly. “We need to shower before you go.”

He leaves the ring on the center of their bed then grabs her hand leading her into the bathroom. Cressida’s arm loops around his naked waist as he turns the shower on, and they hug each other as the water warms up. The hot water stings their skin as they stand underneath it, she loves the steady stream on her head and the way Ashton’s fingers massage the shampoo into her scalp. She can’t keep her eyes off him as he rubs it out of her hair.

The water droplets roll down his cheeks and nose then disappear onto his lips. When her hair is rinsed out, Cressida grips his face and presses her lips to his. Ashton’s hesitant at first.

“We shouldn’t, angel, you might be late…”

“I won’t be,” she whispers dipping one hand in between them. She strokes him gently and he lets out a soft groan. “Please, Ash, I need you.”

“Fuck,” he moans then pushes her against the wall, his tongue stroking over hers.

Ashton lifts her in the air hiking her legs around his waist. She helps him enter her, biting his lip hard in the process by being filled again. He cups the back of her neck with a secure grip so when he starts to thrust her head won’t knock against the wall harshly. Her nails dig into the meat of his shoulders, his strong shoulders that embrace her so well.

Their breath is shared in heavy pants, lips knocking haphazardly as he thrusts, and she welcomes each one. Cressida whimpers as Ashton grunts, her toes curling in pleasure. Ashton’s tired of keeping his hand on the trigger of their love, so after she orgasms, he releases into her once more. When he pulls out and Cressida drops her feet to the shower floor, he can’t help but stare between her legs as his release drips out of her.

He knocks his forehead against hers. “That isn’t the ring I would have chosen for you.”

Her heart clenches at his words and closes her eyes. Does she dare ask what kind of ring he’d buy her? It would only twist the white-hot knife in her heart more.

“What kind would you buy me?” Apparently she wants to feel the pain.

“It’d be rose gold, a thin band with a round diamond. Not too big, not too small, but perfectly perfect, just like you.” He kisses her nose. “And I would have taken you back to that dive bar where we met and asked you to be the love of my life forever.”

Cressida opens her eyes to see Ashton already staring at her.

“You’ll always be the love of my life.”

The real goodbye is even harder as she tries one last attempt to fix the fall of their star-crossed affair. Her clothes are changed and she’s smeared make-up over the markings on her neck.

“What if I tell them I won’t marry Gavin?” she asks standing in the doorway. “He already knows about us and he doesn’t want this any more than we do.”

“If you don’t marry him, what will your parent’s do?” Ashton’s voice sounds tired because this is a conversation they’ve had many times over the last five years.

“I’ll be relinquished of my duties and cut off, but I don’t need the company or the money. I want you, Ashton. The truth is all I really want is somebody who wants me and that’s you. I want you.”

She touches his cheek, but all Ashton feels is the icy weight of her engagement ring on his skin. She put it on for the first time since the news will be broken to the world, but now its curtain call on their own love. The real show is to begin. It brands him in torture.

“I won’t have you throw away your future because of me, Cressida. This is how it’s supposed to be,” he replies sadly. “How it should have been, us making it linger only makes this worse.”

“We can change it! Please, Ashton,” she begs with tears welling in her eyes.

They stare eat each other, eyes having a silent conversation. She is screaming while he is silent in defeat and acceptance of their reality.

“You should go,” he kisses her palm then removes her hand from his face. “You’re the most valuable, the most precious, and the most beautiful gold in the world, Cressida. I’ll never stop loving you.”

Cressida breaks down burying her face in his chest. Her heart is breaking and even with Ashton’s arms around her, she isn’t getting fixed. Nothing can fix her now.

Six Months After Breakup—Cressida

Cressida’s walking along the aisles of flowers in the large nursery where she and Gavin are picking out flowers for their wedding. Their parents decided the wedding would be in the first weekend of May which fatefully falls on the anniversary of her and Ashton’s first meeting. It’s a cruel twist of fortune. She touches the smooth petals of a white calla lily, her engagement ring sparkling in the afternoon sun.

Cressida’s parents and Gavin’s parents are discussing a flower arch with the florist and Cressida decided to wander off. Her mind is on Ashton but when isn’t it? She’s always wondering what he’s doing, how he’s doing. Is she on his mind as well? She read in a fashion magazine that Lucinda broke up with him and is now dating some minor league baseball player claiming, ‘she’s never been happier.’ Cressida wanted to reach out and ask what happened to their planned marriage, but she decided not to.

Why add salt to a still open wound?

“I think these would look lovely in a bouquet,” Gavin says from behind her.

Cressida turns to see him holding up three marigolds, all of them a brilliant golden yellow. The plumes are lush and full, and the smell reminds her of summer. Cressida looks up to Gavin, his dark brown curls and even darker brown eyes. It’s taken them a long time but they’re finally friends. When Ashton told him to get sober, Gavin tried to but his footprint in the drug dealing world was too vast. She flashes back to that time three months ago.

After Cressida left The Golden Lion to meet with Gavin at the restaurant for their engagement appearance, his eyes were bloodshot, and his pupils made his eyes look like black holes. They made the photo opportunity short as possible, Cressida made sure to show off the engagement ring that felt like a weighted brick anytime she waved her hand around.

By the time they made it to her house, they were trending all over the world.

“I thought you were sober?” she asks throwing her bags on the floor.

“I’m trying,” he grumbles opening the fridge to take out a bottle of water. “Next time you see Irwin, I’ll be out of the ring.”

“I won’t be seeing him,” she mumbles pulling out her favorite bottle of wine from her wine cabinet. Her voice was back to the monotone.

“What do you mean?”

“You and I are getting married. It’s done. We’re done,” she pops the cork and walks outside to her deck by the pool.

Gavin disappeared for the next three days and at first Cressida didn’t care because then she could mourn over her and Ashton’s relationship in peace. Well, not really peace because she sobbed so loud in bed, in her pillow, in the shower.

It wasn’t until her mother called asking for her and Gavin to come over for brunch on Sunday to celebrate the joining of their families that Cressida started to worry. Both of his phones went straight to voicemail and it wasn’t until she got in contact with his best friend Jack that she discovered that’s where he was.

Cressida arrives at Jack’s place to find Gavin beaten up horrendously and lying on Jack’s couch. There’s so much dried blood and swelling on his face she barely recognized him. It took a few shakes and shouting his name before he opened his eyes, but even then they were tiny slits.

“What the hell happened?” Cressida asks in shock as her eyes roam over his body. His Armani shirt is torn and bloody, a very large red stain on the side of his stomach that is oozing onto the couch.

“Left the ring and they uh said this…” Gavin winces as he tries to sit up straighter, “was my farewell.”

“You need to go to the hospital, Gavin, you’re bleeding out.”

“No! I can’t let anyone know I was involved in—”

“You have enough money to keep this on the down low. I’m calling an ambulance,” she shakes her head and pulls out her phone.

While Gavin recovered for a week in the hospital, Cressida stayed with him. The cover story was that he got jumped outside of a hotel, nothing was stolen because he didn’t have anything of value, so they beat him up more for it. Everyone believed it.

The doctors wanted to give him morphine to help with the pain, but he refused because it would offset the other drugs that were still in his system. Cressida’s surprised and impressed that he actually means he’s going to be sober now. With the pain and the start of his withdrawals, he didn’t sleep very well through the night.

On the fourth night he woke up gasping for breath, his body covered in sweat.

“Gavin! What is it? What’s wrong?” Cressida asks turning on the light to see his pillow wet from his sweat. His eyes are large as saucers.

“I’m…fine!” he grits through his teeth staring at the ceiling. “With—withdrawals that’s…. all…”

Cressida sat next to him on his bed and held his hand. His eyes shifted to hers and he grimaces.

“I don’t deserve your help…after what I did to you…”

“Shh, let’s not talk about that now,” she shakes her head. “Let’s get you through this.”

After that, she helped him each time he went through a bad spell. It helped distract her from thinking of Ashton, even though he was always on the back of her mind anyway. She went to meetings with him and helped him with other coping skills. After a month most of his wounds and bruises were healing and there was a new light about him.

When she came home from the office, the house smelled amazing, and he was in the kitchen cooking. His red wine sat at the center of the table and Cressida tried to force the memory of Ashton and that exact wine out of her mind.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“I am officially sixty days sober today,” Gavin grins, “and I wanted to make you dinner as a thank you for helping me. I made some appetizers, come taste.”

She stands next to him and eats the appetizer he made, some kind of meatball with a sweet sauce. It’s very delicious. While she accompanied him to his meetings they shared a lot of heart to hearts and became closer than before.

“I also wanted to apologize for how I treated you,” he says pouring her a glass of wine. “And for what happened at The Golden Lion. It sounds like a poor excuse, but I never, ever meant to hit you. I’m so sorry that I did, I think about it all the time and hate myself for it.”

“I know you didn’t mean to and if anyone should be apologizing it should be me. I didn’t treat you very fairly either, Gavin. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for…cheating on you.”

“It’s not cheating when our relationship was never legitimate. I wasn’t faithful either,” he gives her an impish smile.

“I still feel bad about it. I was so wrapped up in….it should have stopped when we started this fake relationship anyway,” she shakes her head and takes a drink of his wine. Her mind swirls and her stomach gets butterflies as memories of Ashton invade her.

“I know it hurts you to talk about him,” Gavin says placing his hand on her shoulder. “I knew this would never be real to you. I know it’s arranged and…I wouldn’t be upset if you’d still want to see him.”

“That’s not fair to you, Gavin, and besides, Ashton and I are over, remember?” she swallows a big gulp of the red wine. It tastes different, it’s not as sweet as it was that night with Ashton. “I won’t be unfaithful to you in our marriage.”

“Let’s start as friends then,” he holds out his hand for her to take.

“Friends after three years of dating,” she giggles shaking his hand.

“We never really got to know each other. We were always so busy and when we were together, it was forced and publicized.”

“Very true,” she purses her lips then lifts up her wine glass. “To a new friendship.”

Their glasses clink and they share a wonderful evening over good food and to finally getting to know each other. He didn’t ask about Ashton and she didn’t offer it up. A clean slate is a clean slate, even though she’s still branded.

“Cress?” Gavin asks pulling her from her quick reverie. He’s holding the golden flowers in front of her.

“They are lovely,” she smiles dipping her nose into the multitude of petals. “And wouldn’t look too bad in the lapel of your jacket.”

“I can make any flower pop,” he grins handing her the small bouquet.

“Gavin! Cressida! Over here!” Cressida’s mother, Maria calls from the front of the nursery.

“We’re being summoned,” Gavin reaches for her hand then pauses, his brown eyes looking up at her. “May I?”

Cressida smiles and takes his hand in hers; her ring twists a little on her finger as she squeezes his hand. “You know you don’t have to ask.”

“I know, but every time I do you get a little flustered,” he smiles.

The rest of the afternoon is spent by going over more wedding plans; the guest list that is always being revised, the food menu that is always being altered, but the one thing that remains is Cressida’s stress and worry. When she worries she twists her ring and only stops when Gavin places his hand over hers gently. She looks up at him and he nods as if in understanding.

“I think my bride-to-be is a bit overwhelmed,” he announces to their parents who are bickering about the silverware. “Can we continue this some other time?”

“Oh, yes of course! We can’t have you wrinkling my dear,” Maria, Cressida’s mother smiles.

“Why don’t you two head on over to Rouge and tell them I’ve sent you, so you’ll only get the best of the best,” her father, Mark beams at his daughter.

“Thank you sir,” Gavin rises from his chair and Cressida kisses her father’s cheek.

“Thank you, Dad.”

“Enjoy yourself, darling. No need to stress.”

Gavin and Cressida do enjoy themselves as they drink and eat at the jazz restaurant. They even get up and dance when they’re called out by the band leader who spots them. Cressida is impressed by Gavin’s fancy footwork; he even lifts her up and spins her around which has them both laughing.

“Wow, I didn’t know you could dance,” she says breathlessly.

“I didn’t either, you brought it out of me.”

His eyes flicker to her lips and Cressida feels her stomach tighten. His hand on her lower back bunches up the fabric of her dress, his fingers squeezing her closer to his body. They’ve never been this close before and it makes her heart pound harshly against her chest. Gavin’s breath slows as he moves forward, his lips ebbing closer. She’s not sure if it’s butterflies or fear at the thought of possibly kissing someone other than Ashton so she pulls away.

“I need to um, use the ladies’ room,” she excuses herself and runs.

More moments like that have happened as they both become a bit more comfortable being close together. Their acting of intimacy doesn’t feel so forced anymore when they’re with their parents. When Cressida tenses at the mention of the ever-growing guest list (she lost count when it surpassed 1,500) Gavin rubs at her neck in assurance. When they’re overlooking options for dining ware, Cressida doesn’t hesitate to place her fingers on his lower back to peer over his shoulder.

That’s as far as their physical relationship has gone, innocent touches that leave a large impact and her mind swimming in many conflicting thoughts and emotions. It keeps her up at night and when she dreams she sees memories of Ashton morphing into Gavin.

It leaves her in even more confusion.

There’s laughter and chatter from her mother and friends sitting outside the dressing room of the bridal boutique. It’s her last fitting before the big day. The big day that has been looming over her head for years. Cressida hasn’t seen what the dress looks like, she’s only been sized and measured multiple times and asked questions about different designs of dresses that she liked.

“It fits you like a glove, Miss James,” the consultant Wendy gushes and fastens the last button. “Are you excited to see it?”

“Yes,” Cressida smiles at her warmly but inside she’s screaming.

“I’ll go out and make a grand entrance for you, just step onto the platform and you’ll see yourself in your wedding dress!”

Cressida took the split ten seconds to mentally prepare herself for the big reveal, to her entourage and to herself. Wendy opened the door and everyone on the white couch gasp as Cressida steps out. The fabric is cool between her fingers as she lifts it up to step onto the platform, keeping her eyes on the floor and not on the mirror yet. Wendy poofs out the bottom of the dress.

“You look divine, darling!” her mother says dotting at her eyes delicately with her fingers. “Do you love it?”

Cressida takes another deep breath then slowly lifts her gaze and gasps. The dress is absolutely beautiful and fits her figure wonderfully, she’s never felt more beautiful in a dress before. It’s perfect. The design is to her taste and with the veil attached to her head, she’s the perfect bride.

“Gavin is going to lose it when he sees you!”

“He won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”

“Or his hands!”

More giggles ensue and they continue with their banter as reality sets in with Cressida the more she stares at herself. The dress is exquisite, a perfect dream, but while her entourage were gushing about Gavin, Cressida was picturing Ashton.

Ashton waiting for her at the end of the aisle. Ashton holding her hand as the pastor spoke. Ashton slipping the wedding band on her finger. Ashton telling her the vows he wrote and spoke with conviction. Ashton kissing her.

Ashton Ashton Ashton Ashton Ashton

!!!!!!

His name repeats like a haunted hymn trying to keep time with her rapid breaths. She feels hot. Too hot. She feels like she’s suffocating, and although the dress doesn’t have a high collar it’s as if she’s being choked. She needs to get out of it.

In a few short months she’ll be standing in front of Gavin. There’s a high-pitched ringing in her ears, the voices of her mother and friends are muffled, the light is too bright.

It isn’t until Chloe, her saving grace, catches her right before she’s about to fall off the platform. The other women are crowding around her, but Cressida can’t breathe, she needs air, she needs to get out of this dress.

“She’s fine, she’s fine, she started this new juice cleanse. I guess celery isn’t the one for her,” Chloe laughs off the quick excuse but helps her stand up. “Plus, with pre-wedding jitters and all. Let’s get you out of this for now, hm?”

Chloe drags her back into the dressing room where Cressida is gasping for air and waving her arms trying to unbutton the dress.

“I got it, I got it, hang on…” Chloe works quickly to undo the back of the dress.

Cressida lets out a loud gasp when she feels the dress pull away from her skin, she pulls off the cold shoulder sleeves quickly and carefully as possible. When she’s finally free she collapses to the floor in the heap of her dress, her vision is splotchy, and she sees stars. Chloe drapes the bridal robe over her shoulders and hugs her tightly.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. Breathe…easy, easy,” Chloe takes deep inhales and exhales with Cressida.

“I’m sorry, I-I-I…it all came real so fast, and I was picturing—”

“Ashton?” Chloe asks quietly and Cressida nods. Chloe hugs her until her heart has slowed, all the broken pieces of it.

Later that evening, Gavin found out she had a panic attack at the dress fitting. He became worried instantly and held onto her shoulders searching her eyes as if he could see the replay in them.

“How are you now? Do you need anything?” he asks concerned.

“I’m all right, it all hit me so fast when I saw me in the dress, that’s all,” she tries to smile then looks down and away from him.

“Hey,” Gavin ticks his finger under her chin, so she looks up at him, “We’re in this together. I promise I will take care of you and be your friend and confidant throughout all this. We can do this, Cress.” He pulls her into his arms, his embrace is tight, and it makes her feel better, she feels put together for a moment. “Why don’t you go take a bath and go to bed early?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” she sighs.

“I’ll get it ready for you,” he kisses the top of her head, gives her one more squeeze, then heads upstairs.

Cressida feels herself walking upstairs into her bathroom but it’s as if she’s on autopilot or watching herself from a distance. Gavin’s reading the back of one of her bath salts when she enters, and she looks at him. Really looks at him. He’s tall and handsome, that’s a fact, but she never noticed before how the symbol tattooed on his back peeks out on his neck under his collar. Or how his hair curls into smooth waves at the back of his head, and how broad his shoulders are.

He’s speaking to her about bubbles or oils, she’s not really listening as she starts to undress in front of him. In her dissociative mind, she wants to experiment with something. The small seed of feelings for him keep nudging at her, if she waters it will it bloom into something greater? When she steps closer that’s when Gavin notices her half nakedness.

“Does the salt stick to—” his eyes take her in slowly, watching her movements carefully as she shimmies out of her pants and then her panties. He swallows audibly, the bottle of bath salts slips from his fingers and falls into the tub with a shallow bump. “What— “he clears his throat when she steps closer, “what are you doing?”

“Can we try something?” she asks reaching for his arms. She grips his forearms, feels the taut muscles underneath his skin.

She knows he can definitely hear how loud her heart is beating. He nods as she lifts to her toes, her hands moving to his neck. Hesitantly, and oh so slowly, she moves closer to him. So close that she can feel his breath on her lips, he smells like a spicy musk, which is very inviting and then her lips are on his. Gavin remains still, letting her go at her own pace.

His lips are soft but are definitely different from the pair she’s used to. His cologne keeps her in check that this is Gavin and not—

“We don’t have to do this,” Gavin pulls back, and she feels a little empty from it. “I know this is so much for you.”

“Can we try?” she whispers, her eyes begging him to say yes.

“Are you sure?” he asks cupping her cheek. His thumb traces her bottom lip, his warm brown eyes meeting hers.

“I’m sure,” she nods.

Gavin crushes his lips to hers and his other hand grips her bare waist, pulling her to him in a tastefully forceful way. He sits on the edge of the tub and she presses herself to him, her hands yanking up his shirt. His hair gets messed up and then she admires the tattoos on his torso, her fingers tracing the designs and lines.

“I didn’t know you had any of these.”

“They’re all a part of my life story.”

“You’ll have to tell me about them sometime,” her gaze is steady on his as she unbuttons his pants. He shuts off the water of the tub standing up.

“I’d be glad to,” he smiles then lifts her into his arms carrying her to her bedroom.

Gavin takes his time kissing her from her lips all the way down to the very epicenter of her. Cressida closes her eyes so she can enjoy the feeling she’s experiencing and not to compare his touch with another’s. Gavin is gentle, touching her like she’s going to disappear into thin air.

She’s exploring him just as much as he is, she likes tracing the large tattoo on his back that goes up both shoulder blades. When they finally connect, she gasps, both in pleasure and at the vast difference. He’s making her feel good, her body is humming and tries to move with his. This is new for the both of them, this is their first time together after all.

At one point, she’s transported to another bed with another man and her nails creating large red arches into his back, they almost look like angel wings. She’s flashing back and forth from memory to present. When her release nears, all she sees is white space behind her eyelids. Then it’s over and they hold each other, both of them lost in their own thoughts.

“Is that what you wanted to try?” Gavin lifts his head from her neck, and she nods. “Dare I ask what the…conjecture is?”

“It was…” she searches his eyes trying to find the right words that hold truth in them, “it was really good.”

Gavin smiles slowly and nods. “I’m glad to hear that, I thought so, too. Do you still want your bath?”

“I can go do it,” she nods brushing away a curl from his forehead then presses her palm to his cheek. “How about you go pick us up some ice cream? We can watch a movie before bed.”

“Mint chip, right?” he grins leaning down to give her a kiss.

“Right,” she laughs kissing him again.

Gavin slides off the bed and hops back into his pants.

“I’ll grab your favorite wine, too. Maybe I’ll join you in the bath,” he winks pulling on his shirt then exits the room.

Cressida feels herself moving again, going through the motions of turning on the water and adding the salts and bubbles. She closes the door and dims the lights, making sure her rotary phone is next to the bath. When she climbs in, the hot water burns the soles of her feet and her hands, but it feels good.

She feels different.

It’s been a very long and very emotional day and Ashton invades her mind yet again. Moving on their own discord, her fingers reach for the phone and dials the number she’s had memorized for almost six years. It rings and rings and rings until the automated voicemail lady comes on. Cressida pushes the disconnect tab in the center and dials again. There’s a click.

“Cressida?”

Her breath hitches at the sound of his voice, then she slams the phone back in its cradle. She sinks below the water level, her head submerging into the vapid silence of the water. How did hearing Ashton’s voice hurt worse than the silence of him not picking up? There’s a purpose for all of this pain, but what is it? She’s falling, but she doesn’t know if she’s falling in or out of love.

Ten Months After Breakup—Ashton

Ashton has been a loaded gun ever since he and Cressida ended. He’s quick to anger and frustration, snapping at people over the simplest of questions. A lot has changed since that last weekend with Cressida and yet it feels like everything is the same.

He’s flipping through his calendar on his desk for upcoming appointments he’s jotted down and pauses on the first weekend of May which is two months away.

In the past, he would already be preparing the secret weekend getaway with Cressida. He’d be confirming with The Golden Lion that his room and floor were reserved for him. He’d make sure the room is stocked with their favorite food and drink and that Cressida’s robe was firmly pressed. Now, that weekend is wide open, staring him in the face with its blankness.

For the first time in six years, the white squares are empty. The Golden Lion isn’t scrawled in his gold fountainhead pen, as if it’s been erased completely but the memories are still burned into his mind. She’s left her mark in him so deep.

Ashton had a very slow incline from the very deep valley of his heartache. His phone beeps and he presses the button with the flashing red light.

“Yes?” he asks through the intercom.

“Mr. Hemmings is here to see you, Mr. Irwin,” his assistant Phil announces.

“Send him in.”

“A package was delivered for you as well; shall I send it with Mr. Hemmings?”

“That’s fine, Phil. Thanks,” Ashton sighs. He leans back in his chair, his calendar still opened to his schedule in May.

Luke was the one who helped Ashton out of his deep ravine.

He watches Cressida walk down the hall and disappear into the elevator. She didn’t turn around once. He shuffles back inside and makes his way to the large windows overlooking the street down below. Cressida is easy to spot, she’s using his red umbrella then disappears into the backseat of her car and drives off. Leaving him behind.

The dark cloud has been hovering over them this whole weekend and he used everything in his power to keep it at bay, out of sight, out of mind. But now Cressida is out of his sight and he’s about to lose his mind, so he pours himself a double of his whisky. Before he knew it, the bottle was empty, and he called room service to send up some more.

He thought of the consumption as a form of poetic justice, or something along those lines. He wasn’t sure, Cressida would know. She always knows things like that.

Ashton stayed in the hotel room for a whole week until there was a loud pounding on his door. When he opens it, he sees Luke in his crisp Armani suit, his golden hair slicked back in a suave style. The smell of his aftershave was fresh. Luke wrinkles his nose in disgust.

“You look like shit, man.”

“Nice to see you, too,” Ashton mumbles using the door handle as a brace to stay standing.

“It smells like your distillery in here and it reeks off you. Have you been here this whole time?”

“Yeah, so what?

Luke glances behind him then asks carefully, “have you been drunk this whole time?”

“Nope. For the first couple of days, I was because I finished my whisky, but now I’m sober and angry.” He turns inside the room and pulls out a bottle of water, Luke follows him carefully by making sure not to step on dirty clothes. “Do you need anything?”

“Yeah, you. You need to get back to work. I’ve been calling and calling but your phone doesn’t even ring. Did you lose it?”

“It’s been in that drawer since about a week and a half ago,” Ashton nods to the dresser. His phone is right where he left it when he arrived for his weekend with Cressida.

“Fantastic. Pack it up and let’s get you clean shaven.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” Luke shoves his hands in his pockets, a golden brow arched upward. “Why not?”

“Because Luke,” Ashton sighs and stares at him with disdain and a far off look in his eyes. “The love of my life is no longer in my life and I’m trying to grab a handle on that.”

“I didn’t know you and Lucinda broke up.”

“Luc--? No! Not Lucinda. Cressida. She’s gone but if I stay in this room… it’s like she’s still here, like she’ll come back.”

“Hold on,” Luke holds up a hand. “Cressida James? How are you in love with her? Aren’t your families cursed or something?”

“No, we aren’t cursed,” Ashton scoffs, “we’re sworn enemies.”

“Ah, because that’s really a big difference,” Luke mutters.

“We’ve been seeing each other in secret for five years, coming to this room every first weekend in May.”

Luke’s eyes widen. “Five years? Okay, I need to be filled in on this but before I am, you need to shower and then we’ll get lunch.”

Ashton explained everything about his and Cressida’s relationship all the way from the beginning. Their first meeting on graduation eve, their months spent in Europe, the highs and lows, their secret discussions of work that made sales skyrocket, secret glances, everything.

“So, let me see if I got this right,” Luke wipes the corners of his mouth with his napkin then sets it on the table. He uses his hands as he speaks. “You and Lucinda aren’t really dating, Cressida and Gavin aren’t really dating, but you and Cressida have kind-of-sort-of been ‘dating’ for the last five years.”

“Correct.”

“But now, because somehow an arranged marriage is still a thing, she’s marrying Gavin and you two had to split up.”

“Yes.”

Luke stares at Ashton like he has three heads and Ashton stares right back, his face passive. He takes a drink of his water then raises his eyebrows.

“You look like you have more to say.”

“Ash, this is insane. You and Cressida are clearly meant to be together, for as long as I’ve known you, you have never been in a serious relationship. Hell, I’ve never seen you go out with someone until Lucinda came around.”

“It’s always been Cressida.”

“It can still always be Cressida! Ash,” Luke laughs dryly, “you need to stop this wedding. Confess your love and runaway with her!”

“Luke, this isn’t some romance movie, this is real life.”

“Real life where arranged marriages still exist?” Luke challenges. “This situation is fucked but you can get her back.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because she’d be disowned and lose the company. I won’t be responsible for that.”

“There’s no way she’d be free of the company. She’s the best CEO James Brandy has had in years, inflation and sales have been astronomical since she took over. Her family and your family are holding an old grudge that could have easily been a big miscommunication.”

Ashton sighs, he really appreciates his friend’s attempt at trying to solve his woes. Woes he’s brought upon himself, but he and Cressida will never be together, that’s just how it goes.

Ashton went back to work after speaking with Luke. He found it helped him not think about Cressida so much while he was in his office or walking among the floors of his distillery. He made sure Phil had him booked from dusk to dawn and when his mind started to wander to Cressida, he’d find another task to occupy himself.

Each day it got better; each week it became slightly easier. Although Ashton shut himself away, he had Gavin under a very confidential and watchful eye. When Ashton heard he still was involved in the drug cartel with a ton of debt, he decided to step in.

He went to Brazil where the drug lord resides; Ashton was welcomed warmly because they know how wealthy he is. Ashton discovered Gavin has been trying to get out of it, but he owes $1.2 billion dollars. He thought back to Cressida’s cheek and his mind is set.

“I’ll pay his debt in full. Expect the money to be wired tomorrow no later than four,” Ashton says then makes his way towards the door. No one questions him on the money because Ashton is known to being true to his word.

“What is he to you that you are willing to pay off his debt?”

“He owes me something as well, something way more valuable than money.”

“Hmm,” Homer strokes his mustache thoughtfully, “I see. We’ll need to kick him out like we would with the rest of them, debt paid and all. It will be painful.”

“I did my part, who am I to tell you how to do yours?” Ashton shrugs and then he’s gone.

While Ashton waits for Luke to come into his office, he peruses through his news app and sees Lucinda and her new boyfriend as they’re walking along the beach with their new puppy. When Ashton returned from Brazil on his little errand, that’s when he learned of his breakup. Lucinda was there at his house waiting for him. She said she couldn’t keep doing this and if it ruins her career then so be it, she didn’t want to lose Stephen.

Ashton was more than understanding and told her he wishes her the best, and he meant it. After she kissed his cheek on her way out, Ashton wondered if his and Cressida’s decision made them weak or strong. He didn’t want to dwell on it for too long and let a second woman walk out of his life.

Luke waltzes in Ashton’s office in a grandeur fashion and waves a rectangular box in the air.

“Delivery for Mr. Ashton Irwin, I accept tips in the form of largely written checks,” he grins tossing the box on Ashton’s desk.

“Watch it, what if that was fragile and you just broke it?” Ashton shakes his head as Luke drops himself on the blue suede chair.

“I didn’t hear anything break. Let’s go on a trip, Canada sounds nice and welcoming, doesn’t it?”

“Why do you want to go on a trip?” Ashton puts the box in his desk drawer and gathers his wallet and two phones.

“Trips are fun, trips have class and culture. Aren’t you going to open that?”

“I will on Monday. I’ve been getting smaller bottle designs from a vendor that won’t take no for an answer. Who would want a small bottle of my whisky?”

They continue their chatter to the elevator in front of Phil’s desk.

“Mr. Irwin, did you receive the package?”

“I did. We’ll have to send something back. Can you do that for me, Phil?”

“Yeah!” Phil’s eyes widen as if in excitement, Luke and Ashton exchange a look. “I can absolutely send something. What would you like me to say?”

“Um, you can come up with the message. I’m sure you’d make it sound better than mine. Have a good weekend.”

Phil scrambles to his phone and quickly dials some number. Ashton thought he heard him faintly say a name that sounded like Chloe. Chloe is Cressida’s assistant. He shakes his head, he definitely heard him wrong and tunes back into Luke who’s talking about Canadian syrup. Ashton feels a picking at his brain, he can’t quite put his finger on what it is. It felt like he was forgetting something.

One Month Until Wedding

Cressida and Gavin are driving back from his property on the lake. They spent a long weekend laying in the sun, cruising on the water in the early dawn on his boat, and cooking meals together. On the mornings where they didn’t wake up early to go on the boat, the time was spent getting to know each other.

Cressida always feels like she’s in an odd déjà vu every moment she shares with him because it reminds her of some other time. She’s constantly having to only see Gavin in front of her and not a ghost of her past. They’ve continued to get closer and closer; a close friendship has formed completely.

Gavin knew this was the first weekend she wouldn’t be seeing Ashton, so he wanted to help get her mind off of it. She notices that whenever they’re holding hands, his thumb will be circling around the ring on her finger. She catches him staring at her from time to time and while it gives her butterflies, it’s also warning signs. Warning signs that Ashton is slipping away, and she doesn’t want that to happen.

“Can we get serious for a hot second?” he asks when he parks in her driveway.

“Yeah, what’s up?” she gathers up her purse, phone, water bottle, and sunglasses.

“I’m all in on this with you, Cress.”

Cressida stops her movements; she feels her cheeks warm up then looks at him nervously. He’s getting really good at reading her.

“I’ve…I’ve grown attached to you and those feelings are growing. I know you aren’t there yet, or maybe you never will be, or someday maybe? I don’t know. But I’m in this for you,” he stares her down, his eyes full of nothing but honesty. “And any way you’ll have me, I’ll take it. okay?”

“Okay,” she nods then touches his cheek, rubs at his skin. He places his hand over hers, his thumb rubbing over her engagement ring and he kisses the inside of her palm. “I’m sorry I have all of this…weight on me and it’s dragging you down.”

“You could never drag me down, you lifted me up in the first place,” he smiles.

Her heart tugs at his words. She hates herself for not knowing if it’s from flattery or an ache for another. She hates herself even more for being caught in the middle of her own feelings.

“Okay, serious talk over until some other time. Let’s set the bags in and freshen up before meeting your parents for Sunday dinner.” He gives her fingers one more kiss then exits the car.

“There you are! How was it, how did it go? Did you get the brace—OH!”

“Chloe?” Cressida’s in shock upon seeing her in her house. Not that it’s abnormal for her to be here but she didn’t have anything planned for her until Monday.

“Hi! What uh, what are you guys doing here?”

“We went to Gavin’s lake house for the weekend. I thought I ran that by you…” Cressida shakes her head. “What are you doing here?”

“Umm…I uh, there was a package for you but it…it’s the wrong thing. My mistake. I will return it,” she responds awkwardly and tries to scurry out the door.

“Oh, was it my shampoo? Let me take a look, I can see if I want to try it anyway,” Cressida drops her bags on the counter.

“You know what, I actually left it at the office. I’ll return it for you first thing tomorrow morning. I’ll see you Monday, bye!”

Gavin watches her leave the house in confusion; he turns to Cressida slowly.

“That was strange, wasn’t it?” Gavin points in her direction.

“Yeah… she was acting weird all week,” Cressida frowns. “I wonder if she’s going through a tough time or something…I’ll have to ask her tomorrow.”

“I’ll check on the plants and water them, then we can shower and head out?” he asks kissing her forehead.

“What do you mean by shower?” she cracks a smile, and he laughs.

“I didn’t mean it that way, I swear. But I’m open to it, always am,” he winks then heads out to her patio where her plants are.

Cressida chuckles watching him get the hose. Chloe had been acting giddy everyday last week, asking her indirect questions about her weekend plans, asking if she’s nervous. She made it seem like she knew where Cressida was going, so why was she surprised to see her home now?

The Big Day

Ashton already predicted this day would be horrible, but he didn’t imagine it happening right when he woke up. His coffee machine broke so he couldn’t have his first cup before stopping at his favorite coffee shop. Turns out that was also closed for renovations, so he messaged Phil to please pick up a new coffee machine and bring two coffees with him.

When Ashton arrived at his office building the computer systems were down which was just fantastic considering he’d be doing a video conference call with Japan at ten. He already wanted today to be over before he stepped in the elevator that seemed to take longer than normal to fly up to his office.

He had a migraine, and it was barely nine o’clock in the morning. Normally he’d be calling the hotel confirming everything. He hated today.

Phil comes rushing in with three coffees in a carrying tray and a box containing Ashton’s new coffeemaker.

“You’re a lifesaver, Phil, truly,” Ashton commends taking a drink of the first coffee. He already feels his headache subsiding. “Can we go over my meetings for today?”

“Yes, let me just…pull it up on my tablet here. Okay, so…”

Ashton listens to Phil rattle off times and names of who he will be dealing with today. While Phil talks, Ashton fixes his desk then opens his drawer and sees that rectangular box. The company hasn’t sent anything back so maybe they finally got the message, but now he wants to see what this bottle looks like.

He cuts it open, humming along to Phil, then sees another box. It’s maroon with a gold band running along the sides. It’s thin and that intrigues him, so he lifts the lid. Nestled inside is not a whisky bottle but the bracelet he bought Cressida three Valentine’s Days ago. Beneath it was a folded note that read, ‘meet me at our special place Friday. It’s important. I don’t think I can go through with it.”

“Phil, what the hell is this?” Ashton holds up the bracelet that is now looped around his fingers. Phil’s mouth is open like a fish out of water. “Phil?”

“I—you—didn’t you open that a few months ago?”

“No, I thought this was the whisky bottle from that company who keeps trying to partner with me. I told you to send them a message I wasn’t interested, but this is clearly not a whisky bottle. So…why is this in my possession?”

“You didn’t open it until now? I thought you did! That’s why I sent—oh no,” he groans and slumps into the chair in front of Ashton’s desk.

“Phil, what the hell is going on?” Ashton drops Cressida’s bracelet onto his desk, it clanks on the glass top.

“Chloe sent this from Miss James because she said Miss James was having reservations about the wedding. That she still loves you and…and you were supposed to meet at The Golden Lion, and you told me to send something back, so I sent your gold ring with a note saying you’ll be there. And oh my God, I thought you went last month but it didn’t end well so you were still angry this whole time,” Phil explains.

“But Cressida herself didn’t send this?”

“No, it was Chloe because she knows Miss James keeps the bracelet on all the time,” Phil pinches the bridge of his nose. “It was supposed to bring you back together and by me sending your gold ring…it was a sign you wanted her back, too.”

Ashton stares at Phil in complete surprise. He could have met up with Cressida a month ago and made up and they would probably be together right now.

“Did she go? Was she there? What did Chloe say?”

“I don’t—she didn’t go. Chloe said she went to some lake house with Gavin and now…she probably didn’t even get your ring…”

“What ring are you talking about?”

“Your gold one, with the ruby inside.”

Ashton’s mind is racing. His heart is about to combust. He’s connecting the dots and finding new ones that didn’t add up but make complete sense now. Why Phil seemed so excited that Ashton wanted to send a reply back. How he thought he misplaced his ring at the hotel but never got around to calling about it when really, it was delivered to Cressida but if she didn’t go to the hotel either…

“She never got the ring,” Ashton concludes and Phil wipes at the sweat on his brow.

“What?”

“You’re one hundred percent certain that Cressida received my ring?”

“I wouldn’t say one hundred—”

“Call Chloe now and find out.”

Phil scrambles for his phone, dropping it on the floor twice before pressing it to his ear. Ashton touches the bracelet before him, images of Cressida flashes in his eyes.

“Okay, thank you Chlo, yes I’ll tell him…yes…yes…well, it’s too late now. All right…yep…okay bye,” Phil ends the call then smiles at Ashton in relief. “She never got it. There’s still time to stop this wedding, sir.”

“If she went on a weekend trip with Gavin then she has to be over—”

“No! no, she’s not over you and you’re not over her!” Phil suddenly shouts jumping from his chair. “I’m sorry sir, if this gets me fired then so be it, but Chloe and I hated seeing you two act like you did. Your company will survive if you both were disowned but I highly doubt that would happen. We’ve seen you two together for six years. We couldn’t let you throw this away for some stupid arranged marriage.”

“Phil—”

“You have to stop this wedding. Two people who should be together and aren’t…that’s the worst kind of love story ever. I know your families are arch nemesis but that was how many years ago? And it’s not even your fight to begin with. Chloe and I think you should be together and it’s our faults that our plan failed but you can stop it today. Right now. I can—”

“Phil!” Ashton shouts causing Phil to shut up. “You aren’t fired. And this was very kind of you and Chloe to do but if Cressida didn’t personally—”

“She’s been on the fence about this wedding for the whole year! You have to go to her, sir, you just have to.”

Ashton sighs and plays with the bracelet. He thinks of the past year, how it wasn’t the best by any means because Cressida wasn’t in his life. She’s always said from the beginning that she didn’t care if she was disowned, that she’s only wanted him, and Ashton’s only wanted her. She’s the love of his entire life. Luke has told him to crash the wedding and he might just do that.

“Where is the wedding?”

Cressida is pacing in the bridal suite of the church. Her hair and makeup are finished, her dress is fastened to the very last button, and her heart has been in her stomach since she woke up this morning. Her hands feel clammy and she’s trying to focus on her breathing by taking deep shallow breaths. Her bridesmaids are drinking mimosas and enjoying themselves while the guests arrive in the large church.

The bridesmaids are discussing the honeymoon and placing friendly bets on if she’ll be pregnant upon the return. Cressida mentions she needs some air and moves into the hallway to continue her pacing. The door opens and expecting her mother, she starts defending herself.

“I’m fine, mother, I just need a minute to collect myself.”

“It’s me,” Chloe says, frowning at her boss and close friend. Cressida relaxes and steps in front of her, smoothing the skirt of her dress, her hands are shaking. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes, it’s just jitters. But I…I keep thinking of Ashton,” she whispers his name. It’s been so long since she spoke it out loud.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out at The Golden Lion, but you seemed so happy when you came home with Gavin I thought you were actually happy with him now.”

“What do you mean you’re sorry it didn’t work out at The Golden Lion?”

“I…what?” Chloe shakes her head in confusion. “You were supposed to meet Ashton at the hotel last month, he sent his gold ring and a note to go along with the one I sent him…with your bracelet.”

“My bracelet? Chloe, I didn’t get a ring. What is going on?”

“I placed the box on your desk and when you left for the weekend you seemed so happy, so I thought you were going to The Golden Lion to make up or runaway with him. I came by that Sunday to see how it went but you were with Gavin, so I thought you’d made your decision.”

“But I didn’t send him anything,” Cressida shakes her head slowly.

“That’s because I did,” Chloe fixes her fingers together in nerves. “I came up with the idea and Phil agreed to do it as well, we hated seeing you both so upset. We tried to fix it.”

“If I would have gotten his ring I wouldn’t have left with Gavin,” Cressida’s shoulders fall in sadness.

She starts pacing again, thinking of the good thing Chloe and Phil tried to do but fate seemed to have other plans. Did Ashton show up at the hotel? Was his heart broken even more when she didn’t show up even though she never got his ring and note?

“It’s almost time,” the wedding coordinator announces bustling down the hallway. She opens the door to the suite and orders the girls to get out and into line. “Follow me Miss James and I will make you a Missus.”

Cressida gulps but follows her. Chloe reaches out and grabs her hand, gives her a gentle squeeze. Cressida relaxes a little knowing that Chloe is with her through this as well. Gavin is a great guy; he’s been a good and patient friend with her through the wedding planning. She’ll grow to love him as time goes on, right?

Suddenly she’s in front of the doors and it’s almost her turn to walk down the aisle. How did the other girls go so fast? How does she not remember seeing them?

“You can do this,” Chloe assures her, but Cressida is very doubtful.

The music changes and she stops Chloe from walking down. Chloe looks at her in alarm.

“I need to speak with Gavin, please. Can you bring him to me?”

Chloe nods. “Yes, yes of course. I’ll be right back.”

Chloe opens the doors then slips inside running along the sides of the pews. The guests watch her run her way up to the alter where Gavin is waiting in a crisp suit, his hair perfectly styled, and a large marigold fastened to his lapel. When he sees Chloe running, he knows what that means.

“Is she all right?” Gavin asks when Chloe reaches him.

“I don’t know, I’m not sure. She wants to speak with you, I’m sorry but that’s all I know.”

“It’s okay, I’ll speak with her,” he nods then turns to the pastor. “It’ll be just a few more moments. The bride wishes to speak with me, I’m sure everything’s fine. I’ll be right back.”

The pastor stares after him in bewilderment as Gavin follows Chloe back down the aisle. He smiles and nods at the guests trying to look reassuring. He knows what this looks like, but his mind is focused on Cressida. When he spots her, she’s grasping onto a table, her knuckles white.

“Cress?” he touches her shoulder carefully so as not to scare her. She flinches anyway then turns to Gavin, her face pale and eyes glossy. “Talk to me.”

“I can’t do this, Gavin, I’m so sorry,” Cressida sniffles. She takes Gavin’s hands, and he feels the ring fall into his palm. “You’ve been so kind and patient with me, and you’re a wonderful man but I don’t love you and I don’t think I ever would love you how you properly should be. You deserve more than a woman who’s hung up on another man. You deserve to be loved the right way. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Shh, shh,” he swipes the tears from her face and forces a smile. “I know. It’s all right.”

“It is?”

“I have grown feelings for you, and I know you’ve been trying to find some for me and to be honest, I hate seeing you try so hard. You’re meant to be with Ashton, not me. Go to him.”

“I should tell everyone inside—”

“I’ll worry about them,” he shakes his head, “and I’ll tell our parents. I’ll take care of everything.”

“I’m a horrible person,” she cries, “this is all because of me.”

“Loving someone doesn’t make you horrible. I’ll be fine Cressida, I’d rather have you as a friend than nothing at all.”

“Thank you,” she whispers then flings herself into his arms. He hugs her tightly, breathing in her hair and holds her as tight as he can. She pulls away to look up at him. “I will be a little bit jealous who you end up with. She’ll need my approval.”

“That’s nice to know,” he laughs then kisses her forehead. “Go find Irwin.”

Cressida takes a deep breath, stretches on her toes to kiss his cheek then lifts up her skirt and runs to the main entrance of the church where Chloe is already waiting with her bag and phone.

“How did you--?”

“I had a feeling,” Chloe shrugs. “The car is coming around.”

“Thank you, you’re the best assistant and friend I could have ever asked for.”

Cressida bustles her dress as best she can in the back of her car, her driver is a little bewildered but then slams on the gas to get to The Golden Lion. Her heart is thundering in her chest, her left hand feels weightless without the ring, and she hopes Ashton is there. Should she call him? Just then her phone buzzes and it’s a text from Chloe.

‘He was on his way to the church, but I contacted Phil and diverted his course. You should get there around the same time. Good luck :)’

Cressida lets out a shaky breath and suddenly she’s very nervous again. The hotel is twenty minutes away from the church. What will she say? What will he say? Will he take her back? She’s trying to stay hopeful but what if he sees her and decides it’s better they’re not together?

It’s a very long drive where she has time to recollect their time together. Meeting that night before graduation, the endless mornings and evenings in Europe, secret glances and very well constructed touches at parties they both needed to attend, Bora Bora, each weekend at The Golden Lion. She’s loved him completely forever and she can only hope he’ll want her the same way.

She’s approaching the hotel, the building shines in the golden afternoon, the mane of the lion sparkling. She struggles getting out of the car with her dress and makes her way up the steps and sees the back of Ashton. He’s peering into one of the rooms where they’ve shared many parties together. His hair is longer in the back and he looks broader in the shoulders.

Cressida can’t speak so she walks towards him. Just as she’s about to open her mouth, he turns around and she forgets to breathe. His scruff has turned into a full-grown beard and it’s very well kept, it makes him look even more handsome. Standing in front of him she feels more at peace than she has in months. She feels whole and complete.

“Hi,” he breathes, his hazel eyes scanning over her in her dress. “You’re…you’re an absolute vision, angel.”

“Did you really send me your ring? Because I never got it, but I swear, I would have been here last month. I’ve never stopped loving you and I never will. I called it off. The whole thing. And if I get kicked out of the business then I’ll start my own and we can build our own partnership. It’s always been you—”

Not being able to stand it anymore, Ashton gathers her in is arms and kisses her deeply. His arms wrap around the home he’s been missing for 365 days. His lips are kissing the lips he’ll never get tired of kissing. Cressida’s fingers twist into his hair kissing him back with just as much enthusiasm. It’s like she can finally breathe. Their love is bursting at the seams.

“I’ll never stop loving you either, Cressida,” he mumbles rubbing his nose against hers lovingly. He stares into her eyes. “I don’t care about the ring or the bracelet or our bad timing, what matters is that we’re both here now. And I’m never letting you walk out the doors unless I’m right next to you.”

“I love you,” she smiles and strokes his beard, it’s soft under her fingers. “I’ve wanted to call so many times. You look different, I love this beard.”

“Yeah? I was thinking of shaving it,” he grins.

“Don’t,” she shakes her head, “not yet.”

“Although I’m glad to see you, what about your wedding?”

“Gavin’s taking care of it, he’s a really good man, Ashton. And he’s going to tell our parents the wedding is off, but I want to tell them about you and me. I don’t want to love you behind closed doors anymore.”

“And I’ll be right by your side. Luke made a very good point about our ‘disownment’ and we won’t be losing our companies.”

“It’s settled then,” she sighs but pulls away from him. Ashton looks forlorn from the sudden distance. “There’s only one thing left to do.”

“What’s that?” he asks trailing his fingers down her arm so he can latch onto her own. He’s not letting her go.

Her eyes dance, the gold in them sparkling. “Help me out of my dress?”

They kiss freely in the elevator as they ascend to their floor, to their room. But it feels different because of their decision to finally come clean about their relationship. Ashton’s hands are frantic as he pulls her from her dress, her lips never leave his skin as they fall onto their bed.

Murmured words of love are pressed to skin, their fingers grasp and lock together as they reconnect. This feels different too, it’s not a secret anymore and they never will be again. Whatever happens after they leave this room, they’ll handle it together.

In a rush they come together but they’re nowhere near done. Ashton kisses all over her chest, her neck, her throat, and her hands roam over the dips and valleys of his body. She finds the maps only she knows; touches the freckles she’s discovered time and time again.

“My love for you is pure gold,” he sighs before slipping his tongue in her mouth. “Beautiful, rare…”

“And precious,” she smiles rolling him over onto his back. “It’s me and you, baby.”

They fall and crash together, the golden sun setting on their love. It’s a promise for a golden morning, a new beginning and the start of their life being shared into the light. No more secrets, just Ashton and Cressida loving each other beautifully, gently, passionately. A golden love for the ages.

Taglist: @calpalirwin @myloverboyash @loveroflrh @cxddlyash @princesslrh @spicylftv @notinthesameguey @itjustkindahappenedreally @calumance @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sarcastically-defensive17 @another-lonely-heart @devilatmydoor @thatscooibaby @suchalonelysunflower @dead-and-golden @mymindwide @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @karajaynetoday @quasighost @i-like-5sos @creampiecashton @calpops @littledrummeraussie @sexgodashton @f-mu @mystic-232

#lias fic #lovers in a song #ashton irwin angst #ashton irwin smut #ashton angst #ashton writing #ashton 5sos writing

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stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale · 3 years

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Top 5 Characters in ANF Who Would’ve Made Better Love Interests Than Kate

There are a lot of mixed opinions on TWDG: A New Frontier. Some people like it, some don’t, and some people hate it so much that they refuse to accept as canon in the series. Extreme? Yeah, but hey, to each their own.

One thing that always bothers me when I do my replay of the series and this game is how much Kate is forced on us and even kinda punishes us for not romancing her. Like, no offense, but I’m not really interested in dating my sister-in-law, especially when her husband is actually alive, and even if she wasn’t my brother’s wife, she’s still not a character I have chemistry with, y’know?

And every time I play, I can’t help but think that almost anyone else in ANF would’ve been a better romantic interest for Javi over Kate, so I decided to make that the list for this week.

I would’ve loved more choices and for the game to actually show Javi’s canon bisexuality outside of a flirty line with Jesus that most players didn’t even pick. Just sayin’.

I do want to note that if you enjoy the romance with Kate and the relationship between her and Javi, that’s totally cool. Just because I don’t like it doesn’t mean you can’t ship them, y’know? I’m not here to try to change your mind or tell you you’re bad for shipping something I don’t because I’m not a dingus. You do what makes you happy, friend. :)

Besides, going off the stats, a majority of players romanced her so if anything, I’m the weirdo. This list is just for fun!

Before we start, just wanna say a big thank you to @pi-creates for helping out with this one! Really appreciate it! Now, here are my top 5 characters who, in my opinion, would’ve made better love interests for Javier than Kate.

5. Jane if the writers didn’t turn her into a dead potato

Oh man, you should see your face right now.

Wait, wait, stop! Before you click outta here in a huff with your “Kenny good Jane bad” grunts and come yell at me, just hear me out-- this entry is mostly a joke and the other four on this list are serious, okay?

I needed someone to put at #5 and after talking over some options and going back and forth.... Jane came up as a joke and then kind of made the list. Because really, I thought about it. I was like, “Would I really rather have dingdong “whatever happens stay out of it” potato face Jane as a love interest over Kate? Do I dislike Kate as an option that much?” and Pi and I talked about this for a while and yeah.... yeah I would actually.

When I said anyone but Kate, I guess I really meant anyone.

Trust me, I know, I’m just as surprised. I guess this really says a lot about my feelings for Kate. I didn’t know I disliked her this much either.

But for fun, let’s entertain this idea of the writers NOT pulling the ol’ character assassination on Jane and she made it to Richmond with Clementine and AJ because--

Jane: "One time I ate glass because I was drunk and thought it was sugar."

Javier: "I gambled on my own baseball matches and disgraced myself for money."

Jane: “Well, I dragged my little sister around with me after everything went to shit until I finally gave her what she wanted and left her to die.”

Javier: “I wasn’t there when my dad was fighting cancer and when I finally showed up, I was too late and he was already dead, then he turned and I bashed his skull in with a piece of wood.”

Jane: “I shot a dude’s dick off once.”

Javier: “Oof. I insulted an old lady’s cake and then shot her eye out.”

Jane: “I screwed a guy when I was supposed to be securing a place for some lady to have her baby and it resulted in the death of a teenage girl.”

Javier: “I screwed my brother’s wife.”

Jane: “...”

Javier: “In my defense, I thought he was dead.”

Jane: “That’s fair.”

Clementine, exasperated and emo: “Oh my god.”

....I mean... we might be onto something here, c’mon--

Okay, now onto the more legit entries.

4. Conrad

Now listen... I know, okay? I know. I know this one can be seen as a bit problematic considering the fact that Conrad, in his grief and anger over Francine’s death, held a gun to Gabe’s head and threatened Javi and Clementine.... plus Javi can literally murder him.

...and if you don’t do anything, Conrad with murder both Gabe and Javi and you’ll get a “YOU ARE DEAD” screen...

But we don’t talk about that because it’s not canon.

I know, but listen... I’m allowed to have ships that are difficult, as are you, and this is my list so... there.

If Conrad was a love interest that’s the route I’d take because I love him and I think a relationship between him and Javi could’ve been so damn good if properly done.

I just find Conrad to be an interesting character with a great arc that you only get to see if you don’t shoot him... which is what most people did, so they missed out. And like, I get it, I get why y’all shot him but maybe next time you play, you could consider not doing that?

So here’s the thing, Javi and Conrad share something-- they both lost loved ones because of shithead Badger. Javi is heartbroken after Mariana’s death, Conrad is devastated after Francine’s death, and they both handle that in different ways. Conrad becomes so focused on revenge and getting into Richmond, that he’s willing to threaten two kids in order to get what he wants but the thing is... that’s not him.

He even says so himself when you keep him alive-- he genuinely apologizes for what happened and will end up coming back to save Javi’s life in ep4. The potential for this to work as a relationship? It’s there... the only problem is that my confidence in the writers handling something like this is low, but let’s pretend they used their time and brains wisely-- ya got yourself a classic slow-burn friends to enemies to friends again to lovers romance and I’m here for it.

3. Paul “Jesus” Monroe

A lot of people really like the idea of Javi and Jesus and wanted him to be a romantic option, and I don’t blame them. They have chemistry in the scenes they share, and Javi can straight up flirt with him at the end of the season, and it’s super cute... of course, I wish we had more but Telltale was too scared to actually show Javi’s bisexuality outside of that one line, I guess.

But, anyway, this ship has a lot of sweet fanart that we love to see.

The only real reason he isn’t higher on the list is that Jesus is apparently already in a relationship at this point? I guess? From what I’ve been told? Listen, I don’t read the comics, I don’t watch the show, I just go off what y’all tell me. Plus, I believe Kent joked about Jesus having someone in each community during the commentaries so like... that’s a thing?

But let’s pretend that we throw that all out and Jesus is single and ready to be in a committed relationship with our boy Javier here. Like I mentioned above, these characters have a believable chemistry from the moment they meet and I think that has a lot to do with how charming they are by themselves. Those different charms work well together.

I also enjoy how much of a badass Jesus is when it comes to fighting off walkers. Javi has a lot of force that you feel with each hit, while Jesus almost has a lighter but just as impactful hit? I dunno if I’m explaining that well-- basically, Javi strong but Jesus can bounce off walls and do cool shit with weapons that feels effortless.

It’s a combo of fighting styles that I love, so these two fighting together? *chef kiss*

There’s also Jesus’ morality and how he wants to see Javier make “good” decisions, y’know? Sure, he gets pissy if you murder the shit outta Badger, which is mostly just Telltale showing you consequences, but I get it. He sees a lot of potential in Javi, more than Javi himself sees. And unlike certain characters, Jesus doesn’t completely hate you for doing something he doesn’t agree with to a frustrating degree.

If the game gave us the option to pursue Jesus as a love interest, he and Javier would’ve been such a badass couple with a sweet romance.

2. Eleanor

This one might come as a surprise to those of you who know my feelings about Eleanor... as in, I don’t like her. I never forgave her for the shit she pulled in ep4/ep5, and now every time I replay ANF and she shows up? Well, all I really hear is the hissing of a snake.

But, putting those feelings aside and looking at her from a different perspective, I do believe that she would’ve made for a better love interest than Kate assuming that if you romanced her, she wouldn’t rat everyone out to Joan, y’know?

Hell, most people believed that Eleanor was going to be the second option with Kate back when the episodes were coming out, and for good reason. The chemistry is there in the flirting, and their relationship could’ve been super cute.

Of course, Eleanor being a love interest also comes with things becoming awkward with Tripp, but c’mon-- as awkward as pursuing a relationship with your sister-in-law and never telling your brother after finding out he’s alive? Nah, I don’t think so.

Plus, for the first three episodes, Eleanor’s not a bad character. In fact, she’s pretty damn likable, she deeply cares for the group and wants to use her medical skills for good.

And you can tell through the dialogue that she and Javi are fond of one another... well, I guess until they shove the Kate thing in our faces and suddenly Eleanor’s like “oh, I thought you two were a thing??” like... Eleanor, we were flirting and I totally rejected all of Kate’s advances last episode I mean??

If she were a love interest, instead of turning on us, she would... y’know, not do that and instead help us out. We have a couple cute moments like back in ep1 where she’s patching Javi up but this time with a smooch? Super cute.

1. Tripp

Okay but seriously, why wasn’t Tripp a love interest?

He’s the perfect option. I just-- uuuughhhhh.

They already have a great believable bromance, so why not take it a step further and make it an official romance? Oh wait, that’s right, ya gotta kill off 95% of your determinant characters, I forgot. Sorry Tripp.

Well, fuck that. Out of all the other adult characters, Javi has the most chemistry with this man. I believe them more than I believe him and Kate. Sure, they got off to a rocky start the progression of their relationship felt natural with every episode.

That scene where Tripp is confiding in Javi about his feelings for Eleanor? And in turn, Javi can confide in him about Kate? One of my favorite scenes. I only wish there was an option to tell Tripp he can do much better and set the path for the romance.

Seriously, I’d probably feel more okay about the romance with Kate if Tripp were the second option. That way, Kate wouldn’t be so forced onto the player, the writers confirming Javi’s bisexuality on Twitter or whatever wouldn’t feel like they were trying to earn points without actually showing representation, and we would’ve gotten the beauty that is Javier and Tripp.

Also, then Tripp could make it to the end without dying that dumb death of his that no one likes.

And if I haven’t convinced you yet, then look at these swaps Pi did--

--and tell me they aren’t fucking perfect?? You can’t, because look at them.

Where’s my Tripp route, Telltale??

---

Honorable Mentions

-If I wasn’t sticking to just ANF characters, Luke probably would’ve made the list because that’s apparently a popular combo and I dig it. -Pudding... because Javi fucking loves pudding. -Honestly Max probably would’ve been a better love interest than Kate oof--

---

So, whattya think? Do you agree with this top 5 or nah? Do you have a favorite Javi ship? Let me know, I’d love to hear from you. :D

Next week’s T5F Top 5 Times Lee was the Absolute Best

#twdg t5f #twdg javi #twdg javier #twdg kate #twdg gabe #twdg mariana #twdg clementine #twdg tripp #twdg conrad #twdg eleanor #twdg jane #twdg kenny #twdg jesus

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itspufflehuff · 3 years

Text

Pranksters - Bucky Imagine

Summary: When plans get cancelled you and Bucky are left alone in the Avengers tower on Valentines Day. In an attempt to make the most of your night you and Bucky place some pranks on the other Avengers.

MATERLIST // TAGLIST

Happy Valentines Day everyone! I hope you all have an amazing and safe day with your friends, family, and/or partners! This is one of three imagines I will be posting today.

As requested by @sebstanfan123 thank you for the idea I had fun writing this! Warning there will be talks of drinking and getting drunk. Thank you for reading my story, enjoy!

Word Count: 2,392

~~~~

Bucky thought he and Steve could spend this lonely Valentine's day together drinking some of Thors Asgardian liquor and reminiscing over the good old days.

You were hoping to spend the day with Natasha making fun of people at the bar.

But of course, nothing went as planned. Steve just had to decide to move on and go out with Sharon and Natasha agreed to babysit for Clint while he and his wife spent a nice night together.

It was just you and Bucky left alone in the Avengers tower with nothing to do but be miserable.

When you walked into the common room you were surprised to see Bucky sitting on the couch with the remote in his hand aimlessly surfing the channels. You stopped at the entrance of the room, "What are you doing here?"

He stopped pressing buttons on the remote turning his head over to you with an amused look, "Well hello to you too."

Realizing how rude you sounded you quickly explained, "I'm sorry I didn't mean it like that I was just expecting you to be with Steve somewhere else." You made your way over to the couch and plopped down next to him.

"Yeah, until he bailed on me for Sharon. I never did that to him when I was the hot one." He said half-joking but half-serious.

"Nat bailed on me too. Although her reason is not as scandalous as yours."

"Now look at us. Dying of boredom when we could have been having fun."

"You know... we could still have fun." You suggested mischievously.

"What did you have in mind?" He was a bit scared of what your response would be. He always liked you and thought you were very beautiful but he was still getting used to being in this new world free of Hydra. On top of that, he hadn't been with a woman since 1942.

"I don't know, anything! I don't want to waste the rest of our night moping around feeling sorry for ourselves."

You sat in silence for a second until an idea popped into your head and you basically jumped, "We could pull pranks! We'll leave harmless surprises for everyone in the morning."

He thought for a second then nodded, "I like it. So what will we do?"

"I don't know I came up with the idea I thought you could pitch some pranks."

He chuckled shaking his head, "Um ok. How about taking the pillows out and filling the cases with tissue paper instead?"

You laughed, "That's a good one. Oh! We can put bubble wrap under the toilet seats so when they sit it starts popping."

"But guys pee standing?" He laughed.

"Yeah, but they eventually have to sit down? We can tape a line of bubble wrap to the bottom so they won't really see it and when they're ready to put the seat down it stays in place."

"Ok let's do it." He stood up excitedly then turning the tv off.

The both of you made your way over to the supply closet where you assumed the items you needed would be, but to your disappointment, there were only cleaning supplies. "Maybe they will be in the workshop?" Bucky suggested. Once again, nothing.

You checked three more places before giving up, "You mean to tell me we live in probably the most expensive building in New York with one of the richest men alive but we don't have bubble wrap or tissue paper?" Bucky let out exasperated.

"There is a convenience store down the street well just check there." You laughed at his annoyance. The both of you quickly got ready, excited to get started on your pranks. Bucky pulled on his signature boots, sweater, and baseball cap as you grabbed your coat and wallet then slipping on your shoes.

At the store, you and Bucky grabbed a basket and walked the isles like people on a mission. On your way to the aisle with all the wrapping supplies, you passed the baking section and an idea came to mind, "We should make raisin cookies and make them look like chocolate chip cookies!"

"What's wrong with raisins?" He asked faking offense.

"Nothing old man, it's just people nowadays prefer chocolate." You joked. He rolled his eyes laughing but put the cookie mix in your basket. That's when the cellophane caught his eye and he had an idea of his own, "What if we right this around the tops of their body wash, shampoo, and toothpaste then put the lids back on. That way when they try using it nothing comes out." You laughed nodding your head, "That's a good one Buck."

You two then grabbed what you really went to the store for and at the checkout Bucky refused to let you pay. Using his metal arm he held you back and with the other, he gave the cashier some cash, "Keep the change and receipt. Thank you." He took the bag and began walking out without you. Catching up to him you said, "That's not fair to use your strong arm against me!" You knew he hated his metal arm whenever he was doing non Avenger related tasks out in public so you made sure not to say 'metal arm' and instead settled for 'strong arm'.

"Don't hate the player, hate the game." He winked at you.

You laughed, "What?"

"I have no idea but I'm excited to get back and get started on this." He smiled lifting the bag up.

When you entered the common room once again you both ran over to the island and dropped all the contents of the bag out on it giggling like children, "Ok you get started on the bubble wrap and I'll put the cellophane on all their bottles. When you're done we'll meet back here." You both ran around the building into everybody's bathroom, except for each other's of course.

Seemingly at the same time, you meet up at the island with red cheeks unable to stop the giggles. You picked up the packs of tissue paper, "Should we tag team their pillows?"

"Let's do it." He smiled playfully. You both ran into Tony's room getting started on taking the pillows out of their cases. Time seemed to fly as you two ran into everyone's room switching out their comfy pillows for tissue paper. When you finished you both laid horizontally on Steve's bed for a break.

"I feel like we're missing something," Bucky said looking up at the ceiling.

"Cookies."

"Right," he chuckled lightly, "My disgusting raisin cookies."

"I never said disgusting, " you defended, "I only said people prefer chocolate."

You both made your way over to the kitchen. Bucky helped you bring out all of the materials needed to bake the cookies as you grabbed the ingredients. "You know what we need?" You said suddenly?"

Bucky's eyebrows furrowed but he kept his smile, "What's that?"

"Drinks. And music."

"You are most definitely right." He laughed looking away, "I'll grab the drinks while you get started?" He suggested.

"What just because I'm a woman I have to stay in the kitchen?" You turned serious. Bucky's face dropped as he began stumbling over his words. You started laughing, "I'm messing with you I don't care."

"That was mean." He said still scared but you could see the smile trying to fight its way onto his face.

"Don't hate the player, hate the game." You winked at him.

Bucky went into the room Tony keeps all their alcohol and grabbed a bottle of wine, some brandy, and one of Thor's Asgardian liquor. When he went back to where you were he heard music playing, "Is this Tony's playlist?" He asked

You spun around to face him, "Yeah, I figured we'd start with music you're more familiar with, and since Tony is always blasting his stuff during training I thought this was the safe option."

As you mixed the ingredients together Bucky grabbed some glasses, "Brandy or wine?"

"White or red?" You asked keeping your back to him.

"Uhh- White."

"I'll have some wine."

He served both of you some wine but adding a drop of Thor's liquor to his glass.

For the next two hours, you both danced and sang along to the music as you made the cookies. You would've finished baking them quicker but after you had the cookies in the oven for thirty minutes you realized no one turned it on. Laughing at each other you took the cookies out to heat the oven.

The both of you were had gotten tipsy quicker than either of you expected. Maybe it had something to do with you switching out sips of wine for the whole bottle of brandy and Bucky swapping his glass for the bottle of Asgardian liquor. As the cookies baked in the oven you gasped and looked over to Bucky, "Wouldn't it be so funny if we switched out the sugar for salt!"

"That would be perfect! They'll all be so grossed out when they have their morning coffee." He laughed. You were lucky that both the salt and sugar were in jars that were labeled on the lid so all you needed to do was swap lids. You both laughed thinking you were so sneaky.

When the cookies finished you neatly placed them on a plate then wrapped them in cellophane to keep them fresh. Bucky made his way over to the couch holding onto Thor's liquor like it was the love of his life. You took your phone out connecting it to the speaker and started playing one of your old playlists from Spotify. The truth was you didn't even know which playlist you pressed on, you just needed a change in music.

Taylor Swift's 'You Belong to Me' started playing over the speakers, "I love this song!" You shouted to Bucky. You sang along word for word. It might not have been good singing but you didn't mess up. Next was Justin Bieber's 'Baby' then, Best Song Ever by One Direction not missing a single lyric.

Bucky looked at you from the couch amused, "I don't know any of these songs but you're doing great!"

As the songs went on Bucky got up to dance along with you. He took your hand twirling you around as you sang along. It was the most fun either of you had in a while.

Eventually, you both got tired and fell back onto the couch. Bucky had his arm around you so you laid your head on his shoulder shutting your eyes. "This was amazing, why don't we hang out more?" He asked looking down at you.

"I have no idea but we should do this more often."

"Yeah, we should." He smiled softly at you even though your eyes were closed so you couldn't see. Slowly his eyes shut as you both drifted off to sleep on the couch.

Neither of you woke up when everyone came home late at night. Steve was the first to arrive. When he saw you and Bucky sleeping on the couch together a chuckle escaped his lips as he shook his head smiling. He grabbed one of the blankets that happened to be nearby and placed it over the both of you. However, when he went into his room and laid on his bed to sleep he almost got back up and yanked the blanket off both of you. As soon as his head hit the pillow it sank and he heard crinkling. He tried another pillow and the same thing happened.

Great, first my toothpaste isn't working now this.

He searched for his pillows but couldn't find them anywhere so instead he used a shirt and fell asleep like that.

In the morning Bucky, for the first time in forever, was hungover and so were you. Everyone was having their breakfast and coffee when you both woke up.

"Morning. Had a busy night?" Tony asked.

The light was too bright for you both. As if he read your mind Bucky threw the blanket over your heads.

"Come on. Some coffee will help with that pesky hangover." Tony said.

You and Bucky groaned but dragged yourselves to the table where two fresh cups of coffee were waiting for you two. You were about to take a sip when Tony stopped you, "Sugar?"

"Huh?" You asked, "Oh sugar. Yes please, Bucky want some?" He just nodded his head too tired to speak.

You got up to grab the jar of sugar from the cabinet then walked it over to the table. You poured a scoop into your coffee then Bucky poured some in his as well.

The second you both took a sip you spit it right back out, "What the hell is this?" You asked.

"Oh, you don't remember?" Tony asked with fake shock, "I guess you two pranksters thought it would be hilarious to switch the labels on the sugar and salt. Of course, I'm a genius and always make sure everything is labeled right so I figured it out right away. You're the only people who had to suffer with salt in their coffee."

You and Bucky looked at each other forgetting all about the sugar and salt. It was a last-minute drunken decision you both made. You both looked down ashamed then Bucky perked his head up, "How'd you all sleep?" He smirked. Beside him, you giggled.

~~~~

The both of you went on with your days as usual. You each went to your rooms to take a refreshing shower before heading to the training room. When you walked in Bucky was working on the punching bag. As soon as he saw you he stopped. "Hey Y/N."

You smiled at him, "Bucky, lovely seeing you again. "

"I could say the same thing." He whispered to himself. Then he shyly made his way over to you, "So, Y/N, last night was fun and I was wondering, well hoping, if you would like to go out tonight?" He rubbed the back of his neck mentally kicking himself. He was never this shy or nervous with women before. He was always confident and could get any woman he wanted. Now he was unsure and nervous.

You could tell how nervous he was so you took his arm, "I'd love to."

#winter soilder #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #james buchanan barnes #marvel #mcu #sebastian stan imagine #mcu imagine #avengers #imagine #fanfic

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ahundredtimesover · 3 years

Text

Inevitable (02) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader (ft. ot6)

Genre/Tags: exes au, parents au, baseball player!JK; angst, fluff, smut (18+)

Series Warnings: foul language, alcohol consumption, minor character death, explicit sexual content in future chapters (oral, unprotected sex but be safe please!)

Chapter Word count: 7.2k

A/N: So appreciative of your love for this story! I’m quite nervous with this one because I had to make changes last minute so I hope you still enjoy it. Also, you can message me if you want to be part of the taglist (or if I missed tagging you)!

Series Masterlist || Previous || Next

“Thank you again, Mr. Jeon. Quite frankly, this still feels surreal but we’re so glad you’re back.”

Jungkook bows at the man, one of the executives of the Doosan Bears, one he’d just had a meeting with, which followed an interview with a sports writer.

For the past week, Jungkook’s days have been filled with meeting and talking to many people, forcing smiles and making conversations that quite frankly tire him but he welcomes this, knowing that any beat of silence will just force his mind to settle on you. And his pain. And his anger.

The man stops him in the hallway to point at a frame of the elder Jeon holding up the team’s 1999 championship trophy.

“Hopefully you’ll have one, too, and we’ll place it right next to this,” he says, a statement that Jungkook’s been hearing in a variety of forms the past few days of interviews and appearances.

It’s different this time because his father had achieved so many things back here, a national hero if people wanted to stretch it. Here, Jungkook has to live up to expectations, which many people believe he’ll exceed. His father, a good player and an even better leader, had been loved by many in the sports world, and it’s an honor they get to watch Jungkook play in the flesh, reminiscent of the man that many adored.

In the US, they didn’t know his father, so Jungkook was able to pave his own path there, make a name for himself guided only by the thought and dream of his hero, and not living in his shadow. It’s a dream they shared and one he’d achieved.

But for the first time, it doesn’t comfort Jungkook. For the first time, it angers him. It’s that dream that took you away from him, that took Jungwon away from him. It’s this dream that essentially broke his heart in ways he never imagined.

Everyone is quiet as they absorb everything that Jungkook has said. Since that day at your apartment, he’d been radio silent when it came to his friends, but he’s here at Jin’s loft now, with Jimin whom he’s still cold towards, and Yoongi and Hoseok who complete the group, as they’re Jin’s and Namjoon’s friends from college who’d gotten close to the young ones, too.

They’re glad they finally have the time to just be together after a crazy week. Ironically, it’s a somber event. This isn’t how they imagined welcoming the young one home.

They’re incomplete though. By nature of the concern at hand, Taehyung isn’t around; he’d left the group chat anyway so he wouldn’t have known that Jungkook messaged - finally, after a week of bombarding everyone with messages about you only to stop after he stormed out of your apartment. Namjoon is also not here, still not checking their group chat.

“Wow, I can’t believe ___ was pregnant all that time and had been able to keep the kid from us for years,” Hoseok finally speaks up, shock still evident in his voice. He’d been the one most vocal in stating what everyone else was thinking, the rest opting to just shut up and leave the talking to Jungkook, who’s now allowed himself to once again feel all the emotions in the presence of his friends.

They know that very little things get to him - whether they’re external stressors, outside pressure, naysayers, envious people, or school, he’d always been able to manage them.

He rarely gets angry, too, and doesn’t really let negative feelings fester, so Jungkook with a piercing gaze, pursed lips, flared nostrils, and clenched fists, as he is right now, is an unfamiliar sight to them.

And it’s all because of you.

Jungkook never took the very few relationships he had before you seriously; he’d been too focused on the sport ever since he was a kid.

But you captured him immediately and since that day at the field when he’d thrown a baseball and almost hit Taehyung on the arm and you’d shouted at Jungkook relentlessly for being a careless jerk, he knew that he’d want to shut you up with kisses just so you could get mad at him again.

He’d been a cheeky sophomore then, enjoying the bit of popularity he was gaining in Seoul for being an immediate standout of their university’s baseball team - the Pride of Busan, he’d been called - and he hadn’t expected this beautiful woman to almost knock him out for almost hitting her friend, even if Taehyung had been adamant that the hit was several centimeters off.

“I have better aim than that,” Jungkook had told you smugly, and his heart fluttered at the gagging face you made.

He wasn’t usually that bold but he felt it was worth it, especially if it was to see you scowl then try to hide a smile after. It took a few days until you’d given him more than 5 minutes of your time, then another few weeks before you finally agreed to a date, and then just two months to convince you that he was definitely worthy to be something more.

You both knew you’d fallen in love with each other even before either of you said it, the words always catching in your throats whenever you tried, but then he finally did, and he was over the moon when you’d said it back and he’d never been happier.

Even when you walked out that door and out of his life that December evening, he’d held onto you, your lingering presence enough for you to still be his anchor, his love, his guiding light.

He never thought that at one point, he’d beg for that to not be you. Just the thought of you sends him into a spiral, not of heartbreak or despair like before, he reckons that was even better; but of the feeling of resentment and betrayal.

Everyone’s chatter faints into background noise for a while, with Jungkook’s friends saying maybe you’d come back to Seoul only recently, hearing from Namjoon that you stayed in Daejeon with your cousin to work at a tech company. It had been a mystery how none of them caught up sooner, having only seen you twice a year at most and not knowing anything else.

“Ask Jimin,” Jungkook chimes in bitterly. “He was in on it anyway.”

The three older men turn to the man in question, Jimin meeting their curious gazes with a guilty look, knowing at some point Jungkook would grill him.

“Remember that woman I dated two years ago, the teacher?” He sighs.

Everyone nods.

“I surprised her one time at the daycare center where she was working. That’s how I bumped into ___. It was pretty obvious at first glance that Jungwon is Kook’s kid. I mean,” Jimin smiles, thinking about the little boy who’s taken his heart as well, reminding him of the best parts of Jungkook that's laid dormant for years. “Wide eyes, shy smile, puffy cheeks and soft features. It was unmistakable.”

Jimin remembers that day well, how flustered you’d been, arriving at the daycare an hour late and profusely apologizing to the staff. He’d stopped you then, his shocked face enough to let you know what he was thinking as you held the boy in your arms. It didn’t take long for you to tell him the truth, begging him not to tell his best friend.

“He’s finally playing in the major league, Jimin. There are too many good things going on for him there. I mean he— he’s happy. It won’t do good for me to tell him now,” you’d told him.

Jimin could’ve pressed more, should’ve gone to the root of your decision to hide it in the first place, or maybe even convinced you to tell Jungkook the truth, but you looked too stressed, a permanent fixture on your face, he thought, and he didn’t want to push it.

So he left it at that, knowing as well that between the pressure to do well and the rumors going around, this type of news would be a big hit to Jungkook. Ultimately, Jimin didn’t think it was his place to meddle; the most he could do was support you any way he could.

“How is he, the kid?” Jin questions, knowing his cousin would want to know but is too stubborn and angry to ask.

“The sweetest,” Jimin beams. “He’s pretty shy but becomes playful once he’s warmed up to you. He’s smart, just like ___, and is so caring, he's very affectionate and even talks to insects and—“ he pauses, as Yoongi nudges his knee and motions for him to stop.

Jungkook is still, jaws clenched again at the thought that these are things he doesn’t know and for obvious reasons. Thinking about how Taehyung and Jimin have done so much more for and with his own kid hurts him.

He loves his friends, knows he should be thankful that they’d been there for you and Jungwon but he can’t shake off the frustration, the jealousy. He wonders if any other man had the privilege of getting to know his son that way, of getting close to him.

He wonders, too, if any other man had gotten close to you. That’s a pang in his chest he doesn’t want to dwell on.

“Look, I’m really sorry, Kook. But a lot of things were happening with you then, too and I didn’t want to just drop that news to you. It would have been too much and—“

“You too?” Jungkook huffs. “I fucking hate it when people think they can just decide on such things about my life without me having a say. Wouldn't that piss you off if it happened to you?”

He’s met with silence.

It’s what gets him, really, the fact that people he trusted couldn’t afford him the decency of letting him decide, of trusting him that whatever happens, he was gonna figure it out.

“Wanna know what I think?” Yoongi speaks up.

“No,” Jungkook responds.

“That was hypothetical,” Yoongi says and shifts in his seat. “We all know ___. She’s very self-assured, sometimes to a fault, but she’s not rash, she’s not selfish. She might have decided on her own but it doesn’t mean she didn’t consider you.”

“She still should’ve talked to me about it. It was too big of a decision to not include me in it,” Jungkook retorts.

“But she was right, wasn’t she? You would have stayed. She knows you too well that you would’ve given up everything.”

“Why does everyone make it sound so bad? Of course I would’ve. That’s my son! I’m not the kind of person who would turn his back on that responsibility,” Jungkook bites back.

“It isn’t bad, but that’s precisely the point. Did you ask yourself why she thought it was worth it? Why she believed that the better option was to not be truthful for as long as you got to live out your dream? For as long as you got to reap the benefits of what you’ve worked so hard for?” Yoongi posits.

Jungkook stills, lips starting to quiver as he processes his friend’s questions.

“Baseball has always been your whole world, Jungkook. She shared you with it. It was all you talked about - the dream, what it meant to you, the connection with your father, the joy you’d feel when playing and hearing the cheers… We knew that, she knew that,” Yoongi continues.

“Your dream made you, Kook. It was all you knew, and she never complained. She loved you the same. And even with all your anger towards her right now, you know she wouldn’t try to take that dream away from you. Even if it means hurting both of you in the process.”

“But she meant so much to me, too. I would’ve done anything for her, and I thought she knew that,” Jungkook whimpers. He’d never once doubted what he felt for you and he always thought it was enough.

“Yeah, but do you think that was her first thought when she found out she was pregnant? That you’d give up your dream for her without any consequences down the line? She knew you would’ve stayed because you’re the kind of person to do that, but she also knew what that would mean, what that would do to you, and what that would do to them.”

Yoongi, ever the wise one of the group, makes everyone think.

The silence is deafening, but Jungkook doesn’t miss the way the guys have taken to slight nods and furrowed brows.

“Baseball was too important to you. She probably believed you’d lose more if you didn’t take the opportunity then. Not being there for her and your son was something she maybe thought you could always make up for,” Yoongi states.

Of your brother’s friends, Yoongi had always been the one you were closest to, spent the most nights at parties with, talking and agreeing on things. This is probably why he gets it, gets why you felt like you had to do what you did.

“Kook, don’t think she never planned on telling you. She never meant to keep it a secret forever,” Jimin says, recalling your claims that you just needed the right time to eventually tell Jungkook. “Maybe that’s why you’re even more frustrated; maybe you think she never wanted to involve you. Of course she does. You were her whole world and—“

“Baseball was mine,” Jungkook finishes, resigning to the idea that that's what you always thought, and you weren’t wrong. “She thinks I’d resent them down the road if I stayed and gave up on my dream.”

“I love you, Kook, but that fear is valid,” Jin says. “I’m not saying I agree with her decision but I think I get where she’s coming from.”

“But hey, you have all the right to be angry,” Hoseok says, disrupting the silence that’s enveloped everyone again. “Just don’t be so consumed by it, okay? You’re back, you have more of a reason to stay, so just think of where you need to go from here. You have all of us, you and ___ and Jungwon have all of us.”

Jungkook wipes off the tears that have silently fallen down his cheeks, the most he’s cried in front of his friends in years. It had been a change on his end after the break up - the walls he put up, the control he had over his emotions, the once soft heart hardening in places to make sure he wouldn’t hurt as much again. He hates to admit that it had all been because of you.

Jin’s phone rings and cuts through the silence that’s tainted with short sniffles.

“Namjoon saw the chat, wonders if he could come,” Jin asks.

“No need, I’m gonna leave soon,” Jungkook responds.

Jin relays the message to Namjoon who sends his own, then finishes the call.

“He said he wants to check up on you, too. You should meet up with him, I think it’d be good. It’s Namjoon, Kook. He loves his sister to death but you know he’ll be objective about it, too. Think about it, okay?”

Jungkook nods then lets some time pass before he leaves.

He thinks about it that night until the wee hours of the morning. For the first time, he thinks about what you felt the moment you found out, about what you were feeling and thinking that led you to decide to break up, and if you really planned on making him believe that you didn’t think it’d work out to cover up the truth.

Everything the guys said tonight rings in his head. What made you think this was the better option? What made you think he’d lose more if he gave up on the dream instead of being in your and Jungwon’s life? Why did you think his dream was more important than his life with you? Why did you think he’d resent you down the road?

It’s not lost on him that his dream seemed to trump everything else. It would always go back to that, it would always be about that, how even during that life-changing moment of you finding out you were carrying his child, what you considered was him and baseball.

He recalls the days leading up to the break up, how your conversations had been about his move, but never about the two of you. He chalked it up to thinking it was a given, that of course you’d stay together. He never realized that it wasn’t actually clear to you; it had been a given to him but not to you.

Jungkook doesn’t remember fights about lack of time because of training, or him not being in the mood after a bad game. Everything you’ve ever been to him was patient, understanding, and accepting of the sport he’d dedicated his whole life to, like it was a given, like it was the most important thing, like it was the third party in your relationship. And you never complained.

He loved you for that and more, for the fighter that you were, for the strong and goal-oriented woman that you were, for the thoughtful and warm-hearted person you’ve always been. He loved you so much. He’d fallen so hard that he willingly gave you his heart and let you do whatever you wanted with it, as long you had it. Because of that, you hurt him so terribly, he didn’t know how he could recover.

He thinks now that maybe it was on him, too. Maybe he didn’t tell you enough just how much you meant to him. Maybe he could’ve done more, appreciated you more, or at least let you know that you were just as much a part of his plan the way baseball was.

Maybe then you would’ve trusted him that you two would work it out, that it would be okay if he had to let go of his dream to be the partner that you needed, to be the father you needed him to be for your child.

But maybe you both didn’t know any better, he also thinks. You were so young, maybe it was too much to ask you to trust him, maybe you were also right not to. He’d definitely grown up the past years, and maybe he wouldn’t have if you didn’t break his heart the way you did.

He thinks about how you’d been the past years, too, how you took care of Jungwon on your own, how hard it must’ve been for you. But any more and he knows he’ll break down, and he doesn’t trust himself doing that alone.

He sighs at all the thoughts in his head and his mixed emotions. But his friends are right. He’s home now - he has all the resources, the time - what matters is what happens next.

He wants to understand better, and to know what you went through but he can’t bring himself to ask you. He knows you’ll brush off the sacrifices, the struggles; you never wanted to make others see your vulnerability, know of your weakest moments. So he decides to ask someone else. It’s 4AM but he doesn’t care.

[To: Namjoon]: Can we meet up? Jin’s bar at 7pm. See you.

“Uncle Tete, I choose this one!” Jungwon excitedly says, pointing at a toy submarine on the shelf. Taehyung is quick to retrieve the item then puts it in the cart.

“Okay, what else does this muffin want?”

“Tae, I said one thing,” you sigh. “Also, can you make sure that toy doesn’t have removable parts so he doesn’t attract kind strangers to help him?”

Your best friend rolls his eyes but Jimin chuckles next to you. “___, that broken airplane brought you to Jungkook. Plus, Jungwon wandered away; imagine if some other stranger found him,” he says.

“Shut up, I’m traumatized. That wasn’t the best way to let Jungkook know. Plus, I was so flustered that I lied and said I was babysitting,” you groan to yourself. You always knew how to carry yourself but it was really only Jungkook who ever made you feel nervous.

“I made it seem like I really meant to lie and you know that’s not true. I just didn’t know he was gonna be back. And you didn’t tell me,” you glare at Jimin.

“You think I didn’t give him shit for not telling me?” He replies. “Only Jin knew. Even I didn’t think he’d actually sign with the Bears. Everything was so fast. Before I knew it, he was already boarding a plane back home.”

“Well, he did say he didn’t wanna bug you since you’ve been so busy with your show,” Tae says from the shelf next to you. “Jungwon wants this puppy towel, by the way. Can I buy it for him?”

“Tae, I said just one thing. Stop spoiling him. We’re supposed to buy his school supplies,” you whine.

“Right, his father’s gonna hate me even more,” he mumbles.

“Okay, muffin. Mama said just one thing. Let’s go look at crayons now,” Tae tells Jungwon who smiles back at him and agrees.

“How’s rehearsal by the way?” You ask Jimin.

“Good. Just a few more weeks and we’re ready to go,” he says, excited over the Swan Lake show that his company is putting on. You’re excited, too, certain he’s going to do well. Being a professional ballerina is so much work but he’s always exceeded expectations. You know it can get stressful so maybe that’s why Jungkook didn’t bother informing him earlier.

“You’re watching, okay? The first show and the last, it’s when everyone is watching, too,” he says.

“You don’t have to ask, Jimin. Of course, I’ll be there. Sucks that Jungwon won’t get to see his uncle perform though.”

“Okay, just making sure, since Jungkook is here and all.”

“You should ask him, then. He’s the one who detests me,” you sigh.

“He doesn’t detest you, ___. He’s just angry, and with reason.”

You don’t miss the stern tone of his voice. You always felt the disappointment that Jimin felt towards you with what happened, even stayed away for a while after the breakup. Moving back to your parents’ home had been a good escape, seeing as how you didn’t know how to face your friends after everything.

It wasn’t until 2 years ago when Jimin bumped into you at the daycare that you two got to talking again. You know he decided to stick around for Jungwon, but it always worried you that he’d eventually tell Jungkook but he never did, which you were thankful for.

“I never said it wasn’t justified. I mean, after last week, I hope he stays angry at me, you know? And for a long time. I deserve that.”

“Hey, don’t talk that way.”

“You think I’m wrong? That I don’t deserve his anger?”

Jimin sighs. The department store really isn’t the best place for this but he proceeds anyway.

“It’s not that. I mean, it’s one thing to hurt him by suddenly breaking up with. And I won’t lie to you, ___, you broke him. That night, I found him curled in a ball by the door, unmoving, kind of like how I used to find him when we were younger… after his dad died.”

You release a long breath, not even wanting to imagine a balled-up Jungkook, sobbing. You heard him that night, how he begged for you to please don’t go. You walked away from the closed door then, as any moment longer would’ve just made you take it back.

“But it’s also another thing to lie about his son,” Jimin continues.

“You know I had to do it; he wouldn’t have agreed to break up if I didn’t make him believe that I didn’t want him anymore. And I had to keep Jungwon from him because I couldn’t let him stay. I mean, Jungkook and I just couldn’t be together, it wasn’t that easy.“

“Weren’t there other options?” Jimin wonders. “Maybe like, I don’t know, going with him?”

He’d heard Jungkook mention in passing before about possibly asking you to go with him but he doesn’t know if his best friend ever got to ask.

No one really knows what happened that night; Jungkook never said anything more than it’s over. No explanations, no follow-ups. Three days later, he talked to the school administration and requested for an early completion of his requirements so he could leave for the US as soon as possible.

“It never really entered my mind… I mean, I got pregnant after the deal was finalized and that was not an option at all,” you explain. “It would’ve been too hard, too scary. I mean, we were still so young and to be in a foreign place, by ourselves, with a child? And we were just together for 2 years, that would’ve been a huge step and—“

“Did you doubt what he felt?”

“What do you mean?”

“You talk as if you didn’t think you were ready as a couple for that step. You two loved each other so much. He loved you so, so much, ___. Doesn’t matter how hard things would’ve been, he would’ve done everything he could to make sure you two would make it, he would’ve done whatever he needed to make you happy.”

“It’s not that simple, Jimin. He needed support there, needed someone to help him and make things easier, not someone - more like two people - to take care of and what would have I done for him? What would have I offered?”

“That wouldn’t have mattered though, right? He always wanted to make you happy, being with you would’ve been enough, I mean, he loved you that much.”

Jimin is met with silence, and it hits him what Yoongi was pointing out the night before, and it crushes him. Maybe if you knew just how much you mattered to Jungkook, maybe you would’ve trusted him, maybe you would’ve trusted the both of you.

You let out a deep sigh instead. You never doubted Jungkook’s love for you; you just knew there were other more important things, things he‘s dedicated much more time on, unlike you.

You shake the thoughts away. You know that dwelling on the what if’s won’t help your mind and your heart, especially now.

You and Jimin settle on watching Taehyung help Jungwon decide on which crayons and colored clay to choose for art class, smiling at the little boy who’s been nothing but the sweetest angel.

Your smile fades away though, at the thought of how it must be for him too, meeting all these men who always introduce themselves as his uncle, never his father.

Jungwon had asked you only twice - one time when he asked if he was made of magic because there was this older kid in the playground who said that her mommy and daddy made her but Jungwon didn’t have a daddy; the other time was more straightforward, just where is Papa.

That kind of pain is truly unmatched, you think, and you settle for telling the little kid that his Papa is somewhere doing good things but that Papa loves him even if he isn’t around. No promises, no false hope. You made the choice and your kid shouldn’t suffer too much for it - you know Jungkook would love him no matter what.

“How has Jungkook been, by the way? And I want the truth, Jimin,” you ask as you save your sad thoughts for another day.

Since you reconnected two years ago, you never really talked about Jungkook and Jimin had always made sure to only bring him up when you asked. Which was never.

Everything is now out in the open though so you think there’s no harm in asking.

“Like I said, you broke him,” he sighs. “He hasn’t really been the same. We were all so worried, that’s why Jin made sure to go with him when he left; it’s why I made sure to visit him twice a year. He just became different, you know? Like a light was put out.”

You let this process for a bit. It had been the same with you, only you had a child to remind you of Jungkook. It had been hard to get over him - you didn’t break up with him because you didn’t love him anymore, anyway; it was the opposite, in fact.

But you had to try to at least move on because at the back of your mind, you knew that things weren’t going to be the same after that. You knew Jungkook would never abandon your son, would never not love him; you are altogether a different story.

“He was doing pretty well though, wasn’t he?” You shift the discussion.

You recall having watched games for the first few years. He’d been signed to the affiliate team of the LA Dodgers and was playing in Oklahoma City. He was an immediate standout and was chosen by the major league team to play in the roster the year after. It was almost meteoric, considering that he was a foreigner and thus, largely unheard of, but he was in tip-top shape, eye-hand coordination impressive, batting skills a dream especially as a rookie, and ran like Flash that it was a nickname the locals used to call him.

“Oh, he was great. Even the man who scouted him didn’t think he would be that great. But that’s expected, I guess, if you spend every waking hour in the gym or in the batting cage, if you follow a strict and intense schedule even during the off-season, and if you have no distractions like friends or girlfriends,” Jimin explains, pointing out all the sacrifices behind the success.

“But Maia—”

“Was probably the first friend he made outside of his team. You’d expect her to be his girlfriend too, right?”

You pause at this. You knew that at some point, Jungkook would move on from you; you did make him believe you didn’t want to be with him anymore, anyway. Yet, it was still a bitter pill to swallow when you found out about his relationship. She was a model-actress, so her presence in the games would often cause a buzz.

“He just changed in a way. There were all these walls up, even from us. You took a very big piece of him, ___. I’m surprised he even got to recover. I was afraid he wasn’t gonna be able to move on from you.”

There’s a pang in your chest at the seeming finality of Jimin’s words. Of course Jungkook would move on from you, of course at one point he’d realize that things would be better without you. You just didn’t think it would hurt like this.

“That’s good for him, then.”

“Have you?”

“Yes, of course,” you say. You hope he doesn’t miss the uncertainty in your voice, that he doesn’t detect the lie.

Jungkook enters the venue and heads straight to the bar where Namjoon is already waiting.

“Scotch, please,” Jungkook calls to the bartender, earning him a remark from the older man about how even his alcoholic preference has upgraded.

“It’s smoother,” Jungkook says, fixing himself on the barstool.

There’s an air of silence between the two men that is almost uncomfortable.

It had never been like this. Namjoon is a protective brother but given that Jin is one of his good friends who’d vouched for the young man, it had been easy for Namjoon to go soft on Jungkook. He saw how much Jungkook cared for you, made you happy, and as your brother, he’ll always be grateful for that.

“How are you?” The older man asks, sipping on his Martini.

“Great. Just found out my ex-girlfriend was pregnant with our son whom I didn’t know existed until a week ago. You?”

“Not great. My parents have been calling me, asking how ___ is and how you are and if things are okay. Don’t exactly know how to break the news that things aren’t actually fine.”

“They must hate me, huh?”

“Nope. You know our parents always stayed out of our relationships. They always liked you, though. But is that what you really wanna know?”

Jungkook exhales, trying to calm himself. He had time to think things through, but facing the emotions had been difficult.

“I just wanna try to understand. I want so badly to justify what she did so I could stop being so angry. I just want to stop feeling… this,” he says, clutching his chest, lips quivering. “It hurts so bad, I just don’t want to feel this anymore.”

Namjoon weakens at the sight of Jungkook like this, desperate to feel something else other than pain, other than anger. He’d heard from Jin how it was so hard for the young man to accept losing you, and then all this? It’s a lot for one person to handle.

“She was so selfish, leaving me like that, thinking I would be okay on my own. And then I finally accepted what happened only to find out that we have a child all this time? Please, please make me understand,” he begs, eyes glassy now.

“Look,” Namjoon says, turning to Jungkook, who, even with his build, has never looked so small.

“I won’t defend her and say that I think she made the right decision. It’s just that she made the best decision she could make at that moment. She knew what was at stake and she felt that choice was the better one,” he explains, similar to what Yoongi had posited.

This is your brother who always had a good read of you and it’s the closest to your thoughts that Jungkook could get.

“She tried to comfort herself everyday by justifying what she did - that you did well, made it to the major league a year later. You did what you set out to do. And I’m sorry to bring this up but when your mother got sick, wasn’t it that you had enough to pay for it all? No debts, no added stress for her? Life was good for you and your mother. It wasn’t the best, but what if you had stayed?” He asks, the question ringing in his head.

How would things be if Jungkook stayed?

“Again, I’m not saying she was right, I’m just saying that things happened the way they did and she made a choice. Any other decision would’ve had other consequences and she made the one she could stand by, that she could live with. I mean, it was all she could do.”

Jungkook thinks about this, how he’d felt comforted, too that he was able to pay for all his mother’s medical bills when it got too much. But life wasn’t good; it was excruciating being away from you, thinking all that time that you really didn’t believe in the both of you, convinced that it wasn’t going to work out.

All he had was the love and joy he got from baseball; it had been enough for him that time. Of course, with what he knows now, it’s different.

Jungkook goes back to what Namjoon asked, about what he really wanted to know.

“Did… did she have a hard time?” Eyes pleading. “Tell me, please.”

Namjoon sighs at this, not knowing how to answer. “It wasn’t easy.”

“Don’t simplify it. I need… I need to know. I need to not feel this. I need to not be angry,” he says, voice strained.

“She won’t want your pity, Jungkook, you know her.”

“Please, Namjoon. You know she’ll never tell me. But I need to know.”

The older man lets out a deep breath, knowing that you indeed wouldn’t tell Jungkook any of this.

“She stayed with my parents in Ilsan after graduation. She was four months along then but was adamant about earning on her own so she took several jobs online. There was a lot of stress but that’s normal, I guess,” Namjoon narrates. “My parents, Taehyung, and our neighbor all took turns staying with her because she’s so stubborn, you know? Wouldn’t tell you if something’s wrong.”

Jungkook knows that all too well, that you really are like that.

“Knowing that, though, my parents had her checked every week. That’s how they determined fetal distress,” Namjoon slows down, tone more somber now. “It was early detection so they were able to perform a c-section right away.”

Jungkook turns to him, fear and worry etched on the younger man’s face. “She… she had surgery?”

“Yeah. It was pretty tough and Jungwon had to be monitored for any disabilities or delays. But yeah, he managed, she managed,” Namjoon recounts. The events are so far away but it’s like the worry and the relief still feel so real.

“The kid’s strong, Jungkook. He has a soft and sweet soul like you but he's definitely a fighter like his mother. Perfect mix, if I should say so myself,” the older man smiles, trying to turn the conversation to a lighter one.

He means it though, how Jungwon personifies the best parts of you and Jungkook.

“But they were okay after?”

“Somewhat. She was required to rest for several weeks so those two bonded like crazy,” Namjoon giggles. “Good thing that Jungwon was a quiet one, barely cried, didn’t give ___ too much of a hard time. It just… took time away from her earning, you know? So once she was capable, she took this job at a marketing firm that was way too hectic but paid well and it just… It was hard.”

“How hard?”

“Hard. Jungkook, she was a single parent. A stubborn and proud one at that. Worked over 12 hours a day, took online jobs during the weekend, took Jungwon to daycare everyday, taught him to do everything, made sure he got to play and all…” Namjoon narrates.

“It’s why my mom visited her every month for those first 2 years, why Ara and I would babysit often, why Taehyung set up a place for Jungwon at his apartment on days when ___ had an event until early morning. She only ever asked help if it was about Jungwon, never if it was about her,” Namjoon sighs, recalling how painful it had been for him as your brother to watch you do it all, never taking a break, never asking for help.

“Stubborn and proud, like you said,” Jungkook states.

“Yeah and well, she made a choice, Jungkook. She made a choice to leave you, to have this child on her own, and she made sure to give him everything while being the best parent she could be, taking on both roles for him and she never complained, not once. She just kept going, you know? Never made Jungwon feel any less or that he was a mistake or that he wasn’t loved enough. She made a decision and she stood by it. I’ll always admire her for that,” Namjoon states, holding his own emotions back.

Jungkook lets this all sink in, suddenly wishing that he was there for you, that you didn’t have to go through all that by yourself, that even with friends and family, he’s hoping you didn’t feel so alone.

He knows how you are, knows you’ll exhaust yourself before you even ask for help. That’s how he knew you truly loved him, when you would tell him you’re tired, or that you need help, whether it was something as simple as fixing your broken light bulb or using his charms to get the administration office to agree on this event proposal you had. Being open to him let him know you trusted him. Until you didn’t.

You never minded asking him, and Jungkook knows that if he’d been around, you wouldn’t have minded him helping you, making it easier for you. And it crushes him that he’d wanted to be everything you needed him to be for you and for your child but you didn’t even give him a chance.

He lets out a deep breath, the anger slowly dissipating and being replaced with longing, with a kind of sadness that he now doesn’t know how to deal with.

Namjoon picks up on this and pats him on the shoulder. “Look, I know that you’re still upset and you have the right to be. Just don’t be blinded by that. You’re home. You have a son that I’m sure you want to get to know. Four years is a lot but it’s also just 4 years. Don’t waste any more time that was already taken away from you.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says softly, knowing that it’s still going to take a lot of getting used to.

“So, what do you wanna do now?”

“Maybe meet up with her? I mean, I was yelling at her the last time we saw each other and I just want to ask to see our son.”

“Of course, Kook. I’m sure she’d want that, too.”

You’re sitting on one of the benches at the park the next day, watching Jungwon play with Namjoon and his wife, Ara, from afar. Even from here, you can make out the doe eyes of your son and his smile that reaches his eyes.

He likes the cold, just like you, and he’s been running about with his toy airplane and submarine, which he almost threw in the fountain. You’re smiling fondly, thinking of how the universe had been kind enough to bless you with the sweetest little angel that it could create.

You feel a figure settle next you, not too far away. Namjoon had told you late last night that Jungkook wanted to meet you, perhaps to ask for a workable schedule to spend time with Jungwon.

“Hey,” he says. You shiver, and you know it’s not because of the weather.

“I never got to tell you but I’m so, so sorry, Jungkook,” you say, turning to him, your eyes taking in the sight of him properly for the first time. “There’s so much I need to apologize for and I know it’s gonna take a long time for you to forgive me.”

You’re unable to rein in your feelings again, but after that first conversation with him and then the one you had with Jimin yesterday, you can’t help the guilt that you’ve been trying to temper bubble to the surface - for hurting him, for not trusting him, for not giving him a choice.

“There’s no point dwelling on what happened. It’s done. I’m here. I have time. And I’d like to spend it with Jungwon as much as possible,” he responds.

He doesn’t look at you; he just keeps his eyes out on the little boy still running about. His little boy, his son. And he can’t wait to finally hold him, get to know him, fall in love with him.

“Of course, but we need to take it slow. He’s a shy kid and it’ll take a while. Let’s follow his pace, okay?”

“Sure. We can grab lunch on Saturday, then?”

You can’t help the hope that bubbles in your chest. “That sounds good, Jungkook.”

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berrynarrybanana · 4 years

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stars in our eyes | h.s

A/N: Hiya everyone! This is my entry for @helladirections Summer Fic Challenge! I picked Baseball Harry and Stargazing and originally I had a different idea ( I might bring that idea back in another part) but this was a good way to start of the story between these two. I adore them and I know this isn’t a whole lot, but I hope you all enjoy! Thank you to Elysa for hosting this amazing challenge. I really enjoyed taking part in it and I can’t wait to read all of the other works posted by my fellow writers! Here is a link to the masterlist for anyone who wants to take a look at the other pieces posted for the Summer Fic Challenge.

Word Count 3.3k+

Warnings: None yet!

September 2015 Monday; 6:00 PM

Your first day of University wasn’t at all what you expected.

It felt just like your first day of high school with a few extra challenges sprinkled in, such as time management and struggling to find out what buildings you were meant to be in for class. The only person you had become friends with was your roommate, and she was just as awkward about meeting new people as you were. You both sat alone in the dining hall during breakfast before awkwardly waving to each other and parting ways.

She was studying Biochemistry, and you were studying Journalism with a Minor in Broadcasting, which meant you had no classes together. It was a little scarier during the first hour, you’ll admit, but after sitting through a two-hour orientation from your intro to a creative writing class, you were just over it. At the end of your first day, you found yourself in the last place you ever expected to be on campus.

The baseball field.

Your Father was tucked away in the complex under the stadium, planning out his first practice that was scheduled for tomorrow. When you showed up with slumped shoulders and tired eyes, he merely handed you a bucket of baseballs and a bat before sending you out on the field. There was already a tee set up, and you suspected that your Father had spent quite a bit of time out here earlier to relive some of his stress. This was his first year coaching at UCLA, and he was extremely nervous about the number of eyes watching him this year. He wasn’t coaching high school ball anymore. College baseball was on a much bigger scale, which meant he had more to lose.

You tried not to think about it as you set the ball on the tee, digging your beat-up sneakers into the sand before taking a deep breath. Baseball was in your blood. You spent more time on the field than you did in school as a kid, and you weren’t afraid of anything when you were holding a bat in your hand. Without hesitation, you twisted your body, driving strength into your hit with your hips and your shoulders. The cracking sound of the ball meeting the bat was soothing to your already frayed nerves. The only thing that was truly missing was the cheering crowd.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

A low whistle caused you to snap your head around, your eyes landing on a too-tall man wearing a UCLA hoodie and a baseball cap. Resting the tip of your bat to the ground, you narrowed your eyes. He shuffled forward, clearing his throat as an amused grin pulled at the corner of his lips.

“I’m not afraid to use this thing on more than baseballs if you catch my drift.” You shifted back a little as he held his hands up. “Who are you?”

“M’name is Harry.” He said. “Coach Willis sent me out here. He said there was someone else blowing off steam out on the field and could probably use a real pitcher.”

“I’m fine.” You glanced towards the ground. “But if you’re here to blow off steam too, then I don’t mind.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “I didn’t catch your name, by the way.”

“I didn’t throw it.” You bent down, picking up the bucket of balls before shoving it at him. “I don’t want to talk.”

“Alright, no talking.” He nodded, taking the bucket. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Monday; 9:00 PM

By the time your father emerged from his office, you were dripping with sweat.

Harry was the same, his hoodie long discarded, and his hat flipped around as he tossed another ball in your direction. The cracking sound of your bat hitting the ball was drowned out by your Father clapping behind you. Harry narrowly missed the catch, his body tumbling to the ground with his glove tucked into his chest as you smiled widely at your father.

“I hate to admit it, but this kid is good.” Your father held out a water bottle, and you gladly accepted, twisting the cap off before taking a hearty sip. “Where did you find him?”

“Community college out in Carolina.” He said. “Parents just moved from England, and he was getting into some trouble. They tossed him in a few leagues, and I scouted him and offered a full ride.”

“I can see why.” You looked over at Harry, who was jogging over to the both of you. “Great pitching you did out there.”

“Thanks.” He flashed you a grin before taking the second bottle your father offered. “Hey, coach.”

“As much as I would love to watch this go on, I have to lock up.” Your father glanced over at you, his eyes playfully narrowed. “And you need your rest, young lady. You have early classes in the morning, and I don’t want the other teachers talking shit in the staff lounge.”

“Yes, sir.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “Thanks for letting me come out here. I love you, dad.”

“Love you too, bug!”

He pressed a kiss to your cheek before you handed him the bat. You grabbed your bag from the dugout, slinging it over your shoulders as your Father and Harry continued to talk. As you were making your way past the locker room, you heard your name being called from behind you. When you turned around, you didn’t expect to see Harry chasing after you with a wide grin.

“Hey, coach asked if I could walk you home.” He huffed out. “I promised I would return you to your dorm safely.”

“I can walk by myself; you don’t have to babysit.” You mumbled, continuing until you reached the door of the stadium. Harry was right behind you when you glanced over your shoulder. “I’m sure you have better things to do than babysit the coach's daughter.”

“I don’t, actually.” He let out a breathy laugh. “I’ve finished all of my schoolwork, and I don’t know anyone, so I’m free.”

After a few moments of awkward silence, you finally spoke up.

“What are you studying?”

“Um, Music.” When you turned to look at him, he had ducked his head down. “Minoring in Early Childhood psychology, though.”

“Plan on being a music teacher?” Your brows arched on their own, your surprise clear as the night sky as you walked side by side

“Kind of.” He laughed softly. “If this whole baseball thing doesn’t pan out, at least.”

“I think it will.” You said softly. “I’ve been watching my Dad coach since I was in diapers. You’re the best player I’ve seen.”

“Thanks.” He said. “I appreciate that.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The rest of your walk was filled with small talk.

You learned that he was from Northern England and that his parents moved to the States two years ago. He had never played baseball a day in his life, more into music and tattoos than anything else. But he ran with a pretty bad crowd, and his Mum was extremely upset when he landed himself in jail for a night with underage drinking. After that, things changed for him. He promised his Mother that he would find something more productive to do with his life and that he would make her proud. Once he realized how big sports were in America, he decided to try his hand at baseball. He happened to be really good at the sport and his high school coach encouraged him to take it on full time. When Harry learned he could get a free ride to college, he dedicated his life to perfecting his craft.

“Sorry for talking so much.” He was extremely bashful, his cheeks still tinged with pink as you turned to look at him. “I don’t talk a lot, but I do tend to get carried away when I start.”

“It happens to the best of us.” With a shrug of your shoulders, you offered him a reassuring smile as you patted his bicep. “I think you’re gonna kick ass, and I know that you’ll do well with my Dad. He’s an amazing coach.”

“He truly is.” Harry nodded. “If you ever need to blow off steam again…”

“Yeah,” You nodded at his unspoken offer. “Same goes for you.”

“Thanks.” He smiled. “Um, have a goodnight, Y/N.”

“You too, Harry.”

October 31 11:00 PM

After that first night, you and Harry began blowing off steam together regularly.

On most weeknights, you were out at the field with him. Your dad would hand you the keys, instructing you to lock up when you were finished. From there, Harry would pitch until his arm was tired, and you were so exhausted you could barely swing. Most of the time, he eased up on his throws. You could tell he was holding back just so you would get the chance to hit each ball clear across the field. You could tell when he really gave it his all, his whole body going into the throw as he grits his teeth. Those were a little harder for you to hit, but not impossible. You didn’t talk a lot during your time together, but on your walk home, you would indulge in friendly conversation. He would ask about classes, and you would ask about his life in a frat house. When you finally made it to your dorm, you would take at least twenty minutes to say goodbye to each other.

And when you weren’t with Harry, you were thinking about him. Your mind was stuck on the way he laughed and the confidence he exuded when he was on the pitcher’s mound. You thought about his hands and his smile. The scent of his cologne and sweat was almost like an aphrodisiac and his laughter sounded like a song. You hated how hung up you were when it came to Harry. There was no chance that you would actually get to be with Harry like that. Not only were you scared of upsetting your father, but you were also scared of ruining your new friendship.

But now you’re standing in Harry’s living room while his Frat brothers try to score with girls that are way out of their league. Your roommate had burst out of her shell a little, and she’d made a few friends. Her new friends were the reason you were standing with a solo cup full of vodka in your hand and a crappy costume that you’d tossed together in twenty minutes after your roommate begged you to come out. There were about twenty other girls dressed as angels, their outfits far cuter than yours, and their makeup flawless. You were still rocking the makeup you’d put on at six am, half asleep on your bed in the dark. As you pressed the rim of your cup to your lips, you heard your name being shouted somewhere from across the room.

When you looked up, you didn’t expect to see Harry waving at you.

“What on earth are you dressed as?” You looked over the sparkling L.A Dodgers uniform Harry was wearing, a plastic cup in his hand and a huge grin on his face.

“I’m Elton John!” He cheered. “But also, I’m manifesting my dream to be a Dodger!”

“Clever.” You pressed your lips together, rolling them over your teeth as you tried not to let your drunken giggle slip out. He noticed your face, his own falling as he stood up straight.

“You don’t like it?” His voice slurred around the words, and your heart dropped.

“I love it.” You said quickly. “I think you look really handsome, actually.”

“Yeah?” He let out a breathless laugh. “Thank you, lovie.”

“Of course.” You gave him a soft smile.

“And you’re...an angel?” His eyes slipped over your costume in a way that didn’t make your skin crawl. “You did a really good job with your outfit.”

“I didn’t know we were coming to this thing tonight. I just threw this together.” You waved your hand about, looking down at your white dress. “I’m not as….my costume isn’t as scandalous or fun, but it does the job.”

“I think you look beautiful, lovie.” He cooed, shuffling forward as a group of guys rushed past him. When you pressed your hands to his arms, steadying him out of habit, he gave you that smirk. “I think you’re an angel already. Could’ve come dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and it would be just as perfect.”

“Harry.” With a soft giggle, you ducked your head down. “You’re drunk.”

“Still think you’re beautiful when I’m sober.” He hummed out, reaching up to press his thumb to your chin. He gently guided your face up, his face serious as he spoke. “I mean it, fuck do I mean it, Y/N. I swear I struggle every single day, trying to keep you off my mind. But it’s so fucking hard when you’re this beautiful.”

You didn’t say anything as he brushed the pad of his thumb over your chin, his glossy green eyes staring into yours. If you were completely honest with yourself, you felt the same way about him. Even when you were completely preoccupied with your schoolwork, you were thinking about Harry. The way he smiled, the way he walked, how he pitched with that look in his eyes, it was impossible not to think about the man that had wormed his way into your life.

“I think about you, too.” You whispered. “All the time.”

“Yeah?” The corners of his lips twitched, a soft smile forming. “Can we...I wanna go somewhere with you.”

“Anywhere you want.” You whispered. “I’ll follow.”

“Finish your drink.” He smirked.

**************

You didn’t expect to be in the outfield with Harry.

When you realized what direction he was pulling you in, you groaned a little. Harry’s response was lacing your fingers together before pulling you into his side. He slipped an arm around your shoulder, turning his head to press a sloppy kiss to your forehead before he promised that you would enjoy his surprise. When you walked into the actual stadium, and past the infield, it was pitch black. Your father must have turned the lights off when he left for the night.

“Look!” You pointed towards the grassy field, gasping. “Lightning bugs!”

Harry let you go, watching as you ran into the field with your hands extended out. His heart was beating so hard in his chest as he watched you move freely, practically dancing in the grass as you tried to catch one. When you finally did, you turned towards Harry with a smile that rivaled the moon’s brightness shining down over both of you. He moved forward, peeking into your hand as you carefully opened it. The soft yellow glow had nothing on your giggles.

“Dad calls me bug a lot because I used to love catching them when I was a kid.” You whispered, opening your hand up so that the bug could go free. “They’re so stunning.”

“Lightning bug.” He let out a breathy laugh. “You remind me of one now that I’m thinking about it.”

“How so?” You ask, turning towards him.

Harry grabbed both of your hands, pulling you into his chest with a grin.

“You’re so fucking bright.” He said. “You literally glow, and I don’t even think you notice it. Even when we first met and you were pissed off or upset about whatever, you were glowing.”

“That’s called sweat, Harry.” You grimaced, rolling your eyes at his affection. “Do you really mean it?”

“I really do.”

Harry pressed his forehead into yours as his hands slipped from yours. He dropped them to your waist, digging his fingers into your sides as you basked in the moment. Your lips started to tingle with the need to kiss him, almost overwhelming your senses. You let your hands slip over his biceps as you push yourself back, clearing your throat, as if to bring you back down from the cloud he had you stuck on.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” You whispered. “But I know that I shouldn’t.

“Why shouldn’t you?” His brows pulled together as you took a step back.

“Because you’re the star of my father’s team, and I can’t get in the way of that.” You felt your lips falling into a frown. “I can’t do that to him, and I can’t do that to you.”

“Are you saying you expect us to fail?” His brows shot up. “Before you even give us a try?”

“I don’t want to be the thing that stands in the way of you and your dream.” You confess. “What if things did go wrong between us? We hardly know each other, Harry! You can’t be certain-”

“I know enough about you, Y/N.” He let out a confused laugh. “But, the fun thing about relationships is the learning part! It’s okay that we don’t know everything about one another.”

“You’re not scared at all?” You asked. “What if we break up and it’s one of those really bad breakups? I wouldn’t be able to go to games anymore to support my father, and he’s going to ask why.”

“I refuse to let it end poorly.” He shook his head. “I don’t know if you’ve realized, but I’m pretty determined about getting what I want, and I want a chance to love you, Y/N.”

Love.

That warm, ooey-gooey feeling that would slowly take over your entire life.

Love.

In a few moments, you could see it all flash before your eyes.

Your first date with Harry.

Your first time.

Your first fight.

Your first, I love you.

Seconds later, you were launching into his arms.

When your lips pressed against his, it was messy. You put too much force behind your kiss, and you nearly knocked him onto his back as he wrapped his arms around you. When you pulled away, it was only for a second. You pressed your lips back into his with more purpose, a gentle kiss slowly sending that warm feeling up your spine. You didn’t care about the consequences or the rules at this moment. All you could think about was how great it felt to go after the one thing you really wanted.

Harry.

“Easy there, lovie.” He pulled back, pressing a breathless kiss to your nose. “We’ve got plenty of time, I promise.”

“You can’t promise that.” You dropped your head down to the crook of his neck. “But I’ll take it for now.”

Harry chuckled, softly squeezing you in his arms before he pulled back.

“Lay with me?” He asked. “I wanted to show you the stars when I pulled you out here.”

“Oh.” Your cheeks grew warm. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “It was worth it.”

After you rolled your eyes, Harry plopped his but down on the grass.

Seconds later, he helped you down with his hands on your waist. You lay down next to each other, your fingers laced together as you looked up at the night sky. The silence that washed over you was almost therapeutic. You were mesmerized, amazed that you could actually see the stars clearly, no smog blocking your view of the bright lights.

“Is that the little dipper?” You lifted your hand up, pointing at the constellation.

“Yeah,” Harry said softly. “That one over there is the big dipper.”

“Wow.” You whispered. “It’s breathtaking.”

“When I’m done walking you home, I always come back.” He said softly. “I lay out here for hours, mostly thinking about you, and my family, and this wonderful opportunity I’ve been gifted.”

“You think about me when you’re thinking about all of those things?” You turned your head towards him. “That makes me sound like I’m special.”

“You are.” He said. “You were the first person I met here, besides your Father, and...I don’t know. Something about you just makes me feel so happy and so full. I don’t feel so homesick when you’re around.”

“I know the feeling.” You smiled softly at him.

You moved your body closer to his, resting your head against his shoulder.

You had a feeling that this was the start of something great.

#baseball!harry #uni!harry #stargazing #stars in our eyes #original fic #one shot #harry styles one shot #sfc #summer fic challenge #helladirections

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