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heauxplesslydevoted · 3 years

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Coming Down (Ethan x MC)

Summary: They break up. Dassit

A/N: I’ve been tired of this imposter Ethan, and the back of forth nature of his romance route for the entirety of book 3, so I wrote this.

Warnings: None

Title Inspo

~v~

Naomi’s fingernails tap impatiently against her leg as the shrill ring of her cell phone rings at her ear. It rings 5 long times before she’s sent to voicemail.

“Hello, you’ve reached Dr. Ethan Ramsey. I’m sorry for not answering your phone call, but leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you.”

“Ethan, it’s me...again. I haven’t heard from you in,” lifting her wrist, Naomi checks the time on her watch, “wow, in over 24 hours. I’ve been calling and calling, to no avail, and you just aren’t responding.”

The news of Ethan getting hit with a malpractice lawsuit hit her like a freight train. As soon as things started to feel good again, as soon as the diagnostics team started to find its rhythm with two new physicians, this torpedoes any chance of normalcy she could ever experience.

“If you could give me a call back and let me hear the sound of your voice, that’d be great. Bye.”

There’s a lot more that she wants to say, but she’s been given a limited window of time so Naomi hangs up.

Switching tactics, Naomi opens up her messages, and scrolls to her thread with Ethan.

Naomi: Hi

Naomi: Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in a while.

Naomi: Can you at least reply, telling me to leave you alone?

Naomi: At this point, I’d settle for at least knowing if you’re alive.

She waits a few minutes, and when she gets no response, she shoves her phone into the pocket of her white coat. Anxiousness and worry pools in the pit of her stomach, and the only thing she can think about is Ethan’s well being. And this situation doesn’t bode well because Naomi is still in the middle of her shift.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of quiet chatter as the door to the diagnostics team’s office opens and in walks Tobias and Harper. Their conversation is cut short once they notice the youngest member of the team.

“Hi, Naomi,” Tobias greets, an easygoing smile adorning his face. “What’s up?”

She wishes she could feel as casual as he looks, because every part of her body is twisted inside out and turned upside down.

“Have either of you talked to Ethan today?” Naomi asks, skipping the pleasantries.

“I spoke to him yesterday just to gauge how he was handling the malpractice suit,” Tobias answers. “Obviously, the conversation didn’t last long because he and I rarely interact outside of these four walls, but he seems…” he trails off when he notices Naomi’s face fall. “What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

Any other time, Naomi would be ecstatic to hear about Tobias extending an olive branch, and Ethan actually accepting the support, but today isn’t that day. She’s been trying to get in touch with him all day with no success, but he answers a phone call from his sworn enemy?

“I haven’t heard from Ethan today, so I’m at least glad to know he’s breathing,” Naomi says, her voice tight.

Too caught up in her own pity party, Naomi misses the way Tobias and Harper exchange worried glances. The team has been through enough the past few months, the last thing they need is romantic friction between Ethan and Naomi seeping into the office.

“Maybe he’s turned his phone off since then?” Tobias suggests. “Times like this can force you into an introspective mood, and he’s probably going technology free.”

Naomi chuckles humorlessly. She appreciates Tobias’s effort to satiate her foul mood, but she can’t think of a single excuse short of death that could justify Ethan’s behavior.

She stands, dusting off her coat and straightening it out. “Thanks. I’m going to get some lab work done on our patient, page me if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

Without another word, Naomi exits the office.

Working helps slightly. For an hour or so, Naomi is successful in turning off her brain and focusing diligently on work. She manages to not think about Ethan at all.

Until she hears his name brought up in conversation. She’s strolling towards the nurse's station when she sees Sarah and another nurse, Ronnie huddled in a corner.

“Sounds like Dr. Ramsey’s not as perfect as everyone thinks, huh?”

“Screwing up a standard tracheotomy that way? Frankly, I’m just surprised it took the patient this long to sue!”

Naomi slows her steps before she stops walking all together. The nurses are so engrossed in their conversation, they don’t even notice her.

“I heard from Marlene that the patient wouldn’t have even needed a trach if they hadn’t dosed her wrong in the first place,” Sarah adds in an excited whisper.

“Seriously? That’s next level…”

Her first instinct is to stop this, to tell them to stop talking, the urge to protect Ethan still as strong as it’s always been.

But she stops herself from doing that. Because why should she? Why should she put forth the effort to defend the honor and reputation of a man that doesn’t even have the decency to answer her phone calls?

And just like that, she’s plunged back into her flurry of conflicting emotions: worry, fear, annoyance, and most of all, anger. The emotions war inside her, all fighting for dominance, and she hasn’t felt like this since her intern year when he left to go to South America without any sort of goodbye or correspondence.

That wasn’t a good period in her life. Naomi can still feel the cold grip of anxiety that plagued her chest when she came into work one day and he was nowhere to be seen. She heard through a LVN that he left before confirming it with Naveen. She can still taste the saltiness of the tears she shed after leaving her 5th unanswered voicemail. Experiencing such a high of beating her ethics trial and getting picked for the diagnostic team, and the low of him leaving in that short amount of time left her spiraling and isolated, and it took entirely too much time clawing herself out of that dark place.

Turning on her heel, Naomi speed walks in the other direction, her original plan long forgotten. The hospital passes her by in a blur as her legs move, the rest of her body and brain moving on autopilot.

She doesn’t stop moving until she’s in front of the residents’ lounge. She spots Aurora, Bryce, and Sienna sitting at a table.

“Naomi, come join us!” Sienna exclaims. “We’re going to make cappuccinos with this fancy machine.”

“I’ll have to take a raincheck on that,” Naomi says. She turns to Bryce. “Can I borrow your car keys please?”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just have a couple errands to run and I don’t feel like taking the train. I’ll bring it back with a full tank of gas and everything.”

“I’m not gonna nitpick you about gas, Omi.” Bryce’s warm gaze sweeps across Naomi’s face, studying her. If he notices anything wrong with her, which he probably does because Bryce is a lot more perceptive than he gives himself credit for, he thankfully doesn’t mention it. He reaches into the pocket of his mint green scrub pants and pulls out his keys. He tosses the keys to Naomi with a wink, and she catches them mid air.

“I keep a shovel in the trunk in case you need to bury a body.”

Whether he realizes what is going on with her, or if he just cracked a joke to lighten the mood, Naomi is grateful either way.

~v~

Naomi spends an hour driving around Boston, people watching and attempting to collect her thoughts before she ends up in Back Bay at Ethan’s apartment complex. She didn’t want to go to his house in her previous state, guns blazing and emotions all over her place.

Even on the ride on the elevator up to his unit, her stomach is in knots and her heart beats faster than normal. She hasn’t been this nervous about seeing Ethan in a long time, and it dawns on her just how fucked this entire situation is. Why should she be nervous to talk to the man who claims to want to be with her?

Steeling her nerves, Naomi issues three sharp knocks to Ethan’s front door. Approximately 45 seconds pass before the door opens.

“Naomi!” Ethan’s eyes widen when he sees her standing there. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you going to let me in, or should we have this conversation in the hallway?” Naomi asks. Ethan steps aside, widening the door so Naomi can enter. “Thank you.”

The apartment is stale, like Ethan hasn’t opened the windows in a few days. He looks disheveled, the bags under his eyes are extremely pronounced like he hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

For lack of a better word, Ethan is a mess. And she wants nothing more than to just...wrap her arms around him and make everything better. But she doesn’t. She keeps her distance.

Ethan shuts the door before turning back to her. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No.”

“Well let’s sit down.”

“No, I think I’d rather stand because I don’t plan on being here long.”

The coldness stuns Ethan. Naomi almost seems indifferent towards him, something he’s never experienced before. It doesn’t go unnoticed that she didn’t bother greeting him warmly, no hug or kiss, no excitement in her voice, nothing.

“I needed to see with my own two eyes that you were alive and well,” Naomi starts. “Because you’ve gone radio silent on me. I know you’ve seen me calling and texting. Your phone works just fine because you picked up a call from Tobias of all people.”

He averts his gaze, ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry, I–”

She holds up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. Naomi doesn’t believe for one second that he’s apologizing due to actual remorse. “I have spent the entire day wracked with intense worry. I feel like I’ve been turned upside down, and I could barely focus on work. Every time I thought I could be productive, something or someone was there to remind me of you. And then I’d spend more time ruminating over you and your situation, and the fact that you’re ignoring me, and then I’d feel like absolute shit. And earlier today, as I listened to the nurses gossip about you, I realized that this feels so much like your two month sabbatical to the Amazon, and our relationship hasn’t changed at all since then.”

“That’s not true,” Ethan argues.

“It is,” Naomi insists. “One step forward doesn’t mean anything if we end up taking two steps back immediately afterwards. A year and a half later, you’re still holding me at arms length, keeping yourself closed off, ignoring my calls.”

“I don’t mean to do this, to be this way.”

“But you continue to do it, so at this point you have to see it��s a pattern. You won’t even open up and talk to me about this lawsuit that’s being waged against you.”

“I just don’t want you getting needlessly involved.”

“While it’s a noble excuse, it’s complete and utter bullshit. If you think you’re doing something to save my reputation, remember nothing you do will ever top me almost losing my medical license my intern year, and then having a resident face a malpractice lawsuit a few months later. So come on, give me another excuse.”

“I’m doing this for you!”

“How? How could this possibly be for me?”

“Everything I touch becomes tainted!” Ethan snaps. “Because there is something wrong, in which everyone arounds me leaves or dies, or everything falls apart. I don’t have control or autonomy over anything, so yes, the one precious thing in my life, I’m too scared to touch.”

“But I have been right here with you! I was right here in this exact same spot when we worked on Naveen’s case. I sat by your side while we watched over Dolores’s son. I was there when they wheeled your mother into the hospital, and when you took her to rehab. Time and time again, I’ve proven to you that my loyalty is steadfast, and not once have I ever wavered, so you don’t get to stand here and punish me for some unrealized fear. You don’t get to treat me like I’m a passenger in this relationship, if you can even call it that.”

That’s what gives him pause. “Of course this is a relationship.”

“This isn’t a relationship, I am just a woman you sleep with. Occasionally you open up to me, we share a cute moment and promises, and then you clam up and up goes the barriers, and it starts all over again. And every single time, we’re a little bit deeper into this thing we’re in. I’ve shared more, I’ve let myself be more vulnerable with you, emotionally and physically, I’ve deluded myself into thinking ‘This time it’s the real thing,’. And I’m afraid that this is going to be our reality. One day I wake up, 3 years in, tentatively living with you, trying to settle into the pieces of a life I’ve scrounged up with you, and you do this again.”

“I don’t speak on it, and I don’t like to because I try to keep it all together, but you don’t understand the toll it takes on me every time we do this back and forth. I was a train wreck when you quit. I had the trial looming over my head, Landry, a guy I considered one of my closest friends betrayed me in the worst possible way, you weren’t the only person scared of losing Naveen, and I couldn’t even verbalize any of it to you because you slammed a door in my face when I tried to bring it up, and then you left me. And then you did it again, and I spent two months worried that you might not even come home because you could contract the deadly disease you were off fighting. And then you go on national television declaring your relationship status, and you made promises to me on my deathbed that led nowhere, and then finally we make some headway in Hawaii and establish what we have going on, and then I come home to this. So while you say one thing to me, time and time again, your actions say otherwise. It’s clear I’m not a priority.”

This conversation triggers Ethan’s fight or flight response. He doesn’t know where this conversation is headed, but he’s smart enough to know it’s nowhere good.

“Naomi, what are you saying? Spell it out to me like I’m a preschooler.”

“I think we need a break,” Naomi says in one breath, afraid she’ll break if she prolongs this any further. The six words leave a sour taste in her mouth that she has to choke back.

“No,” Ethan’s tone is gruff, and the seriousness almost startled Naomi. “No, we’re not breaking up.”

“From where I’m standing, we already have,” Naomi retorts. “I’m just confirming it.”

Ethan takes one long stride towards Naomi, but she takes a step back. “Look, I am a daft asshole to put it mildly, and I know I have a lot of work to do, but this is by no means a reason for us to break up.” He takes another step forward, and now Naomi is backed up against the door. He tugs her forward, wrapping his arms around her. “I am sorry. I know the words probably sound hollow, but trust me when I say I mean it. I’ll fix this, I’ll do whatever it takes. You’re the only person I want, the only one I’ll ever want, and I’m not losing you. Not now, not ever.”

Through this right embrace, Naomi can feel just how rapidly his heart is beating. He’s scared.

A tear slips from the corner of her eye, and she’s too drained to even wipe it away. “This is reactionary. You’re saying all of this because you’re panicked, but if you meant any of what you just said, it wouldn’t take the threat of a breakup in order to want to change things.”

“It shouldn’t have taken me this long to realize what a fool I’ve been,” Ethan says. He refuses to let go of her, his arms still wrapped so tightly around her petite frame, he almost worries about crushing her.

“I agree.” What does that even mean? She gives him nothing more than that, and Ethan is left to stew in his own doubt and worry. Naomi breaks free of his embrace and presses a palm to his chest, signaling him to give her some space. “But I still think we need some space.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Trust me, I do.”

It becomes hard to breathe. When Ethan woke up this morning, the last thing he expected was Naomi to dump him. “What can I do? Tell me how to fix this. Do you want consistency? Done, I’ll talk to you every single day, multiple times a day. Transparency? Sit down right now, and I’ll explain this entire lawsuit top to bottom. You want proof that I’m never going to up and leave again, you can take my fucking passport. Naomi, I don’t care what I have to do, I will do it, but I will not accept you walking out of that door.”

Naomi inhales deeply, trying to stop a full son from bursting out of her chest. He’s saying all the right things, but at the wrong time. It’s too late now. “I’ve warred with myself all day about this decision. You’re clearly not in the right space to sustain a healthy relationship, and that’s fine. I just need to remove myself from the situation, for my own health and well-being. And I think you need to do the same.”

“So...what? This is it? It’s over?”

“Let’s be honest Ethan, you never gave us the opportunity to begin.” She wants to touch him so badly, reach out a run her hand through his hair or stroke his beard one more time. It takes everything in her to not. “You’re a great doctor, one of the best ones I know, so I really hope you beat this entire lawsuit and I get to see you back at Edenbrook. Take care of yourself, Ethan.

Ethan shakes his head in denial. He refuses to let things end like this, and for her to give him the same cool professionalism she extends to every other coworker.

“Naomi, wait–”

She’s out of his apartment before he can convince her to stay. It doesn’t register until he hears the soft click of her door shutting that she’s actually gone. And another minute passes before the gravity of the situation finally dawns on him.

For the first time in a long time, he’s truly alone.

~v~

Tags: @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest @schnitzelbutterfingers @missmiimiie @stateofgracious @mooons-isabelle @doilooklikeiknow

#playchoices #choices: stories you play #open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #dr. ethan ramsey

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essaysbyciara · 3 years

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It’s Been A Long Time | Nebraska Williams x Black!PlusSize Reader [Part 1/?]

Warnings: language, smut thoughts (my ministry!)

So this has been in my drafts for a *HOT MINUTE* but that photo of Trevante in high school triggered a release. If people dig where it could be going, I will add it to my list of stuff to finish and open up a taglist. I’ll try my best to do so, I promise! lol

“God, I played this album out…” Lil’ Wayne’s seminal album, The Carter, didn’t age at all. Back in 2004, Wayne was a secret about to bubble over to superstardom, just years shy of lollipops and Static Major (rest in peace). Wayne represented the teenage angst of your time, even though you toiled in the suburbs while he wrestled with the streets. But as “On My Own” damn near explodes your factory speakers, a high pitch ping from your phone pauses your trip down memory lane.

Message from Sheena: Let’s catch up before the babies wake up.

You hit the call button on your dash once you stop at a red light.

“Girl, hey. You on your way to work?”

“Ain’t I always, Shi Shi? Damn near almost overslept. Thought I missed my flight.”

Sheena, or Shi Shi, is the epitome of a best-friend-forever. You two met in Ms. Grayson’s civics class, 11th grade. On the first day of school, you rolled into third period wearing a Scream Tour II t-shirt and if you were to describe Sheena in that moment, jealous wasn’t even the word. She stanned hard for Lil’ Bow Wow but her mom wouldn’t let her go to the concert because she got caught with a boy in her room. That boy is now the husband half-way responsible for the twin girls she’s hoping will give her some grace by sleeping a little bit longer.

“Damn. You wanna gift some of that sleep to these twins, God mommy?”

“Only if you gift me some of those post-pregnancy boobs, Mommy Dearest,”

“Can’t do that. Jarell been having too much fun with those!”

“Girl, eww. I don’t need to know all that.”

You kinda did. Sheena’s stories were always live, wild and uncut. And the only fireworks you’ve been adjacent to in months since you broke up with that lame stockbroker, Keith. You curve around the airport parking lot as Sheena starts digging deep into her latest soft-core episode with her husband since the six weeks ain’t up yet. In between interjections of how nasty Jarrell could be and watching planes taxi in the distance, you cruise through Instagram to take inventory of what your day might be like.

Managing social media for the biggest sports publication in the country was not the fulfillment of a dream after high school because, shit, social media didn’t exist when you were in high school. But it’s what has you just hours away from a flight to the NFL Combine in Indianapolis, sitting in a parking lot, listening to your BFF’s slow burn sexcapades. You break up the audio immersion experience once your timeline displays something else to ruminate over.

“Sheena! Shi -- shut up! I can’t believe - you remember Lisa from high school? She got married ...and it ain’t to Brasco.”

“Whaaaa… you can finally stop making u-turns in the hallway and snag your man!”

You didn’t appreciate the lowly dig from your friend about Nebraska “Brasco” Williams, star running back, track champion and boy so fine he made both Omarion and J-Boog look like ogres. Your high school crush had you shook to your pubescent core; pretty teeth, deep skin tone and two tattoos before the age of eighteen. You’d see him in the student parking lot with the rest of the football team and you’d rush to your car as if it would go home without you. He was too hot to handle. You were beyond envious that Lisa could.

“Lisa ain’t do too bad. Her man is crazy fine. I mean, not Brasco fine but still…”

“Man, he had high school going crazy. I wonder what happened to him after that fight? I should stalk him on Facebook while I pump.” You laugh so hard, the couple walking past your car stops their argument to stare at you.

Your laughs break once you realize you might actually miss that flight. You relegate Shi Shi to kiss the twins for you and to send his Facebook profile if she can actually find it. You tried years ago and failed.

“Aight, fave. I will. Love you. Text me when you touch down in Indy.”

As you weave through the terminal, your mind thinks back to the days at New Birth High School. While it brought you joy in a forever friend and the launching point for your forever career in sports journalism, it did bring you one of the most hurtful days of your life that took years to shake.

It was the summer going into your senior year. Lisa’s sweet sixteen pool party. No way in Hell you thought you’d be there but your Mom and Lisa’s stepmom sat on the same deacon board at church and somehow thought you two were friends; Lisa paid you dust in those hallways. You fretted over every part of your outfit, especially the swim shoes you didn’t want but your Dad picked up at Sports Authority. But you were fretting the most over your swimsuit, a red one-piece with a deep open back. It was sexy for a 16-year-old, to be honest, but you secretly tried it on at the mall and fell in love with it -- especially how it made you feel.

You fell in deep love with your body that day. The way the swimsuit clenched your waist, giving your almost-pear shape some definition you’d never seen before. Your hips sat wide, your breast placed taunt, just peeking through the sides, showing off a crescent shaped birthmark right below your collarbone. It was Jet Beauty of the Week-esque and it made you feel on top of the world. Something that society kept telling you a plus-size teenage girl was not to feel. You used the last of your paper route money to buy it and hid your secret weapon in the back of your closet until the day arrived. You were hoping to get some boy’s attention -- especially Brasco. But you’d take anybody’s glare if you could get it.

You were in the clear once your Mom dropped you and Sheena both off at Lisa’s back gate. As you walked into the party, the sounds of the local hip-hop and R&B radio station blasted throughout her huge backyard. So much fun was had -- so much splash and dash -- that the faint sounds of “Knuck If You Buck” failed to erupt a party full of teenagers it was made for. The pool seemed tempting in 90-plus heat but most of the temptation came from the jacuzzi next to it. There inside sat Brasco, his lanky on-field wide receiver sidekick Kenny and Jarell, Sheena’s partner-in-bedroom-bust crime looking delicious in their highlighter-color swim trunks. You were still figuring out your body and the reactions conjured up from the sight of water droplets chasing down their backs confused you even more. But the heat of the sun -- and the heat from your body -- got too much to bear. That pool called your name.

You stripped off your t-shirt and denim shorts, leaving your swim shoes back by the picnic table. They clashed. Your nerves splashed together like the water you couldn’t wait to feel, battering against your heart. Were you ready for all this attention? Amongst the rest of the classmates, you disappeared. You weren’t popular. People knew of you but didn’t know you, only associating you with Sheena by proxy of Jarell. “My Goodies” came on the radio, providing you a soundtrack and a sign from God. Before you could answer the call, Sheena jumped into the pool. You tossed your glasses on top of your clothes and did the same.

The water felt golden. Sheena smacked your face with sheets of chlorinated goodness. Too much fun was had by all, even Lisa joined in the fun. Suddenly the entire football team did too except Brasco and Jarell, languishing on the edge of the jacuzzi because like most boys from their side of town, they didn’t know how to swim. Lisa saw her boo in isolation and tapped Sheena on the shoulder.

“Hey, Shi Shi. Let’s get in the jacuzzi.” Sheena grabbed your hand to guide you out of the pool. You weren’t expecting to see your Mom at the other end. Sheena didn’t grab you to join her in the warm bubbles, she got you out at the angry-faced-behest of your mother. You both were going home. The party silenced and stares followed as everyone watched your walk-of-shame to grab your clothes. You got what you wanted in the worst way possible.

Your unholy exodus commenced when Lisa’s mom called yours to report what she saw: this red bathing suit too revealing for a little girl to wear. It wasn’t the green ruffled mess-of-a-bathing-suit from last year. She claimed to witness stares and whispers and “boobs hanging out, butt all out.” Your mom got over there quicker than a church shout. She waited to scold you after she dropped off Sheena.

It was a Sunday School scolding like no other. Tears pooled deep like the one you were just having fun in. You tossed the bathing suit into the trash bin. You were never going to see it again.

The announcement of your flight breaks you out of your day nightmare. Grabbing the handle on your suitcase, you see a text with an attachment from Sheena.

Girllllllllllll. I found Brasco and babyyyyyyyyyyy…

You gasp. Time did a wonder on him in all the right ways. He packed on even more muscle, chiseling out the navy thermal dressing his upper body. Teeth still bright, Moonlight-bright. His Omarion-Pandemonium-era braids were gone, now donning a clean fade with perfect waves. His stance meant business, a lot of it risky. You bite your lower lip to mask the “damn!” urging a release from you, staring at his picture so intensely that you damn near walk into the stewardess checking your boarding pass.

You couldn’t wait to get to your first-class seat. You needed a safe space to drown in your own splash waterfalls. You beg Sheena to send you his profile, looking to make some more of that mess and she obliges. Scrolling through his Facebook, you see nothing. You needed him to match your uncleanliness. Another text from Sheena breaks you out of your spell.

Ain’t shit on here though. I can’t find an Instagram or anything. That’s where the dirt is at lol

You put your social media skills to work. Ain’t an Instagram profile that you can’t find. Nebraska Williams brings up nothing. Such a unique name and nothing to show for it.

Maybe Jarell can follow him, Shi.

Jarell ain’t on this thing. He hates all this stuff. You want me to follow him?

Girl, yes! I need more pictures! I’m trying to find his ‘gram and no diceeeeeee. Ughhhh.

Damn the “no cell phone until after lift off” announcement. You then try “Brasco”, too many names -- rappers, really-- and a dog company to boot. “Brasco Williams” yields no results. You couldn’t wait what could be hours, days, weeks, maybe never, for a response from Brasco to Sheena’s friend request.

You pull up Google as a last ditch effort. The results bring up what only seems to be archives from your now-defunct city newspaper covering one of Nebraska’s record-setting games from 2005. You know to quit while you’re ahead until you see a Youtube video: “Nebraska Williams (RB) New Birth High School (MD). uploaded by Donyell Williams. You remember Donyell as this boy who played too damn much in Geometry class but right now, he’s Brasco’s cousin who's Instagram profile came up on the first search. Thank God his profile wasn’t private. You scroll back far enough to hit the jackpot.

I found it! @donniebrascowill is his Instagram.

Sheena was right about the dirt. His posts were bare but his stories carried enough. Enough shirtless, weightlifting, fresh-out-the-barbershop-got-to-show-you-the-fade dirt. You hit the follow button before the stewardess asked for your drink selection.

End of Part I

#trevante rhodes x reader #trevante rhodes x fanfiction #nebraska williams

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butcherknives · 3 years

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The Holidays with the Sparda Men

Prompt kinda got away from me and became more of a pre-game than an actual holiday moment, but hopefully it’s fun and enjoyable all the same.

Ft. GN! Reader from the Devil May Cry series

> SFW

At first you believe that holidays aren’t exactly his “thing.” That it’s painted by a religion that isn't his, and it’s too bathed in traditionalism where Dante is anything but, between his attitude, his appearance, and his lifestyle. You think this, yet as the holidays grow closer, you notice that his mood seems to weaken and crumble. He isn’t irritable or sour. No, that isn’t it at all. You know Dante and his facades; this you recognize as depression.

You live within your perplexity only for a short time before you decide to ask. Side by side on the worn leather couch, your knee pressed against his as he reclines in a languid arch, you pose your observation with as much tact as you can muster. “You seem down.”

Without turning his head, his eyes slide toward you. He sweeps over your expression and you can feel the way he’s analyzing – likely approximating what you’ve gleaned. With quiet huff though his nose, he closes his eyes and leans his head back. “Well, damn. And here I thought I was the embodiment of ole Saint Nick.”

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

The silence that stretches is full of rumination. Dante is weighing his options, isn’t he? Considering if it’s worth telling you the truth. Your heart hammers in your chest as he measures you, weighs you, and finds you...

“I always feel kinda eh around the holidays.”

...worthy.

You wait with hopeful patience, quelling your thoughts and over-eager questions because there’s a physical shift, one there beneath the immediate surface, that tells you he has more to say. You rest your hand on his thigh and tip forward, attempting to remain a source of comfort.

He cracks one eye open to peek at you. The look you offer makes him sigh, sit up, and shake his head on a roll of his shoulders. “I guess it reminds me of my family. You know, sad little boy stuff.”

Oh.

What had the holidays been like before tragedy? And what had they been like prior to your arrival? You simmer on this for perhaps too long because Dante is visibly retreating into himself with that sideways, self-deprecating smile that warns you precisely where he’s about to bury his emotions. You rise to your feet. “Your family!”

He tips his head, lips flattening into pulled confusion-mirth-weariness that makes you switch your hips on a sheepish laugh.

“Yeah,” you continue. “What about your family?” The light has yet to click on. You continue with swelling emotion. “Vergil and Nero? And Lady, and Trish...” You bounce on the balls of your feet. “We could invite them over and do something fun. Like... Like a party.”

There’s slow realization dawning like the sunrise across Dante’s face and it’s equal in beauty. The sparkle in his eyes; the smile curling at his lips as he drops his forearms into his lap and leans forward until he’s grinning with silent, crinkled laughter. “A party, huh?”

“A holiday office party,” you say with an eager nod.

This does make him laugh. “You might just be onto something.”

“So, what do you think?” You watch as he rises to stand in front of you, his hand combing through his hair. “I think we could pull it off together. It could be a lot of fun.”

“Alright,” he says with an exaggerated shrug. “What the hell?” As lackadaisical a response it is, you can see his happiness. “You wanna decorate? I’ll send out the invitations.”

You agree with a grin, tipping forward to kiss his scruffy cheek, and as you saunter off toward the desk to gather a piece of scrap paper and a pen to start your planning, you feel much lighter than you had before.

“Hey,” he says and you spin to look. “Think we could get Morrison to dress as Santa?”

You laugh.

Vergil doesn’t seem to care that the holidays are around the corner, nor does he indicate any desire to celebrate. You’ve been mulling over how to breach the subject, not from fear but rather uncertain of what judgement he may pass. Surely, if you find any importance in the season, Vergil will indulge you to the best of his ability; you know this and yet you find yourself wondering if he’s fully against them in their entirety. He’s shown open disinterest in religion – Fortuna, you deduce, left a bad taste – but you think, perhaps, he might be open to a bit of spirit. At the very least, you’d love the excuse to have him spend time with the rest of his family.

Your answer comes in the form of a red wax-sealed envelope delivered to your home. Perplexed, you study the writing on the worn paper and see there is no return address listed. Curiosity guides your hands to the seal yet you stop yourself, deciding to share this moment with Vergil.

You find him in the study with several opened books across his desk, exactly as he had left them the night before. The door is open yet you knock to announce your presence. He doesn’t look up as he waves you in.

“I’ve yet to decipher these texts,” he says as you plop into the armchair across from where he stands. “I’m afraid the language may be too far removed from more recent demon tongue.”

“It’s fascinating how even demon language evolves.” He raises his gaze and you smile, lifting the envelope for him to see. “By the way, this came in the mail today. It’s got a wax seal. Think it might be important?”

Vergil’s attention flits to the envelope, then back to you. “Ominous.”

“Mm,” you agree. “Could be some wild invitation to battle to the death. Shall I open it?”

He nods, gesturing with a hand to carry on. You find anticipation builds as you peel back the seal and remove the folded letter within. The handwriting is scrawled, the penmanship overly decorated, but the words are thick, black and bold, as if written with an inkwell.

“Might need some more books to decipher this text, too,” you say with a snort, flashing the paper at Vergil who rolls his eyes in amusement. “Well, let’s see if I can read it.” You clear your throat with theatrics and shake the letter out, settling into your chair. “Dearest brother,” you start before you laugh. “Oh, spoiler alert.”

Vergil pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dante...”

“Ever the showman,” you answer. “Okay, here we go.”

Dearest brother, I hope this letter finds you in good health and with haste, as time is not on our side. With the change of the season, I find myself longing to indulge in what has been described to me only as “holiday spirit.” It is for this reason that I cordially invite you and your love to my humble home for drink, company, and merriment. Sincerely, Dante

There’s a silence that follows during which Vergil rises to his full height. He closes his eyes while he folds his arms across his chest. You’re biting back your delight. “He sure knows how to make an entrance,” you say.

Vergil shakes his head before he holds out his hand, and without hesitation, you give him the letter. He scans the paper with pursed lips and brows drawn, then exhales a long-suffering sigh. “My brother has a propensity for theatrics.”

“And you don’t?”

He turns to you and for a moment, he seems scandalized. He flattens his expression. “It seems as though you already have an opinion.”

“The correct opinion.” There’s a playful thread between your banter and you can’t help but smile. “But so...” You tip your head and pull an accent that isn’t yours, “What say you?”

Vergil stares. For a moment, you think he’s going to admonish you, and yet his smile simmers with a telltale gleam. Your heart soars.

“Shall we respond in kind?”

You’ve decorated your shared space with lights and a tree, filled the living room with cheerful music, and hung stockings above the heater where you’ve joked that it’s the closest to a fireplace you have. You do this, and never once has Nero complained. He’s even assisted with stringing the lights around the top of the wall, further than you can stretch. Despite not being quite as enthusiastic about the holiday, you appreciate his acceptance of yours.

Beneath the glow of the flickering multi-colored lights, you’re placing a new ornament on the tree when Nero enters the front door. Clutched in his hand is an open envelope, familiar prickled irritation in the line of his shoulders.

“Welcome back.” Your brows knot in surprise. “What’s that?”

“Something stupid,” Nero answers. “It’s from Dante.”

You grin as you rise to your feet, clamoring over to the entrance while he’s distracted with shutting the door. He gets out a quick, “Hey!” before you snatch the envelope from his grip, spinning out of immediate reach.

“Oh, a seal? Fancy,” you’re saying as you slide the letter from its confines. Nero is following behind you, but each half-hearted swipe has you dodging. It’s a joyous dance that makes you giggle and you know that Nero isn’t truly angry; it’s for show when he throws his hands up and lets out a long groan, collapsing in a chair in front of the television like a cut marionette. “Did you read it yet?”

He sighs, jiggling his knee. “Got as far as the first line.”

You grin. “Then let’s read it together, hm?” Moving to stand behind him, you drape your arms around his shoulders and orient the letter in front of you both, resting your chin on the top of his head. “Oh, his handwriting is...”

“Fucking awful?” Nero supplies.

“Ornate,” you agree with a laugh. “Well, let’s see if I can read it.”

Dearest nephew, I bid you and yours good tidings! I am writing to cordially invite you and your loved one to join me at my abode for a holiday celebration this solstice. Fret not, for I will provide accommodations during your stay in the city of Red Grave. Sincerely, Dante

“What –”

“A party!” You unravel yourself from Nero’s warmth to sidle around him, beaming. “We’re definitely going.”

Nero stares at you and you stare back. There’s silence while his expression works into exhaustion. Nero breaks it with a click of his tongue. “Why’d he have to invite us to a party like an old vampire?”

“Why not?”

He snorts. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Just never would’a taken Dante for a family holiday kinda guy.”

You tilt your head with a patient stare, considering. “Well, Dante hasn’t really had a family until recently.” Nero quirks a brow. “I mean, you only got real confirmation a few months ago and Vergil –”

“Yeah,” he interrupts, waving his hand. Right, you think. Still a sore spot. “So you think Dante’ll invite him?”

You nod your understanding, slow and careful. “I think that’s likely.”

Nero’s lips mesh together as he nods, eyes falling to the floor, faraway in thought.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” you say.

It takes Nero a moment to regain focus, but when he does, he’s looking at you with heavy deliberation. He’s reaching for your hands, drawing you into orbit until you’re standing between his knees. His thumbs rub small circles into your skin and you bask in his warmth. “You wanna go, right?”

“Could be fun,” you answer.

His chest fills on a deep inhale before he’s accepting his fate with surprising ease. “Okay, then can ya do me a favor and grab me the phone? I’ll let ‘im know.”

You grin. “You got it.”

#devil may cry #fulfilled requests #dante #vergil #nero #all-purpose writing tag #really hope you like this!#I enjoyed writing it and toying with the ideas #also I hope their distinct personalities cut through #thanks for requesting!#ps I know Dante's handwriting isn't actually bad but it's swirly and can be hard to read #especially in big fat ink #because he absolutely used a quill jsyk

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sweetestlamb · 3 years

Text

Come Undone

Author’s note: Well, I know I said it was coming this weekend but I decided to break it apart and post this part first. It’s another roller coaster but I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. Thank you to everyone who messages me and supports me and loves this story. I am so thankful for you. Enjoy my babies :) Thanks for the photo @prodmina, (I’ll use the other thing later in the story too) you are a doll and as always thank you @ewolfwitchwisegirl for this beautiful header!

p.s Crazy fun fact I had no idea what Seojun’s mom’s name was so I put random initials thinking I’ll check later and fix it. Only to guess completely right! I am so proud of myself LOL

She stands dumbfounded in his arms, unable to process the words that have left his lips. She couldn’t have heard him right, why on Earth would someone like him who had girls fighting to be his girlfriend want anything to do with her? Did he pity her that much? Was this the premise of a high school drama and he’d taken some sort of bet to befriend her? Somehow all of those options seem more feasible than him having genuine feelings for her.

But it’s her first real confession, she’s always seen others receive this and never experienced it herself. There had been some grandiose ones at school but she secretly tells herself she prefers this, just them two without an audience. it feels more intimate and authentic, as if he couldn’t wait another minute and his feelings for her overwhelmed him. Her heart is beating rapidly despite her deep calming breaths, he’s effectively turned her world upside down with just those small three words.

I like you.

She can’t control the way her heart flutters, but surely it would react that way to anyone? It wasn’t connected to the confession-er, she was merely affected because someone liked her that was human nature. It didn’t matter that it was Han Seojun, they were nothing to each other. Pity was surely clouding his emotions and she wanted no part in being there when he realized that and abandoned her, it was best not to get attached at all she argues with her traitorous heart.

Her phone brings her back to reality, suddenly she remembers where she’s meant to be right now and her father’s enraged face appears in her mind. He’d told her not to embarrass him, which meant she had to go on this date and paint on a happy face and pretend that she wasn’t dying inside. All for a man who treated her no better than scum under his shoes.

Pulling out the phone, Obligation flashes on her phone screen that’s all he was after all she’d already forgotten his name, it was of no importance to her. She doesn’t know if she should answer, still confused about her next step and while she’s ruminating a hand suddenly fills her vision and snatches the object from her hand. Twisting out of his hug she stares in shock before trying to grab the phone back, “Are you insane? Give it back!” But he steps back, putting more space between them as he holds the stolen object just out of her reach tauntingly using his looming height.

“Is this your date? Obligation.” He reads the name from the phone, venom in his voice and she’s taken back by his tone he’s hardly ever serious or cold with her. She’s seeing many different facets to his personality today.

“Han Seojun, give it back!” She demands, stomping her feet before lunging for the item, putting a hand on his shoulder for more leverage. But she miscalculates and her face smashes into his jaw making him cry out in pain and sending her flying forward her body crashing into his painfully, he steadies her with an arm around her waist bringing her dangerously close to him. Their eyes connect as if they are magnetized, just like that day in front of her house.

“Is this your answer, princess? You sure know how to hurt a guy.” She peers at him in bewilderment before searching his face, there’s not even a fraction of a smile on his lip and he refuses to meet her eyes. Gazing off into the distance although he’s speaking to her. He seems…hurt and he’s not doing a good job of hiding it at all, it’s written all over his face and she wonders vaguely what kind of world he must live in to be able to so freely reveal his feelings? She yearns to grab his lips and literally turn his frown upside down, smiles look much better on him.

“You mean it.” She whispers in awe, the ice around her heart defrosting as his palpable pain washes over her. He’d thought she was rejecting him for her “date”. He clearly wasn’t a great listener, she had no feelings for that guy it was just another part of her world that she had no control over. For some reason she wants to explain that to him, make him understand that in another universe maybe things would be different, maybe she would be allowed to want and she would explore this but this isn’t her reality, things are not that simple. Love isn’t an option for her.

“I told you. About my world, I can’t–”

“That’s just an excuse. You have a choice Sujin.” He states his word are cold as ice, he looks livid as he puffs out an exasperated breath of air and frantically runs his fingers through his hair.

Shoving him hard she sneers up at him before shouting in his face, “What choice do I have? I have control over nothing in my life, my first date is being stolen from me. I’ll probably have to kiss him too so that will also be stolen! I can’t control anything I didn’t even choose this outfit. None of this is my choice.” It’s not his fault, and he’s the one person that’s been there for her and that makes her even angrier, why isn’t she allowed to have this? Go on a date with a boy who might care for her, why is life cruel enough that this is being presented but she can’t grab onto it with both hands?

For the first time ever, he doesn’t deflate or back off like he usually does when they get to these moments, he’s usually her safety pin pulling her back from the edge of detonation so she’s not ready for him to scream back at her, “Then choose me! Fuck all of that, fuck your father.” He lifts up her phone which has started to ring again, “Fuck this guy! Just choose me, let me be your first.” They both stand still, staring at each other the jingle of her iPhone not enough to cut the thick coiling tension and then she watches in gaped surprise as he angrily slides her phone open. “Stop fucking calling, she’s not coming. She’s with her boyfriend.” Then he slides the phone close, finally handing it back to her looking at her with those hard glistening eyes. She looks at the phone and then back at him, eyes wide as the moon.

Stupefied and flustered she stutters out, “You’re n-n-ot my boyfriend. What are you doing?”

“Let me take you on a date. Pick me Sujin.”

They stand at an impasse, neither talking following the outburst but their eyes are locked having a conversation all their own. He looks impossibly young standing there asking to be chosen, he was always so shameless with his emotions uncaring about letting them ooze out of his pores. Although he was no longer saying anything, his face was screaming at her, his eyes were kneeling before her on bended knees.

When the phone vibrates again, she's so entranced that she doesn't make any move to check it so when the cab driver calls out her name from his window, she jumps in surprise at the sudden interruption.

"Ms. Kang Sujin?" He eyes them both, glancing back and forth as if he too can feel the tension laying heavy in the air between them.

After a moments pause she finally relays the message to her mouth to speak, answering quietly, "Yes. That's me."

Seojun watches her unwaveringly, never breaking eye contact to look at the driver. He's standing unnaturally straight, all of his usual swagger drained from his body as he watches to see what she'll do.

Turning to the cab, she reaches out a hand to grab the handle, the cool metal smooth in her grasp.

Pulling it open she turns to look at him one last time before making her decision, with an expressionless face she ultimately slides into the passenger seat. The leather squeaking over her naked thighs, primly she places the little white bag in her lap. When she finally focuses back on Seojun, the hurt on his face is almost too much to witness instead of hiding it like she would he lays it all at her feet, lips twisted in a broken snarl and his fingers clenched tightly by his side.

She waits for some kind of retaliation, for the switch to flick and for him to erupt on her for refusing to listen to his plea. Almost salivates at the idea of him showing her that this was all an act, he didn't truly like her once she rejected him he would lash out and whatever this was would be obliterated. No one was that good, she didn't deserve goodness.

"Text me later then. Let me know when you get home."

His voice is devoid of any anger, calm and smooth but tinged with resignation, gracefully accepting defeat and still concerned about her well-being. Surely he was created in a test tube, there's no reasonable explanation for the way he never reacts the way she expects- the way anyone would in his situation. A sad little smile spreads across his lips and it's the most despairing thing she's ever seen, she never wants to see it again not on his face. As he moves to slam the door shut, somehow still a gentleman even in this predicament, spontaneously she grabs his hand.

"Get in."

She can't believe the words that have left her mouth but she's also buzzing, why isn't she allowed to be selfish and take something that she wants? She can't promise him forever still, her life hasn't changed that drastically but she can give him today, give herself a real first date with someone who doesn't make her skin crawl.

He looks rightfully confused, she knows that she's not making any sense. Playing hot and cold. But her heart is telling her that she's allowed this, she has a choice and today she's joining herself. She's never done that before it's terrifying but maybe it'll be easier with him, maybe he can teach her how.

"Fuck that guy. Take me on a date." She whispers astonished repeating his own words , staring up at him for his response and the answering smile that spreads across his handsome face is enough to power a whole city. She almost beams back his happiness is that contagious.

He squeezes her gloved hand, sliding into the cab beside her their legs pressed closely together. She looks away, moving over discretely but he simply follows her boyish grin on his face, no one has ever smiled like that because of her; it's honestly mesmerizing.

Sounding thoroughly amused, the driver confirms her destination and she realizes she hadn't thought that far and she has no idea where they should go. Placing a burning hot hand on her knee, Seojun easily gets her attention.

"Do you trust me princess?"

She stares back at him, blooding pumping from his soulful tone and his skin on her skin. She's making a horrible mistake, she's sure of but she'll have regrets tomorrow. Boldly returning his look she nods mutely, forced to look away when he laughs so beautifully it makes her stomach drop. Today she does.

"No we have a new destination."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

She looks quizzically at said destination.

"A mall?" She scrunches her nose climbing out of the cab, brushing past him as he holds the door open for her. She tries to ignore the flapping in her stomach, his constant chivalry is a welcome surprise.

"Already doubting me princess? This isn't our date, I wouldn't bring you to a mall on our first date." He sounds affronted but in a teasing way and she wasn't prepared to hear him call this a date even though she'd said those same words herself minutes ago.

"Then why are we here?"

He opens the entrance door letting her go first, she's not sure she'll ever get used to this. He hasn't let her open one door since he chased her out of the coffee, using those long limbs every time to beat her to the door.

"You don't need to keep doing this?"

Now it's his turn to look quizzical, "Do what?"

They're walking side by side now, she notices that he's adjusted his steps to match hers. She hardly wears heels and walking in them is not her expertise, she'd only worn them because her father insisted claiming women should wear them on a date. It made them more appealing to men. She ha cringed in disgust at the comment.

"Open every door we encounter. I can open them too."

Suddenly he grabs her hand stopping her in the middle of the mall, she tries to tug her hand away no longer covered by her gloves but he tightens his hold preventing her from pulling away.

"You told me to take you on date. This is me on a date, I want to open all your doors. You picked me so just enjoy it, this is all for you." She stares at his small content smile embarrassed by his undivided focus on her. Her cheeks burning up without her permission she races away before he can see.

"Let's go."

But he's too quick, running ahead of her and walking backwards eyes scanning her face.

"Are you blushing? Was I too charming princess, did you heart flutter?" He teases her reaching out a hand to squeeze her cheeks, she smacks his hand away glaring at him.

"Shut up before I leave."

He winks in response nonplussed by her empty threat walking purposely before stopping in front of a retail store. Looking through the window she can see trendy clothes, definitely Seojun's style.

She gazes over at him unimpressed, "Did you bring me here to watch you shop?" He looks at her equally unimpressed before raising an eyebrow, "Come on princess. You have a lot to learn about me."

Still with this damn nickname and now because she hadn't reprimanded him enough it seemed it was here to stay.

Seojun walks over to a rack immediately, pulling out shirts and putting over her figure. Nodding his head before putting the article back and moving onto another rack.

I didn't even choose the outfit. Her own voice rings in her mind remembering their heated discussion on the sidewalk and suddenly it all makes sense they're here to get an outfit for her, something chosen by her.

"Do you like this?" He holds up another shirt, light blue with a cute picture of a puppy on the front. She sneers at him pushing the offending object away.

"I'm not five, why would I wear that?"

He shrugs at her putting the shirt in front of himself now, "What? I think it's cute. Wouldn't I look cute in it?"

He does, the idiot. His lips pushed out into a perfect pout matching the puppy on the shirt but before she can lie through her teeth and tell him no, another high pitched voice interrupts them.

"Oh! You are so handsome, I'm sure anything would look just delicious on you."

When she turns around she's greeted by a chipper store clerk, she doesn't look much older than them and she only has eyes for Seojun, not once looking in her direction despite being right next to her.

"Is it your first time here? Do you need help? What are you looking for?" The girl rapid fires out questions and she doesn't like the way her chest tightens watching the girl blatantly flirt with him. Clutching her fists she stalks off to a random rack not wanting to look bothered by the invasion, he's allowed to talk to whoever he wants. He's not hers nor she his.

She idly lifts a white T-shirt, it's plain besides a small upside triangle design on the pocket. She knows the brand, they're part of a nonprofit company that gives all their proceeds to children homes. She searches for her size resisting the urge to see what Seojun's doing. He startles her when he peeks over her shoulder his chin almost landing on her collar.

"You like that?" He croons into her ears appearing out of nowhere.

She twists around hoping to put some space between them only to lose her breath at the sight of him, he's removed his bomber jacket standing in a black T-shirt but that's not what catches her attention, it's the dark winding dragon weaving intricately down his bicep. The swirls of black and dark blues of the creature's body are captivating as gray smoke curls out of the dragon's mouth. "It's new." He flexes the arm, bringing it closer to her until it's close enough for her to touch. So she does. Trailing a finger from the dragon's head almost on his wrist and meandering up his arm, stopping at the edge of his shirt sleeve where the tattoo disappears. Realizing what exactly she's doing she snatches her hand away, putting the wayward appendage behind her back.

His eyes are dark when she glances up but neither of them fill the silence, she shuffles going back to the rack and absently pulling out a pair of black jeans.

"I've always liked dragons. They're larger than life and nobody messes with them."

It sounds like he's describing himself, or the persona she's seen at school. The school heart-throb with girls fawning over him and boys wanting to be him, his motorcycle, piercings and now tattoos only adding to his allure. On paper he was the quintessential bad boy but she knew now that wasn't entirely accurate. She'd seen how protective he was of his sister and how doting he was of family, he loved his family and it was clear that the feeling was mutual. And then there was the way he treated her, he was something more than what everyone saw.

Lamely she only replies, "I didn't know you had tattoos."

Thrusting his other hand into her face he shows his wrist, small letters are branded there. Initials.

GW. MH

"GW....Go-woon."

He nods agreeing, "Yeah these were my first tattoos, my mom and sister’s initials. After my father passed away I had to step up, I wanted a reminder that I had people worth living for."

She freezes at his admission, unprepared for the personal and revealing turn this conversation has taken. His face is blank but those eyes, they never lie they are brimming with emotions. She has to fight the urge to hug him, instead patting him on the shoulder.

"Your family loves you. They're lucky to have you."

They aren't the only ones but that's too much for today. She has already reached her mistake quota.

He leans into her touch, resting his head on her shoulder for only a moment before straightening up and smiling.

"Didn't know you were capable of giving compliments princess, I feel special."

She lets him break the tension knowing that he probably didn't intend to open up that much, his cheeks are dusted in red confirming her inkling.

"Don't get used to it. You hardly do anything worth complimenting."

They slip back into their usual banter, as she searches for a dressing room thankfully there's no line and she goes in. After changing she looks at herself in the full sized mirror, she tucks the edge of the shirt into her pants. It's simple but it's more her, the real her. Her father insists that they wear the most expensive clothes and she owns many different brands but most days she'd rather just dress like this and not feel like she's on an imaginary runway. Pulling the door open, she almost collides with Seojun not prepared from him to be waiting right outside her door.

He changed too, and she blinks at him.

"We're not wearing matching outfits. Go change." She states blankly.

He chuckles softly, straightening the already perfect shirt on his body. He added a silver chain and black boots to his outfit and she groans internally because she'd also planned on pairing her outfit with black boots.

"It just happened. I guess our style is compatible." He winks at her going to model in front of the mirror.

"Why are you even here? Shouldn't you be in the men's dressing room?" She hisses at him as he preens in the glass.

She gets her answer in the form of a familiar high pitched tone.

"Oh it looks great on you! You have to get it, it really shows off your arms." Then she watches in dismay as the other girl actually reaches out to touch his arm, Seojun smoothly moves out of her reach but the girl is adamant and places a hand on his back instead standing next to him by the mirror.

Her eyes squint in annoyance, he might not be hers but the outfits should have made it obvious that they were something to each other but the girl was choosing to turn a blind eye. She stops holding back. This is all leaving a bad taste in her mouth. Interjecting easily, she moves the proprietary hand on Seojun's back with a flick of her wrist.

"Do you accost all your customers like this?" She deadpans at the other girl, watching her eyes widen before her face morphs into a tense smile that doesn't reach her eyes.

"I didn't notice you there. Is she your sister?" The store clerk defers back to Seojun as if dismissing her completely and in the corner of her eyes she sees the hard glint of his jawline, he doesn't look pleased. That gives her the courage for her next action.

"Do you usually buy matching outfits with your siblings? We're on a date. We don't need your help as you can see, we already have what we need." She motions between them and their matching outfits, watching the other girl who looks ready to scream before turning to Seojun with beguiling eyes, as if begging him to deny her words.

He wraps an arm around her shoulder, pressing their sides tightly together. The other girl looks at them in disbelief before he answers in his deep voice, "You heard my girl. I'm off limits."

She tells her heart to calm down, this is all a show after all. It was about the principle of the matter, she didn't appreciate this complete stranger ruining her first date. It wasn't about Seojun in particular. He wasn't hers, she knew that. They both watch as she stomps off, angry blush on her face and retort under her breath. Sujin's tempted to follow her and hear what she's saying under her breath, but she collects herself. Turning to Seojun she complains, "This is how you act on a date? Flirting with other girls?"

He gasps at the accusation pressing a hand against his heart, "I never flirted. I told her I wasn't interested when you left the first time. I didn't think you'd be the jealous type though. "

She opens her mouth to deny that claim despite all the evidence proving otherwise but he beats her to it.

"I like it." He ruffles her hair before walking off. She stands there in gaped mouth surprise, how dare he? After picking her jaw up off the ground, they finally join the line, clothes folded in their arms. Deciding to change back into them after ringing up the order.

They get ringed up by another store clerk, when she tries to pull out her credit card Seojun looks at her like she's personally offended him.

"I'm paying. Don't bother arguing, this is me on a date."

"You two are so cute! I love your matching outfits." The cashier coos at them missing the cold glare from her co-worker in the distance.

As they leave the store she waves snidely at the other girl, even allowing Seojun to rest his arm on her shoulder to put on a even more convincing show.

She knows she's being petty but the other girl started it, she's just finishing it. Maybe next time she wouldn't flirt with boys who were with other girls, she was teaching her a life long lesson.

"You're something else princess."

As soon as they get outside, the store clerk no longer in sight she pushes his hand away. They need to redraw the line in the sand he's getting too comfortable touching her and calling her that nickname. And she might be getting too comfortable hearing it.

"That's enough. Stop calling me that." She expects him to be annoyed or hurt by her switch in attitude but instead he's nodding his head fondly with his hands held high, "I make no promises about that P. But I think it's time to get this date started."

She groans staring at this back, she'd completely forgotten to make him change and now everyone was staring at them in their matching outfits. That stupid flirtatious clerk had derailed her thinking.

"Hey! Seojun, let's go to another store. You need to change!" she yells chasing after him. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He groans as the sensor sounds out, loud noise blaring in his ears signaling that she's hit him again, he only catches a glimpse of her before she's barrel rolling behind a pillar and out of sight.

She'd totally played him, adamant that she'd never done laser tag before. He should have known when she came after changing looking far too comfortable with the gigantic imitation gun in her hand, her hair scooped into a high ponytail. It was admittedly distracting, bringing attention to the long regal line of her neck. He noticed how the instructor paused mid sentence upon seeing her, his eyes lingering a little too long for his liking. Easily he moved between them, dwarfing her with his larger frame staring the guy down until he snapped back looking away while rubbing his neck.

She hadn't noticed the interaction too busy aiming her weapon and asking questions, he had second guessed bringing her here wondering if this was too childish. It was there first date after all and he wanted there to be others, was this thoughtful enough? But watching her roll and dive for cover he knew that he'd made the right choice, even if she was currently destroying his ego.

He had immediately fell for her tricks, running to her aid when she tripped and fell whimpering in pain on the ground. His heart had stopped as he raced over to her, her name on his tongue but before he could utter the word she rolled over, smirk on her face as she aimed perfectly in the middle of his chest, gaining the most point value. She stuck her tongue out before hopping up and disappearing into the darkness. He had stood there shocked clutching at his chest.

"Do you really have time to day dream? I don't know if you've noticed but you're losing. Badly."

She calls from somewhere and he shakes his head at her mocking comment, the trash talking has been steadily increasing with each shot she landed. He should have expected this, for her to be competitive. He's seen it at school sometimes that grimace on her face when she saw that she was second again, glaring at Suho before shoving the ranking away.

He wishes he could say that he's been taking it easy on her but he hasn't, he's been trying his damn hardest to no avail, every time he spots her she dodges him easily, before reappearing behind her and making his sensors go off. He's not the most competitive person but losing this badly is simply embarrassing, a small part of him wants to impress her.

Okay, a large part. Shoot him.

He groans when just that happens, she shoots him and that's it. Game over.

Winner flashes across the front of her camo vest. But when a radiant smile spreads across her flushed face he wonders who is truly the winner.

Cocking an eyebrow he whistles, "You sure you've never done this before?"

She tries to hide a smile but fails epically before admitting the truth. "I might have done this before, once or twice."

"You're a game shark. Taking advantage of poor innocent souls. Is this anyway to treat your date?" He feigns hurt pouting dramatically, bottom lip wobbling. She rolls her eyes at him, ponytail swishing as she skips away before calling over a shoulder, "Even if I told you, you would have still lost. I'm just better than you. Did you even hit me once?" She taunts, looking far too attractive with that snotty look on her face. He must be going crazy.

"You're such a brat. " He concedes enjoying this version of Sujin too much to take any real offense to her insults.

"Rematch?" She purses her lips before aiming right at his head, with one eye closed.

"You're on." She accepts his challenge before running over the counter to purchase more time, he trails after her knowing that he's lost much more than this laser tag game. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

She kicks his ass a second time, he does manage to land one shot on her but it only makes her even more competitive and it's a flurry after that, his censor ringing off every few seconds. It's a short rematch, her notices how other guys seem mesmerized by the beautiful girl with the near precise aim. She starts attracting quite the audience and he decides they've been here long enough. This isn't the end of their date after all, he doesn't want to waste this time.

"Alright, you win ninja remind me never to do this with you ever again."

She stands triumphantly before wondering off to change.

The ponytail is down when she comes back out, thick dark curtain over her shoulder. His fingers itch with desire but he controls the urge, he's seen what she's capable of. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ She shakes her head as he pulls out her chair but he sends her a charming smile, he wasn't joking when he told her this was how he acted on dates. Maybe it's because he only has his mother and sister but he has always respected woman immensely, doing these little acts makes him feel like he's cherishing them. His mother has never opened a door in his presence so this feels natural to him.

They're in a quaint diner with dim lighting and cushy oversized chairs, she looks around curiously taking in the minimalist artwork and splashes of color on the wall.

"Do you bring all your dates here?" She asks all nonchalance as she thumbs through the menu, surprising him when she immediately goes to the dessert section eying the different cakes. He sits in disbelief that she has a sweet tooth, she's just full of surprises today.

"Sujin." He puts iron into his voice grabbing her attention, when their eyes are connected he speaks again, "I think you know me better than that. Don't make this cheap."

It's obvious what she's been trying to do since they left the laser tag center, put as much distance between them as possible. Every once in a while her phone vibrates and he can see her tense up before declining the call. The reality of what she's done has set in and now she's putting back up her fortress. Brushing off his compliments and implying that everything he's been doing is all part of some first date playbook, he's trying not to be offended but it's hard to wrangle in his emotions.

It always is with her.

They stare at each other until a server comes to take their order. She orders a chocolate mousse cake that sounds like something his sister would love- cloyingly sweet and diabetes inducing- and he orders another slice to bring home to her, maybe he can use that to bribe her and hear more about how Sujin saved her. For himself he gets an egg sandwich with avocado and bacon, starving now after his long day. He'd gone to work straight from school and fatigue is catching up with him.

"I'll be right back." He announced abruptly, the chair screeching as he excuses himself from the table.

He splashes cold water on his face, waking himself up and clearing his mind. What will they do after this? It's clear that she's dreading what comes next. Nothing has changed, she still has to go home and he knows they'll be repercussions to today. He can't let her face that alone but getting her to agree to him being there is going to be near impossible. The trust between them is still thin, like the first layer of ice that covers a frozen lake and he's terrified to rupture it.

What is he supposed to do?

Trepidation grips his mind as he makes his way back to their table and as he draws closer, he notices that she's completely distracted, arms balanced on the armrests as she stares out the glass, lost in thought and a million miles away. She looks beautiful, if he was a poet he would write sonnets about it. He has no idea how this day is going to end, feels dread swirling in his stomach as well and he pulls out his phone angling it as he stands in front of her. Wanting to capture this moment, tattoo this image in his mind.

Click!

The loud notification of his camera breaks her reprieve and anxiously he starts to staff the traitorous device in his pocket but not before she spots him.

"Did you just take a picture of me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." He answers innocently, sitting down and taking a huge bite of the sandwich that was delivered while he was away. Her chocolate cake is still perfect, thick and sweet the aroma wafting across the table. She was waiting for him.

Grabbing her fork, he stabs a huge piece of the decadent treat lifting it to her mouth.

"What are you doing?" She retreats attempting to steal her fork back but he weaves out of reach, laughing at her grumpy face.

"Open up princess." He tries to feed her again but she turns her head away, he has to catch himself before he smashes it on her cheek. He gets the feeling that wouldn't have ended well if he didn't have fast reflexes.

"Seojun."

"Princess."

"Don't call me that."

"Open up."

"No!"

She's fully glaring at him now, arms folded across her chest and he stares back impishly before formulating a plan.

"Fine. Suit yourself."

She looks surprised at his quick acceptance of defeat before he starts to bring the cake to his own mouth, exaggeratedly opening his mouth wide to consume the delicacy and instantly she lunges across the table looking ferocious, her mouth open wide in anger and finding an opening he twists the fork and pops the cake into her mouth.

Her face is thunderous, anger filling every line before the flavor explodes on her tongue and she freezes mid lunge looking like a chipmunk with her full cheeks and wide eyes. She slowly chews savoring the bite before finally swallowing. He waits for her reaction with bated breath.

"How was it?" He laughs at her dark stare, passing the fork back over the table. Almost too eagerly she grabs the utensil, shoveling more of the sweet treat into her mouth. Silently answering his inquiry, in minutes her plate is empty only a smear of icing remaining.

He chews his own sandwich deliberately.

When his phone starts to vibrate he doesn't detect it at first, too lost in the puzzle that is Kang Sujin; laser tag extraordinaire with a sweet tooth the size of Seoul. A gentle smile washes over his face when he sees the caller ID and he makes a rash decision that may or may not get him in more trouble. Declining the call, he goes into the contact and chooses FaceTime instead waiting patiently until a face pops up.

"Seojun, where are you? Your sister said she saw you at work earlier and you were on your way home. Did something happen?" His mother’s concerned voice rings out from the speakers.

Glancing subtly over at Sujin he sees her freeze before realization lights up her eyes and he knows she's going to bolt. Not giving her a chance to flee, he reaches around the table grabbing her chair and tugging her over until they're side by side. Both of their faces sit in the small square on his phone and his mother gasps at the sudden addition to your conversation.

"Oh! Who's this? Are you out with friends?"

"Mom, this is Kang Sujin. The girl I like." He states proudly, smiling brightly at the screen.

His mom's eyes become comically wide, glancing back and forth between the two of them before she waves back excitedly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you my dear. I hope my son is treating you well." His mother has that look on her face that she always gets before she scolds him, clearly seeing the other girl’s discomfort. Sujin is unmoving next to him, a pregnant moment passes before she blinks twice and realizes that she's being spoken to.

"He is. It's nice to meet you too." Her voice is tinier than he's ever heard it.

Worlds different from the person who looked ready to stab him over chocolate cake.

His mother's eye immediately soften at her quiet voice.

"Well I won't keep you. Make sure she gets home safely and don't come back too late. It's supposed to rain later." She warns them both waving softly before ending the call and the screen goes dark.

"What are you doing?"

She's furious. He can hear in the cadence of her voice, she's vibrating with it.

"Why would you do that?”

"Why are you so angry?" He rises to her bait, knowing this was the inevitable end to their near perfect date.

"You had no right to do that. I don't need to be anymore involved with your life."

A slap across his face. That stings and he can't control his reaction, recoiling like he's been hit.

"What was supposed to happen after today? Why did you agree to this? Was this supposed to get you out of my system?" He barks at her. He’s so annoyed this is happening in the middle of a diner, like those couples you always see and judge praying that they'll take this somewhere else.

"It was supposed to get you out of my system!" She screams back.

There's the truth, the ugly truth. It's not different from anything she's ever said to him but hearing that now after confessing to her feels like salt being poured into his wounds. Or acid behind injected into his veins.

"What about my feelings? I like you."

Harshly she stands snatching her purse and throwing down a few bills on the table, with a tone filled with venom she looks him dead in the eyes, unwavering. "Don't." ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ It wasn't supposed to end like this, his heartbroken face is frozen in her mind.

Don't.

She was selfish, a horrible selfish bitch and she used his feelings for her. That's what he would think and that was best, he needed to face the reality that one stolen moment didn't make her life brand new, she was still the broken mess he'd stumbled upon in the rain. No matter how vehemently he tried there was no mending her she was beyond repair.

But it had felt nice. Being with him, feeling like a normal teenager on a date. For a minute she'd forgotten her reality, when he called his mother it was the wake up call she needed. She wasn't the girl you brought home to your mother, at least not for him. The woman looked so much like him and she could feel their affection for each other through the phones, her own mother has never looked at her with such devotion. Jealousy crawls at her insides, she'd forgotten she was a monster until she saw them. She couldn't drag another person into her storm.

He doesn't call. She thought he would, expected him to chase after her and demand more. She stares through the window of the bus watching the raindrops slide down the glass, his mother had been right. Taking out her phone she types a message.

I'm sorry.

Staring at it, there's so much she's sorry for but mostly crashing into his life. If only he'd ignored her like everyone else this could have all been avoided, he would have been spared. She leans back in her seat with a deep sigh, message unsent.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

She's drenched standing outside her house, pacing back and forth pulling at the skin between her fingers. Her father has to know by now, but he hasn't contacted her once. It feels like the calm before the storm despite the torrential pour of rain around her.

The click of the front door opening makes a shiver race down her spine. Her father stands ominously in the doorway, face set in stone.

"Where have you been!" He screams, booming voice cutting through the fall of rain.

She instinctively takes a step back but he grabs her by her soaking shirt collar and slams her into the brick wall, she cries out as pain surges through her body. "You little bitch, I told you not to embarrass me." He hisses into her face, spit landing on her chin.

"Honey, stop! You're outside somebody will see!" She hears her mother crying from the doorway and she almost laughs at the reasoning, it's okay to beat her to pulp as long as it's inside where no one will see. It was all about upholding appearances.

"You shut your mouth! This wouldn't have happened if you raised her better!" He turns to sneer at her mother and she capitalizes on his momentary distraction, twisting out of his hold and running down the sidewalk. For a moment she thinks she's free but then a sharp pain shoots through her head and she's painfully yanked backwards by her hair. She shouts at the burst of intense pain, hot tears streaming down her face.

He drags her by her hair before shoving her into the wall, her skull bounces off the hard surface and white starburst explode behind her eyelids.

Squinting through her tears and the water soaking her face she sees her father with his fist drawn back. She waits for the blow, clenching her eyes shut. If she's lucky this will be it, it'll all be over.

But the moment drags on and the punch never lands and then she suddenly hears a voice she never expected.

"Get your fucking hands off her!"

She's barely able to lift her hand and watch as her father is shoved powerfully, falling to his knees from the impact. Rubbing at her tender scalp she peers up at her savior only to see the furious face of Seojun, his hair is matted to his scalp and he looks murderous.

"You came." That's all she can get out before her world goes pitch dark, he was here. He was truly here even after everything she said. Why? Why was he always there?

Her last cognitive image is him running frantically towards her with his arms outreached, his lips are moving and she wishes she knew what he was saying but there's no sound and then there's nothing.

Darkness.

#true beauty #true beauty kdrama #junjin #han seojun #kang sujin #the couple that should have been #early posting #I come bearing gifts

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thewayshedreamed · 4 years

Text

This Time— Part 6

A Nessian Fan Fic

Fic Masterlist

This chapter offers some additional insight into Nesta’s thought process and sheds a little light on the ongoing process her emotional development has become. I hope it comes through!

This is somewhat of a “building” chapter so that we can get Nessian to the crest, so to speak. Part 7 is already written and only needs some editing, so it’s possible that I’ll be doing a double update today ☺️ They certainly have a lot to discuss, and once I started writing, I couldn’t stop. 😂 Anyway, enough of me. Enjoy!

Links to the previous parts:

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 ||

Warnings for grief related to the loss of a parent and some strong language.

——————————————————————————

Around 11:00 PM, Nesta decided she couldn’t be alone with her thoughts anymore. She was ruminating on similar memories and effectively raking herself over the coals. Although she knew any one of her friends would be there for her no matter the time of day, she picked up her phone to call the one she knew would most likely be awake at this hour.

“Hello?” Azriel’s raspy voice came through the phone.

“Were you asleep?! Since when do you go to bed early?” Her surprise was obvious by her tone. What the hell? He’s never in bed before midnight.

“Nes. Always a pleasure.” Azriel breathed a chuckle into the phone. “I usually wouldn’t be. I’m.. umm.. at a friend’s house tonight.”

Nesta gasped and dropped her voice. “Oh my gods. Az, were you on a date?! Am I interrupting?” She clapped her free hand over her forehead. “I’m the worst. I’m sorry.”

Another chuckle from Azriel. “You don’t have to whisper, you know. She can’t hear you. You’re not interrupting anything. I was asleep when you called, but I’m out on the couch now. What’s up?”

”If you were asleep, then that counts as interrupting! Are you sure?”

”Yes. Just, maybe the short version?” His tone was tentative, almost as if he felt guilty asking her to keep it concise at 11 PM. No one truly deserved Azriel as their friend.

“I can do that. So, here it is. I’ll save you the long, tedious trip through my brain.” She paused for half a second to take a breath. “I’m in love with Cassian.” She let out a quiet groan for effect.

”Mhmm...” The lilting of his voice implied that he was waiting for something like the punchline of a joke; the unknown part of her statement.

Her breath caught. “I kind of expected more of a reaction.”

”Did you? I thought there was more to it.” He seemed entirely neutral in that grating way of his.

”How did you know?!” She asked, incredulously.

”You told me.”

“Mm.. I don’t think so. When?” Now she was actually confused. Did she make some kind of drunken confession at Rita’s? She would remember having this revelation before now.

“At brunch. When we were driving home.”

”What are you talking about?!” Her voice was definitely higher pitched than it had been previously. She was anxious to hear his response, thinking he had surely dreamed this.

”Nesta. We were in my car, backing out of the parking lot. You asked me, ‘Why couldn’t we be the ones to fall in love?’ Or something along those lines. I thought that you were using some cryptic way of telling me because it implied two parties. Why do you think I hit the brakes so hard?” He seemed impatient, as if he was telling her the most obvious thing in the world.

“I thought maybe the question weirded you out! I didn’t even realize what I said, to be honest. How the actual fuck do you notice tiny things like that?” She didn’t wait on his response. He would know it was rhetorical. “Now my problem is this: I think he’s dating someone, so I’ve lost my chance.” She briefly told him what she had overheard the night of Elain’s birthday, her voice starting to crack toward the end.

”Hm. He hasn’t said anything to me about that, but I could see why he would wait being that you and I are close. But honestly, I don’t know that you could ever lose your chance with Cassian, Nes.”

She didn’t have anything to say to that. She simply sat there, playing with the corner of her throw blanket and hoping he would continue. He seemed to sense her discomfort and started talking again.

“I think you’ll regret it if you don’t talk to him. But, if I can offer my opinion, maybe wait a little while so that you know you’re absolutely sure this is what you want. I don’t know how he would handle it if you decided it’s not what you want.”

She felt herself prickle with defensiveness. “I wouldn’t do that to him, Az. Of course I’m sure. It only took me an eternity to figure this shit out.”

Azriel responded in a soothing tone he so often used with her. “I know. But remember, you’re not the one he talks to about you. I’m just looking out for my brother. Maybe let it marinate, yeah?”

She knew his intentions were pure, and she couldn’t really blame him for being protective. Before she could respond, she heard a feminine voice in the background ask: “Az, everything okay?”

She heard him pull the phone away from his face to answer. “Oh, yeah. All good. It’s Nesta.”

Delayed by her scattered brain and the copious amount of wine, the identity of the voice finally hit her full force.

”IS THAT ELAIN?!” She sat up straighter as if it would allow her to hear them more readily.

She heard Azriel laugh, followed by a shuffling on the other end.

“Hello? Nesta? Everything okay?” Nesta could hear the genuine concern in her voice.

“Hey, El. Everything’s fine! Sorry to crash your date. It seems we have quite a bit to talk about. Very soon.”

It took Elain a couple of seconds to respond, and Nesta could hear the smile in her voice. “Yeah. I think we do. Someone told me I should just talk to him. Turns out that they were right.” She paused, waiting for an “I told you so” from Nesta. She didn’t have the energy. “You know you can talk to me about Cassian, too, right?”

Nesta shut her eyes tightly and shook her head. “Of course. I’m sorry. I’ve been leaning on Az since our fight, and I honestly haven’t had the energy to bring it up beyond that. But I do want to talk to you. And Feyre. It’s just been...hard.”

“I can imagine. It’s hard to remember a time before you and Cass. It’s like the end of an era or something. Just know that we’re here.” Her voice was soft, laced with worry and a desire to help her older sister.

”Maybe for now,” Nesta teased, “but you may not have much time to chat these days.”

She knew she was blatantly deflecting, but El’s words had caused tears to prick her eyes yet again. It’s hard to remember a time before you and Cass. She realized how true it was, and what upset her the most was that she knew she didn’t want to know a time without Cassian.

The call wrapped up with more gentle teasing between the sisters, and eventually, embarrassing Azriel a bit over speakerphone. She told them she loved them and promised to keep them updated on how she was feeling. Her heart felt lighter once she finally ended the call, thanks to the laughter they managed to pull from her.

——————————————————————————

Christine Archeron’s death anniversary fell on a Tuesday that year, and Nesta awoke with a similar irritation as last year— death anniversaries should never fall on weekdays. She went through the familiar motions as any other morning, headed to work, and concentrated on her various tasks she was expected to juggle at any given time. As appearances went, it looked like any other ordinary day to those around her, so the extra heaviness remained hers alone to carry.

On her lunch break, she got a chance to pull her phone to check her messages and mindlessly scroll through social media. She had been focused on scrolling for so long that her phone took her by surprise when it vibrated in her hand. She tapped the notification by reflex and found herself studying the sender’s name as if it was some sort of mistake.

Cassian: Thinking about you today. I know it’s a rough one. Keep your head up. Christine would have it no other way ❤️

Nesta read the text several times in a row; just to make sure it was real. It had been so long since he’d contacted her intentionally, and it made her happy that he still thought to reach out today. It simultaneously made her a little sad; however, because it was yet another reminder of what she’d lost in him. That was an issue to deal with later.

Nesta: Of course you are, because you’re the perfect human, and I don’t deserve you. Thanks, Cass 💕 Means the world to me to hear from you. Mom really loved you, and I know she would appreciate you looking out for us.

She hesitated over the send button for several seconds before deciding to go through with it. It felt so weird to intentionally script any type of message to him being that they had spent most of their relationship entirely uncensored. Everything about it felt wrong— she couldn’t act natural with him because it wasn’t appropriate anymore, yet she didn’t feel right having to draft and redraft their communication. It was all so fucked, and she was tired of this odd limbo they stayed in.

She reflected on her conversation with Azriel and Elain on the night she had unintentionally crashed their date. She knew that they both held strong points about her situation and wouldn’t advise her to try to repair things if they knew it was a lost cause. She acknowledged that Azriel, specifically, knew more than he was at liberty to tell her. That being the case, she decided that was evidence in favor of hashing things out with Cassian. It wasn’t long before she was lost in her own thoughts, her food entirely forgotten.

I’ve spent my entire life trying to ensure I didn’t need anyone. I never wanted to depend heavily on another person in a way that I couldn’t manage on my own. But that’s not really the case anyway, right? I’ve managed fine these few weeks, but that’s the thing. I’ve managed. Why do I try to insist that’s enough for me?

But what if the door is closed? What if this was Cassian’s final push, and he’s gone? I don’t know Alis, and she could be wonderful. She probably appreciates the shit out of him and saw immediately that he’s not the average person. She probably knows how special he is. She probably beams anytime he enters a room and tries to take care of his heart in any way she can. She’s probably fucking delightful.

But does that really compete with history? I guess if that history is filled with turmoil, it could. She’ll never know the Cassian that was a freshman in high school— braces and curly hair, still a head taller than most of the other boys in class. She won’t remember how he hit his second growth spurt the summer after sophomore year, where he started to fill out and caught the attention of any girl with a pulse. She doesn’t know what it’s like when he’s truly angry with his dad and the world. She doesn’t know the full range of his eclectic music tastes or the guilty pleasures he sings depending on his mood. She didn’t do the leg work to reconcile the tough, intimidating exterior when he gets upset with the gentle soul beneath. There’s no way she knows when his humor and his laughter are distractions from his pain rather than when they’re genuine. She can’t love him like I do. Im-fucking-possible.

She was pulled abruptly out of her head, and incredible jealousy, by her alarm. It was time to go back to work and finish out the day, and she hoped it passed as quickly as possible. She silently chastised herself for piling this emotional time bomb on today of all days as she threw away her lunch and walked out of the break room.

So much for leaving this issue for later.

She resolved to put all of these thoughts back into their little box until she had the emotional energy to open the lid once again. Whenever the hell that would be.

——————————————————————————

The rest of the day zoomed by at a blissful pace, thank the gods. In fact, when Nesta glanced at the clock, she realized it was several minutes after 5:00 PM. She clocked out, grabbed her things, and climbed into her car. She took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself to make the drive out to the cemetery. She wasn’t sure what time Elain had been able to go by, but Nesta had agreed to meet Feyre at 5:30 to pay their respects. It was becoming a standing tradition, where they would make their short visit whenever they could during the day and follow with dinner together as a family.

She made it with a few minutes to spare, so she took that time to sit with her mom one-on-one. She gave her a brief update on her life, told her how much she loved and missed her, and gently brushed any leaves or grass clippings off of her headstone. There were fresh flowers in her vase, something she noted each year on her death anniversary. Any other time of year, they kept seasonally appropriate faux flowers to make sure her site was properly decorated. She made a mental note to offer to contribute to the fresh arrangement in the years following when she saw her family at dinner. They were always taken care of before she made it out to the cemetery, and she didn’t want to risk forgetting for the next year. She leaned into the arrangement, taking in the various floral scents emanating from the blooms in the bouquet. There was a myriad of vivid colors, wildflowers throughout, and Nesta loved how true to her mother’s spirit they were.

She turned when she heard car doors and saw Feyre approaching with Rhysand. She stood, extending an arm out to her baby sister, who accepted it readily and rested her head on her shoulder. They wrapped their arms around each other, and Rhysand stood nearby, resting his hand on Feyre’s opposite shoulder. They stood together for several minutes until Nesta excused herself to allow Feyre some time alone with their mom as well.

She drove to her father’s house where she found Elain already setting the table for dinner. They worked together quietly, making sure they had plenty of place settings for everyone. Azriel offered his help to carry various dishes of food to the dining table and took his seat next to Elain once it was all settled. Almost as if on cue, Feyre and Rhysand walked into the house and took their seats as well. The dinner started off quiet considering the somber mood, but Feyre was the first to break the tension when she started to tell stories from their childhood. In a matter of moments, their home was filled with animated story telling and loud bouts of laughter, and Nesta couldn’t think of a better way to honor her mom’s love of life.

As everyone finished up, she suddenly remembered her mental note from earlier. She waited for a natural lull in conversation, then commented softly, “Mom’s flowers were beautiful, you guys. You did an amazing job.”

”They were really perfect. They couldn’t have been more ‘Christine’ if you tried,” Feyre remarked.

“Elain, Dad. I’m not sure which of you took care of them this year, but would you let me take care of next time? I haven’t contributed since she passed, and I’d really like to.”

Mr. Archeron softly shook his head back and forth, communicating to Nesta that it hadn’t been him. Nesta adjusted her gaze to Elain who looked just as confused.

“Oh. Nes, I assumed it was one of you. I didn’t... I didn’t order them. I wished I had.” She looked down at her hands, and Azriel placed a supportive arm across the back of her chair.

“Okay... so who did?” She glanced around the table from person to person, but no one took any credit. It was Rhys who spoke up first, clearing his throat to master his voice.

“You don’t know?”

”Obviously.” She looked to Feyre for support. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Feyre said nothing, watching Rhysand talk with rapt attention.

When he spoke again, it was cautious, as if his words may startle her. “Nesta. The flowers are from Cassian. He’s done them every year since Mrs. Christine died.”

She was suddenly short of breath. Everyone’s attention snapped to Rhys, including her father’s. Her sisters and Azriel were looking at Rhysand with stunned expressions, their eyes flicking to her face occasionally.

“What? How could you know— why would you know, when we don’t? What the fuck is going on?” She was falling over her own words, struggling to form any cohesive thought.

”I’m so sorry,” Rhysand glanced around the room for the first time, realizing he had everyone’s attention. “The only reason I knew was because he asked me to make sure they made it from the flower shop to her gravesite the year he had knee surgery. He asked me to keep it to myself then, but I figured by now he would have said something to at least one other person.” He looked down into his plate, various emotions playing over his handsome face. Feyre leaned over to comfort him, knowing he was likely embarrassed to be the reason the air had changed so dramatically.

Nesta’s head was swimming, emotions roiling from a million different directions. She knew anger was cheap and unfair, but she pulled on that tether as hard as she could to make sure she could navigate everything she was processing. She was on her feet suddenly, pushing her chair away from the table and walking toward her keys.

“I have to go.” She couldn’t be in here anymore. The room was too small, the walls were too close. Too many people. She picked up the pace, flinging the door open and shutting it hard behind her. She was down the porch steps when she heard the door open again. Azriel’s voice followed her.

”Nesta. Where are you going? Nesta, stop!” He had jogged lightly to catch up with her, and he tugged her gently by the wrist to stop her. She spun on him quickly, eyes flaring and brimming with tears.

“Anywhere but here! What the fuck was that, Az?”

He said nothing; looked down at his own feet as he shook his head.

“Cassian has some fucking nerve, you know that? Why is he insisting upon himself?” Her voice was lowered and had taken on an almost eerie quality; the calm before the proverbial storm.

“Nes, I don’t think he meant to upset you. It sounds like it’s something he’s made somewhat of a tradition. Maybe he just wanted to be sure and see it through.”

”He doesn’t get to do that anymore, Azriel. He doesn’t get to butt-dial me while he makes date plans with some girl, then turn around and send flowers to my dead mother. What am I supposed to think about that? And how would that make his girlfriend feel?” Azriel pulled her into a hug at that, resting his chin on top of her head. He didn’t answer her. There was nothing to say.

She pulled away from him, gripping her keys, and walked toward her car. “I’m out. Tell them I love them, and I’ll call tomorrow.” She nodded her chin toward the house, climbed into her car, and backed out of the driveway.

——————————————————————————

She wasn’t sure how long she’d driven before she found herself in his driveway. She knew it hadn’t been very long considering the sun was still clinging to the end of the day. She honestly didn’t remember making the conscious decision to come here, likely fueled by anger and muscle memory more than anything else. She was still so frustrated at her situation, her emotions spilling over and refusing to be put into that stupid fucking box anymore. The worst part was that, as mad as she was with him, she so badly wanted to see him. She wished the circumstances were less complicated so that she could knock, ask for a hug and some tea, and lay on his couch. They were a hell of a long way from those people now.

She loosed a breath, puffing her cheeks with air and exhaling slowly. Just before she peeled her head from the headrest to get out, his front door opened. He opened it most of the way, then leaned against the door jamb on his shoulder. He had his hands in the pockets of his sweats and one of his ankles crossed casually over the other. For a moment, she only looked at him, unable to move or offer any type of acknowledgement. She took in the charcoal henley he was wearing, unbuttoned save for the very last one. The small flap of the opening leaned to the side, revealing the base of his neck and the beginning of his tattoos. He looked so very Cassian, casual and laid-back, that she struggled to keep her emotions level at the mere sight of him. His hair was down, looking like he had just run his fingers through it with its deep part and how it fell haphazardly around his face. He was wearing his reading glasses, she noticed, the thick frames highlighting the sharp angle of his cheekbones and the wide set of his jaw. He gave her a soft smile, and cocked his head to the side and back in invitation. She could almost hear him gently telling her to “get in here”.

Too late to turn back now.

——————————————————————————

A/N: Alrighty, hope y’all enjoyed this chapter, even with minimal Nessian. The next chapter(s) will more than make up for it, though! I’m hoping to have max Nessian to y’all ASAP. A million thanks to all of you who continue to follow this au. Your comments/ feedback have meant the world to me!

If you’d like to be tagged, feel free to comment, reblog, or send a message! I’d be happy to add you to the list. If I’ve accidentally left you off or there are issues with your tag, let me know, and I’ll look into it! Comments and constructive criticism are welcome (even encouraged)!

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@polireader // @lord-douglas-the-third // @justgiu12 // @notyournymphetish // @sjm-things // @strangeenemy // @iammissstark // @keshavomit // @sjmships // @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks // @dusty-lightbulb // @texas-shaped-waffle-maker // @julemmaes // @charincharge // @superspiritfestival // @awesomelena555 // @sleeping-and-books // @hizqueen4life // @maastrash // @bookstantrash // @rhyswhitethorn // @grace-k-sterling // @sayosdreams // @sis-it-dont-add-up // @ladywitchling // @b00kworm // @courtofjurdan

#nessian #nesta archeron #nesta x cassian #nesta #cassian #acotar #nessian au #nessian fwb #nessian angst #nessian fanfic #acowar #acomaf #archeron sisters #acotar fanfic #sjm #sarah j maas

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sunidhisharma10 · 3 years

Text

Reality of Emotional Abuse and its trauma

TW -- Mentions of Emotional/Psychological abuse, Panic and Anxiety attacks, Depressive Episode, Intrusive and Suicidal thoughts.

I believe that when we talk about things that burdened us we actually liberate ourselves from its pain whilst beginning our healing from it. So here I’m talking about my experience with emotional abuse and how it is as heinous as any form of abuse.

This is going to be a long read as I’m treating this post as an entry of my journal.

It started right before the COVID lockdown in my country. I met him through a mutual friend. In my case we used to talk before but due to some circumstances we lost touch and later got reintroduced (unfortunately) and we began talking again. He was extremely charming and alarmingly flattering, in the beginning he appeared to me as a kind, gentle soul that has been hurt by the world but god was I wrong ( I’m an empath and during that time I was struggling with major codependency issues).

First red flag that I totally looked past was when I had period cramps and was writhing in my room; so this guy decided to send me a cake as a “goodwill” to help me with my cramps. What I easily looked past was I never mentioned where I lived to him and yet the cake was waiting at my doorstep. A that time I looked past it because someone has done something really special for me and I was flattered and felt special.So I brushed past it and thanked him enormously.

From their it began, long hours of texting and phone calls, he gave me his undivided attention while flattering me with over the top compliments and basically everything that I craved for; and so my naive self thought that this guy was everything that I needed. So to give him back for his so called kindness I become his confidant, and a person he can rely on. From their it started to change, he was extremely cunning with his ploys of getting me hooked into this relationship. Once I was hooked, he started emotionally dumping on me, basically using me as an emotional punching bag. I ignored all this because in my eyes he was a wounded soul who can be helped with love and acceptance. So I went ahead and ignored all the red flags that came my way. He was slowly gaslighting me and conditioning me into a submissive person. He controlled my every move, asked me where I was, while deliberately isolating me from my family and friends, he had gaslighted me enough that I actually internalized everything he said about me, good and the bad. I made excuses for him when my family and friends warned me against him. He stonewalled me whenever I dared (according to him) showed him some of my original personality. Little by little he conditioned me into this submissive person that took his dumping as his way of showing his love because I thought that he trusted me enough to tell me all this so I felt flattered and deserving of his love. His best way to manipulate me was guilt-tripping me and playing the victim card. He used to aggressively sabotage himself whilst playing the victim card that I had to stop saying anything that might offend him. I was basically walking on eggshells at this point. His way of draining me was something so subtle yet so alarmingly deteriorating that I faced months of physical and mental health issues.

One day he was doing his usual banter of draining my energy; when instead of just listening I advised him to go see a therapist whilst saying that even though I’ll support him endlessly, he has to take action for his own life ( the guy played the victim card on every possible thing!) and these words of mine raged him and he blocked me and gave me the silent treatment.

I was utterly confused, angry,hurt and what not, my cognitive dissonance was over the roof, I had lost myself, became extremely numb and started using self harm to make it make sense. And to find out that where did I went wrong. I apologized to him even when I wasn't at fault, to which he ‘‘accepted’‘ me back.

But by then I knew it in my heart that something was wrong and it isn’t supposed to feel this way and shouldn’t be so painful. So I started googling all this and came across an article which highlighted covert narcissistic/emotional abuse. Everything made sense after that. I was still surviving and was still in contact with him but something has snapped inside of me. A part of me wanted to confront him about everything he did to me but I listened to my intuition and decided against it. That became my breakthrough to leave the relationship. I started distancing myself from him, grey rocking him, basically not engaging with him at all. He still hoovered me for months but I continued with my detachment.

The months after I exited this relationship, I suffered from complex post traumatic stress; I was gaslighted to the point that I started self- gaslighting (yes it’s a thing). I had nightmares, I kept ruminating the past relationship whilst blaming myself and hurting myself in the process, My intrusive thoughts made me blame myself for hurting the person who destroyed me. I blamed myself for distancing from him. Because of this trauma I plunged into a debilitating depressive episode along with panic and anxiety attacks. It got so horrible that I decided to end my life and even wrote a suicide letter but somehow I survived it all. I took help of various life coaches and therapists who helped me out of this impending doom. I started learning my own patterns and become more self aware while validating my pain through it all. I started meditation and mindfulness and gradually with patience, efforts and help I got out of it gratefully; but some things still remain. I’m now very cautious and i do not trust anyone easily. My nervous system still reacts to the trauma I faced but I’ve learned how to soothe it. It has been difficult but I’m constantly healing and going forward. What really helped me was self validation. I validated every agony I faced and refused to fall back in my self gaslighting patterns. It gets exhausting, extremely exhausting, but it is so much better than staying with a person who inflicted this pain on you with no remorse, and whose only goal is to exploit you for their own gain.

To whoever who relates to this, you have my heart and unending support, know that you’re the strongest and I’m extremely proud of you. You can get through this, we’re in this together.

Emotional abuse is real and can happen to literally anyone. And it is so subtle and sneaky that the victim doesn’t even know that they’re being abused. It has same adverse effect like any other form of abuse and blaming the victim without proper education about the topic will only harm and hurt them more along with their already traumatizing experience. Please understand this and let’s be kinder to each other moving forward.

Thank you to anyone who read this, I used this platform to share my story and it has been really liberating for me and I trust that this platform will treat us with kindness and compassion. Let’s heal together. Thank you once again ♡

Love

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wkemeup · 5 years

Text

I’m With You (2/3)

series summary: When two strangers meet on a layover in the Charlotte Airport, they find that a lifetime can sit in the span of three days and it doesn’t take very long at all to fall in love. pairing: bucky x reader warnings: super soft!bucky, shenanigans, an asshole of an ex-boyfriend 🌸series masterlist // series playlist 🌸

T H E W E D D I N G

You sat at the far corner of the bar, tucked behind a post and a sudden influx of men you recognized from your college years enough to turn your back and hide your face into your second glass of bourbon.

The bartender eyed you carefully, raising an eyebrow as you neared the end of your drink but you shook your head. You were drinking too much too fast for a woman alone at a wedding and you figured you should have enough wits about you to look after yourself, at least.

Knee bouncing in a nervous twitch with your heel wrapped around the footrest of the barstool, you let out a tired huff. The ceremony hadn’t even started yet and you were already losing it. Without a single other person around you could cling onto for sanity, you were left alone to face the wedding of your ex-boyfriend, Jack; your longest, most serious relationship. Actually, your only relationship.

Shit.

You took another sip.

The rowdy group of guys beside you were hollering amongst one another and you could spot one staring at you with a hungry kind of look that made your stomach turn. You reached into your bag, hoping to distract yourself with your phone when your fingers touched crumpled paper.

You pulled it out slowly, examining the series of numbers scribbled in black ink you’d been handed at three in the morning by the handsome stranger who’d turned a near overnight in the Charlotte airport into an adventure filled with coffee, cartwheels, snacks, checkers, and intimate questions you never would have answered if it wasn’t for the genuine curve of his smile and the kindness in the blue of his eyes.

Bucky.

You swallowed nervously, running a thumb over the letters. It hadn’t even been a full twenty-four hours since you’d seen him and you were already thinking of calling. You sighed, groaning, never having felt more pathetic in your life. Until, Marci Jacobs walked into the room and somehow, you felt even worse.

Marci was a friend of Jack’s from school. She never liked you in all the three years you’d been with Jack and she made no effort to hide her dislike of you. She spotted you from across the room and with a smirk upon her face, she made her way towards you, despite your best efforts to sink into yourself and disappear completely.

“Y/n!” she cheered, voice shrill and fake as she attempted to hug you. You let her, awkwardly, though you remained incredibly stiff. She didn’t seem to notice or care. “We didn’t think you’d make it with the storm!”

“Yep,” you nodded, eyes darting to the floor. “Got a last-minute flight this morning around three.”

“Good, good,” she replied, though she was looking over your shoulder, like she was waiting for someone. “So… are you here alone?”

There it was. The reason she came over to you. There always had to be something with Marci, a reason for her to berate you.

You sighed, nodding and gesturing to the clearly empty seats around you. She smiled.

“Shame,” she shrugged, though she didn’t look the least upset about it. “Anyway, I’ll see you at the ceremony. I’m sure you’re looking forward to seeing Jack again. Oh! And the bouquet toss, since you’re clearly available.”

You clenched your jaw, forcing out a nod and a tight smile though it took all of your effort. The moment she turned her back to you and made her way out of the bar, you exhaled a massive breath of relief. Clinging to the crumpled paper in your hand you had hidden in the palm of your grip, you pull out your phone.

You didn’t know what the hell you were thinking attending this wedding; surrounding by Jack and his friends, alone, and the prime target for every joke. But you couldn’t leave now, not now that Marci had seen you and was likely on her way to inform Jack that you’d arrived so they could have a good laugh about it together. A lump burned in your throat just thinking of it.

Before your nerve could get the better of you, you typed the numbers into your phone and brought it to your ear. Each ring echoed in your chest and your heart thumped a decibel louder. Your hand was practically shaking, waiting.

Did you want him to answer? Was it worse if he didn’t?

You nearly hung up the phone before you could find out when a scruffy voice came through the speaker, tired, confused, and your heart froze.

“Hello?” he called, like he’d just woken up.

You parted your lips to respond, but nothing came out.

“Anyone there?” he asked slowly and you were sure he could hear the patrons in the bar, the music playing low over the speakers, and the clinking of glasses as the bartender stacked them on the shelf beside you.

“Hey Bucky,” you finally choked out, cursing yourself at how pathetic you already felt. There went the whole three-day-rule you had always told yourself you didn’t believe in anyway, but now that you were the one calling less than twenty-four hours later, you felt like an idiot.

An exhale that hinted at relief came through his end of the phone and you could hear him shuffling around, like he was tossing blankets off of him and sitting up on a squeaking bed.

“Hey Y/n, I didn’t—” he chuckled and you could practically picture him running his fingers through his hair, “I didn’t think you’d call so soon,” you winced at that, “but I’m glad you did.”

Okay. That’s interesting.

“You are?” you asked nervously, playing with the edge of your glass, swirling the leftover amber liquid on the bottom.

“I was actually kicking myself over not getting your number,” he said, smile in his voice. “I kept thinking when I boarded my plane that I wanted to text you and tell you to have a safe flight and to text me when you land because – I don’t know – that’s something people do for one another these days and I thought you might think it was kind of sweet or something but I never got your number and I realized I’d have to wait for you to reach out and... I’ll tell ya, Y/n, I was nervous you might not ever call and—” he paused suddenly and a tight breath brushed over the speakers, “I’m rambling like a complete idiot. You must think I’m insane.”

“I already kind of thought you were insane, Bucky,” you laughed, cheeks aching from how wide you were smiling and as his nervous chuckle came through the speakers, you relaxed instantly. “But you’re right, I would have thought it was sweet. Maybe you can do that when I fly home?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “yeah, doll, I absolutely will.”

You bit on your lip, trying to hold back the smile to keep it sacred from the guy who had been eyeing you across the bar earlier. He narrowed his gaze on you and you remembered why you’d called Bucky in the first place.

“Hey, so, um,” you started awkwardly, “are you doing anything today?”

“If wasting away in a hotel room counts as doing something, then sorry, doll, I’m all booked,” he teased, already drawing another smile out of you. “Bec’s graduation is tomorrow. Got today to psych myself up.”

Your heart sank.

“Oh! Oh, okay, yeah that makes sense,” you mumbled, clenching your hand around the glass so tight you thought you might break it.

“Why? What’s going on?” Bucky asked sweetly and you couldn’t help the twist in your stomach. He was too kind, too perfect. You’d never stand a chance with him in real life. Whatever you thought you had with him should have just stayed in the airport at midnight where it belonged.

“It’s—It’s nothing. I don’t want to interrupt your plans.”

“Trust me, doll, I’d rather do just about anything else than spend the whole day ruminating over how freaked out I am about tomorrow.”

You shook your head, suddenly feeling so incredibly stupid for reaching out to him now that it was real. It would be worse than showing up alone. Being with a guy you barely met a day ago who was so clearly out of your league… it would be a field day for Marci and you didn’t even want to think of how Jack would react.

“You’re at that wedding, aren’t you?” Bucky asked gently, carefully, like he knew your heart was breaking on the other end of the phone, even when you didn’t respond. “Where's it at? I’ll come to you.”

“Don’t—Don’t worry about it, Buck. I’m—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you with this,” you said quickly, choking on the lump in your throat and trying to avoid the stares of the guy across the bar.

A woman rushed into the room and circled her hand above her head, signaling it was time to gather for the ceremony.

“Y/n, you’re not bothering me, doll,” Bucky insisted, rushed tone because he could hear you shuffling your things together. “Please, just tell me where you are and I’ll be there.”

“I have to go,” you stammered out and even as Bucky tried to object, calling your name as you pulled the phone away from your ear, you hung up.

It was for the best, you told yourself. Bucky couldn’t possibly want you amongst a sea of beautiful women in cocktail dresses and you didn’t think you could handle the look on Jack’s face when he sees just how out of your depth you are. He’d never come out and say it but he’d find ways to chip at your heart, something subtle enough to say in front of a crowd that could still manage to break away your self-esteem. It was a special talent of his.

So, you followed the crowd into the cathedral with bourbon on your breath and wondering how a bar managed to operate next door to a church. Though, you realized, both were places of refuge, weren’t they?

***

The ceremony didn’t start for nearly thirty minutes after the entire guest list had been seated. You sat in the last pew on the right side, tucked away so far back you hoped Jack wouldn’t be able to see you. He stood at the altar, dressed in a black suit with light pink flowers pinned to his lapel as he chatted with his friends standing to his left. He didn’t seem bothered in the slightest by the late arrival of his bride.

When the music finally did start, Marci was the first one down the aisle, followed by four more of the bride’s friends. The dresses were stunning, with a blush sheen and a silk texture, they all looked like models off of a runway. You glanced down at your burgundy dress. It cinched at the waist and flowed gently down to the mid of your thighs and you had thought it was decent enough until you saw these women walk by.

Then, came the bride, Lena, with long blonde waves flowing down her back and braids circling her head in a crown, adorned with flowers and a vail that swept over her exposed back and carried for yards behind her in the aisle. Her dress was unlike anything you’d seen and looked like it was hand made for her. She was perfect. She was exceptional. You understood what Jack meant by ‘better options.’

Some shuffling on your left suddenly grabbed your attention as the minister greeted the guests, and you turned to find the other members of your pew grumbling. You narrowed your eyes, trying to find the source of their irritation when a familiar voice whispered beside you, “so, what I miss?”

You turned sharply to your right to where the voice had spoken in your ear to find Bucky grinning wildly at you, albeit a little out of breath as he rested against the pew ahead of him for support. Your jaw dropped, looking him over to find him in a light blue suit that somehow managed to make his eyes stand out more than they already did. A bead of sweat dripped from his brow and his quickly wiped it away.

“W-What are you doing here?”

“Attending a wedding. What are you doing here?” he replied cheekily, taking a seat as the minister instructed. He tugged on your hand to sit down next to him when you didn’t budge, still in shock, not noticing you were the only one still standing. Your face flushed a red as your dress.

“How did you— How did you even find it?” you whispered, grimacing as an older gentleman in the pew ahead of you turned around to glare in your direction.

“It’s the third one I’ve been to today,” Bucky said into your ear, so impossibly close you could feel the warm of his breath against your skin. You shivered as he continued. “Once I picked up a suit from my buddy Steve, I just had to check the papers. Turns out, there’s seven couples getting married in Atlanta today. Got lucky on number three.”

You nodded, understanding the logic of it but at a loss as to why he was sitting next to you. He must have picked up on your confusion and he smiled sweetly at you.

“You sounded upset on the phone,” he said softly as the guests recited a psalm together in unison. He leaned closer so you could hear him. “I didn’t want you to be alone through this. I know it might not feel like it, but you made a world of difference for me last night. I wanted to return the favor. Make something painful a little easier.”

Bucky sighed, standing up with the crowd, and pulling you up by your hand again because you were simply too lost in anything else but him to notice. He smiled at that, nudging your shoulder and leaning in again.

“Plus, I like you,” he said causally and your heart nearly stopped completely, “I wanted to see you again and if I could make a good second impression and be in a suit, I wasn’t going to let that opportunity pass me by. Besides,” he eyed you carefully, smile tugging at his cheeks, “you look beautiful.”

You blushed and Bucky’s smile only widened. You weren’t even sure how that was possible.

“That dress is a good color on you, doll. It matches your cheeks now,” he teased and you swatted at his arm, mumbling at him to ‘shut up’ and he chuckled, biting down on his lip when the man in front of you turned to scold you again. Bucky muttered a quick apology and you pressed your face into his shoulder to keep yourself from bursting out into laughter.

The entire ceremony, Bucky managed to keep a smile on your face, whispering teasing comments into your ear and making fun of the bride’s father who sat with his arms crossed over his chest, red faced, the entire time. You thought you might actually survive this up until the moment the minister requested for Jack and Lena to recite their vows.

Jack pulled out a piece of paper from his jacket and your breath hitched in your throat.

He wrote his own vows?

He couldn’t have been bothered to get you a card on Valentine’s Day or remember your birthday but he chose to write his own vows?

“I have loved you since the first day I saw you,” Jack started and you gripped tight to the pew ahead of you. “I remember the exact dress you were wearing because I’d never seen anyone more beautiful in my entire life.”

Your hand was shaking and even as Bucky noticed, trying to sooth you with a cautious hand laying on top of yours, you could feel the lump burning in your throat.

“It was spring. The flowers were blooming on the cherry blossoms by the library on campus. You were walking out of your econ class carrying four different books and struggling just to see above the bindings. I knew in that instant, you’d be my whole world. Nothing else mattered to me in that moment. It all just faded away.”

You froze, breath caught in your throat. No, no that couldn’t be. He’d broken up with you right after graduation. The way he described his first-time seeing Lena, like it had happened in your last semester at school.

‘It all just faded away.’ You faded away.

He had already found his better option before he even left you.

Oh, God.

Tears were in your eyes before you could stop them. You could only vaguely hear Bucky whispering gently in your ear, his hand running soothingly along your arm, but none of it was registering, not as Jack looked so loving into Lena’s eyes, describing in painful detail the moment he decided to throw you away.

You clenched your hands into fists, digging your nails into your palms as your breaths started to come in with short gasps. Ignoring Bucky’s attempts to calm you, you pushed your way through the aisle, legs shaking and numb and disregarding the disgruntled comments of the guests you squeezed past. You didn’t even spend a second out in the open before you darted out into the back alcove of the church, away from prying eyes in an enclosed room likely meant to hide the bride before the ceremony began.

You stumbled around, trying to find something to ground yourself with but nothing was working. You were feeling light-headed up until the moment two hands grasped onto your arms and you were met with ocean blue eyes.

“Hey, doll, you’re alright,” Bucky whispered, brushing a fallen hair away from your face and letting his free hand slide down your arm until he took a firm hold of your own, guiding it up to his chest and setting it over his heart. “Breathe with me now. In. Out. Good, Y/n. You’re doing so well. Come on now, keep going.”

You nodded, following his instructions and trying to push past the dizziness in your head and the throbbing ache in your chest. He’d done this before, that much you could gather. He was a soldier; he’d mentioned that in the airport. You wondered if he ever got panic attacks like this and you winced at the thought, of even comparing your heartbreak over an ex who didn’t even treat you well to whatever horrors he’d faced overseas.

Bucky’s hand didn’t leave yours as it sat on his chest. His hands were much larger than yours, covering the whole of your palm, and he smiled gently at you the whole time. As your breathing came back down, he whispered praises, told you how safe you were, that you were going to be alright, that he wouldn’t leave you.

How is it that you only met this man at an airport less than twenty-four hours ago?

Bucky pulled out a chair for you once your breathing was more even and helped you to sit down. You glanced up at him, wiping away the tears from your eyes, expecting to find something like pity or annoyance on his face but you were only met with kindness, of empathy, and concern.

“You alright?” he asked carefully.

You could hear the mics picking up Lena’s vows in the background. You clenched your jaw and you nodded, trying to convince him and yourself that you were, but the lump choked you again and the tears came right back.

“I think he cheated on me,” you gasped out and Bucky’s smile fell instantly. “His—His vows. We were still together until after graduation. But he met her b-before and he kept saying nothing else mattered and—and that—that was me, Bucky, I didn’t matter—”

A sob choked its way through you and Bucky darted forward, gathering you in his arms and holding you tight to his chest. You clung onto him like he was your only tether to this earth, crying tears into the lapel of his blue suit as he rubbed his hand in gentle circles over the bare of your back between the straps of your dress.

“You matter, Y/n,” Bucky soothed, repeating it again and again like a mantra, “you matter, okay? Jack is an asshole and an even shitter boyfriend and you deserve so much more than that, do you hear me? You’re incredible and selfless and funny and so fucking beautiful it makes my stomach twist all up in knots just lookin’ at ya. You are the best option, remember? Y/n, I need you to hear me on this.”

“I hear you,” you mumbled into his jacket, though you didn’t quite believe it, not with Jack standing up there proclaiming his love for the woman he left you for.

“Let’s get out of here,” Bucky said, pushing you back from his embrace just enough to get a good look at your face. Your cheeks were rosy and eyes red with tears, and you were certain half of your makeup was down your face, but Bucky didn’t even flinch. He reached forward and brushed his thumb ever so slightly under your eye, wiping away a trail of mascara and tears. “We don’t have to stay, Y/n. We can leave now and go do something fun. Screw Jack and this stupid wedding.”

You laughed despite yourself, but you shook your head. “If I leave now, I’ll never live it down. I can’t be the ex that ran out of the ceremony and deserted the reception. Especially since Jack knows I’m here and Marci will tell every goddamn person at this wedding how pathetic I am.”

“Who gives a shit what those people think?” Bucky shrugged, trying to draw a smile out of you, but your jaw was clenched shut. He sighed. “You give a shit, don’t you?”

“I wish I didn’t,” you replied defeatedly, eyes darting to the floor and shame seeping into your features.

“Okay,” Bucky nodded, tucking a flyaway hair behind your ear and then gently rubbing at the mascara stains on your cheek, “guess we better make the most of it, huh?”

He offered you his hand and you took it gratefully. The two of you started to make your way back into the church when suddenly the door to your secluded room swung open and Marci was standing in the frame. She narrowed her eyes, clearly not expecting to find you here.

“What are you doing?” she snipped, though her voice was light and airy, “the ceremony just ended. Jack and Lena are outside greeting the guests.”

Her eyes fell on Bucky then and she softened immediately. Of course, she did. She was the type of effortlessly stunning you expected Bucky to want but as she trailed her gaze down his body, you felt him stiffen next to you. The moment she caught sight of your hand encased in his, she clenched her jaw.

“Sorry, who are you?” she asked Bucky, stepping closer to him and ignoring your presence completely.

Your lips parted, trying to come up with an excuse because she had seen you at the bar, she’d known you’d been here alone, but you couldn’t form a single strand of words. Thankfully, Bucky was quicker on his feet than you and he darted his free hand out for her to shake.

“Bucky, the boyfriend,” he said casually and your heart stopped. Boyfriend? “I flew in last minute to surprise my girl, but don’t fret, you can tell the happy couple I plan to steer clear of the food and drinks so they don’t have to worry about paying extra for my crashing.”

He pulled you tighter to his side, arm draping over your shoulders and a giddy smile on his face as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head like it was nothing. Marci didn’t seem convinced, only that was probably more due to the fact that it was you Bucky was talking about and not because he wasn’t a convincing liar. You were pretty convinced for a moment yourself.

“Right,” Marci drawled, reaching to the desk to pick up the marriage certificates, “I guess I’ll see you at the reception. Jack is so looking forward to seeing you, Y/n.”

You nodded, though your hand balled into a fist. In any other tone, maybe her parting words could have sounded like a warm invitation, but to you, they were a threat.

The moment she disappeared out the door and you were alone again, Bucky let out an exasperated sigh.

“She’s… something else,” he grunted. “We should get going if we want to make it to cocktail hour before all the shrimp are gone.”

“Thought you weren’t going to eat?” you chuckled under your breath, the tension fading from your muscles and Bucky must have felt it because his hand snaked back down your arm and into your own.

“Never said I wouldn’t steal one or two off your plate,” he grinned back, leading you to the door and away from your brief sanctuary. You didn’t feel as afraid stepping out of this room when you had Bucky’s hand encased in your own.

***

You didn’t know how you would have survived if it wasn’t for Bucky at your side. The entire cocktail hour, guests gathered in the luxurious ballroom halls, standing around high-top tables with tiny appetizers and mingling amongst themselves. Some were old friends from college, others were extended family you recognized from your time with Jack. They all sent incredibly unsubtle glances in your direction as they whispered to one another.

“The shrimp are overcooked,” Bucky grumbled, though you knew full well they were cooked to perfection and he was just trying to make you feel better. “You sure you don’t want to skip this joint and go to that ice cream shop I was telling you about? I hear it's incredible. I’m tellin’ ya, doll.”

“I’m sure, Bucky,” you said with a soft smile, though as you watched him press his lips into a thin line and nod, your stomach ached a little. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I’ll be—I’ll be fine on my own.”

“What? No way,” Bucky shook his head as he grabbed another plate of shrimp from a waiter as he passed by. “I’m not going anywhere. Just wanted to give you an out if you needed it. I love weddings, even if they’re for cheating, asshole ex boyfriends. You should see me on the dance floor. You’ll regret ever knowing me.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” you mumbled under your breath as Bucky took another bite of shrimp. He smiled at you and you weren’t sure if he’d heard you or not, but your heart was swelling to five times its size and you were certain you’d be devastated when the night ended.

The waiters began to guide the guests to the main ballroom and you shuffled in behind Bucky, holding tight to his hand as he led you to where your name plate was listed. As you came up on the table, you realized there wouldn’t be a seat for him.

He noticed too, but he didn’t say a word as he sank down into your chair, and patted his thigh. You froze, narrowing your eyes on him as a heat burned in your face but he started to chuckle, waving you off before he stood and offered you the chair.

“Only joking, Y/n,” he smiled sweetly as you sat down. He crouched next to you, as not to obstruct the view of the incoming wedding party from the guests behind him.

As the announced the bridesmaids and groomsmen, even as Marci came dancing out from behind the double doors, you managed to keep your composure. That was, until Jack and Lena were announced and they sauntered out into the ballroom to enthusiastic applause, smiling widely at one another and so clearly in love it made your stomach twist into painful knots.

You weren’t in love with Jack. That was never the issue, though you wondered if that was what Bucky thought as he watched you carefully as Jack and Lena prepared for their first dance as a married couple, the song echoing through the speakers one on a playlist you had made him for his twenty-first birthday.

No, you didn’t love Jack, not anymore, but you wondered constantly why he never seemed to love you. He certainly couldn’t have then if he left you so easily and you hadn’t even known at the time it was for another woman.

He had said he wanted to look at better options but you always thought it was hypothetical. You didn’t realize he had already found someone else, someone better. You wondered if you were broken; wondered why the one man you’d ever loved, ever given yourself over to wholly, could leave you like you had meant nothing to him.

That was why watching him with Lena was so painful. He was capable of great love and kindness and compassion, but he’d never looked at you with even an ounce of the way he looked at her.

You must have been gripping the edge of the chair tight enough for your muscles to twitch because Bucky’s hand gently sat over yours. He turned to you with a sad kind of smile and that sweet look in his eyes and you wondered if maybe he would find someone better than you, too.

The dance ended and the crowd erupted into applause; the happy couple beaming and thanking their guests as the DJ started to play upbeat music. You watched at Jack led Lena to the head table, offering her to pull out her chair and you rolled your eyes.

“Alright, let’s go,” Bucky huffed, jumping back up to his feet and holding out his hand. You narrowed your eyes, lips pursing.

“What are you—”

“Time to dance, doll. Let’s go,” he said again, prying your hand away from the back of the chair when you refused to budge and started to tug you to the clearly empty dance floor. He yanked you enough to get you on your feet and you were already panicking.

“Bucky! No! This is—this is a bad idea,” you whispered frantically as Bucky dragged you to the center of the dance floor and you darted your head around the room looking for people to laugh and point but no one was playing attention, certainly not as Bucky started to sway his hips and several couples came up to the dance floor to join you.

“It only takes a few people to get the party started,” Bucky shrugged, gesturing to the now packed dance floor as he danced along to the beat, though you remained completely still. He grunted, grabbing onto your shoulders and forcibly moving you in a swaying motion until you started to laugh and he grinned, letting you go as you danced on your own.

***

You didn’t leave the dance floor for nearly an hour, shouting out the lyrics to songs you didn’t even know you had memorized until sweat beaded on your forehead and you forgot who’s wedding you were at in the first place. Bucky was infectious, in every sense of the term; his joy, his laugh, his smile, his overwhelming selflessness. He dropped everything the moment he sensed you were upset and he barely even knew you. What would he do if he’d known you for days? Months? Years?

As he laughed at himself for nearly tripping over his own foot as he spun you around, you wondered if maybe there was something more beyond the stranger who approached you in the airport earlier that morning.

That was, until the DJ announced he was going to “cool things down” and the upbeat music faded into acoustic guitar and slow melodies.

You stumbled slightly in your stance, looking around awkwardly to the couples as they held onto their loved ones, others retreating back to their seats with tired groans. You started to back away to save yourself from the embarrassment of it all, but then, Bucky’s hand latched onto yours.

You turned back to him with wide eyes and you were only met with that beaming grin of his as he pulled you hard enough to come crashing back against his chest. Your hair flew into his face, hand gripping onto the lapel of his jacket for support.

He let out that laugh of his that made your stomach weak as his hand snaked around your waist, holding you still against him but giving you the leeway to move if you wanted to escape. His free hand gently pushed the hair away from your face as he started to sway softly, guiding you along with him and you were sure your breath was locked in your lungs.

“Don’t tell me you were gonna abandon me, doll?”

You chewed on your lip, looking just about anywhere but his eyes. “I don’t usually… um… slow dance.”

“What? Jack never dance with you?” Bucky teased, though you could hear the hint of bitterness behind his voice as he stole a glance over at the head table. When you didn’t respond because you simply couldn’t stand the humiliation of admitting he was right, Bucky clenched his jaw tightly, muscle twitching in the effort. His smile was tense now, though he tried to push aside his anger. “Well screw him. I’m dancing with you, ain’t I? And you’re wonderful at it. Poor sucker doesn't even know what he’s missing.”

You smiled sadly at him as his fingers rubbed careful patterns into the small of your back, encouragingly, reassuringly, and you rested your cheek on his shoulder. The action must have surprised him because you felt his breath hitch, though he relaxed just as quickly, humming along to the song. Off key and still like honey, like the moments before you met him.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, swaying gently with him until you unclasped your right hand from his left and wrapped both arms around his neck, his at your waist. Two, three songs passed by and you held him close, listening to the soft brushes of his breath and the fluttering of his heartbeat.

Leaning back slightly because you simply had to know what was going on in his head, you were met with startling blue eyes, though softened and longing for something you couldn’t quite believe. He swallowed, eyes flickering down at your lips.

“Bucky,” you whispered his name, unsure of what you even wanted to say when he was looking at you like that. Your heart was pounding in your chest, thunderous and exhilarated, as he leaned in closer. His breath ghosted against your lips and you swore the entirety of time stopped in that instant, up until the moment a disgruntled cough beside you pulled you both from your daze.

You both flinched at the sound as the elderly woman coughed again, turning to face her as she scowled in your direction before she smiled sweetly at Bucky. She was carrying a handkerchief in her hand, patched of bright red lipstick on the white cloth.

“You looked like a strong young man,” she started and Bucky sent you a glance that made you chuckle, biting on your lip to suppress it before the woman could notice. “My nephew needs some assistance in carrying some of the alcohol barrels from the truck.”

“Kegs?” Bucky asked with a light laugh and she nodded.

“Won’t you be a dear? I’m sure your date won’t mind,” she said, shaking her handkerchief in your direction though she didn’t spare you a glance. You supposed it was something to get used to around Bucky; women of all ages fawning over him, if you ever got the chance to even try to get used to it.

Bucky clenched his jaw, exhaling a tight breath from his nose. “Ma’am, I would, but I’d rather not leave my--”

“Go,” you offered, stepping back from him and pulling away his hands from your waist. He frowned, smile falling instantly but you brushed your hand over his cheek, drawing it back almost instantly. “I’ll be fine, Buck. Go. You won’t be long.”

He nodded and the elderly woman grinned, exposing yellowed teeth with lipstick stains mixed in.

“Be back the second I can,” he promised, grabbing your hand on his cheek and pulling it to his lips, kissing at the knuckles chastely and you were sure your heart stopped beating entirely. He stepped back, offering his arm to the woman as she walked him in the direction of her nephew, leaving you alone on the dance floor surrounded by couples.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to get some air. Without Bucky by your side, the room felt incredibly lonely again and you found yourself searching for a glass of bourbon. Quickly grabbing one from the bartender and making your way outside past the double doors to the back patio, a fresh wave of air hit you and you relaxed instantly.

You looked out to the skyline of the city and sun setting in the distance and flourish colors painting the sky. It was a wonder you stumbled upon something so beautiful. You took a sip of the bourbon, hoping Bucky would find you again before the sun disappeared behind the buildings because you hated the thought of him missing something as incredible as this.

Leaning against the railings, you took a moment to get lost in the sunset. But then, a few minutes later, a hand settled on your shoulder that made your heart jump enough to nearly drop your glass onto the patio floor.

You shrieked, hand clutching to your heart as you steadied the glass in your hand to find Jack holding his hands up defensively at his sides. Your eyes went wide, jaw clenching, and you cursed yourself for even thinking you could get through this wedding without ever having to talk to him.

“It’s good to see you, Y/n,” Jack grinned, eyes falling up and down your figure and you found yourself crossing your arms over your chest, keeping your glass close to your lips because you’d surely need another sip soon. He smirked though his eyes were cold. “You look good.”

“You, too,” you said awkwardly, looking around at the scenery to avoid his eyes. “Congratulations, by the way. Lena is stunning.”

Jack nodded, hands slipping into his pockets as he glanced back into the reception area. “Yeah, she is, isn’t she?”

You swallowed nervously, tapping your foot and silently begging Bucky to find you before you made a complete fool of yourself.

Jack took a step closer to you, staring down at you from his height like a hawk stalking prey. You realized then, that he always made you feel owned, powerless. He didn’t love you in the way you thought he did, the way you so naively thought he was capable of. It wasn’t until you met Bucky that you got even a glimpse of what it felt like to truly be wanted, to be enjoyed, and you’d only known him for a day. He taught you more about what it meant to love someone than Jack did in three years.

“I didn’t think you’d come, actually,” Jack said with a shrug, “after how badly you took the breakup and all.”

You clenched your jaw so tight your muscles ached within seconds. You remembered that day well; with the tears streaming down your face and his cold, hard demeanor as he watched you beg him to stay without an ounce of remorse. You never thought you’d survive that night, but you had, and you did, and you still were, and maybe you were finding a way to forget it.

“I saw you run out of the ceremony, you know,” he said slowly, his hand pushing out to run along your arm and you shivered involuntarily, both revolted by his touch and unable to walk away. “I know you’re still in love with me, baby. It’s okay to admit it.”

You shook your head, “no, I—I'm--”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Y/n,” Jack purred, his hand snaking up into your hair and cupping your cheek. Your breaths were uneven, shaken, and you didn’t have the strength to pull away. Whether it was because of his lingering power over you or the fact that you were outside in the dark, alone with him that forced you still, you didn’t know.

“I’m not--”

“You don’t have to make up some fake boyfriend to get my attention.” Jack brushed his thumb over your mouth and you closed your eyes, unwilling to watch the way he licked at his own lips in the movement. “We both know that you won’t do better than me, baby. I was your best option. You’ll have to find a way to accept that I’ve found mine and... it wasn’t you.”

Your jaw was quivering. He had you exactly where you were three years ago. Lost. Insecure. Broken. The amber liquid in your glass was rippling as your hand trembled.

“There you are, sweetheart! I was looking everywhere for you,” Bucky’s voice carried out into the patio in rush of relief as you quickly stepped away from Jack’s hold on your face. Wearing a bright smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes, Bucky jogged out to meet you and tossed his arm around your waist, tugging you close enough to press a kiss to your cheek that drew a gasp from your lungs.

Jack narrowed his eyes suspiciously on Bucky. “You must be ‘the boyfriend.’” He wasn’t convinced.

“That’s me,” Bucky grinned, pulling you tighter against him, protectively. “Listen man, the ceremony was beautiful but I gotta apologize for sneaking out mid-way through.”

Your eyes widened, heart jumping, as Jack furrowed his brow. You had no idea where Bucky was going with this and you were terrified to find out. You tried stepping on his foot, pinching his side, but he pressed on, urged by the scowl Jack was sending in your direction.

“You know how it is when you see your girl all dolled up and you just can’t keep your hands off her,” Bucky shrugged casually and though you could tell it was an act, Jack couldn’t. He would have laughed it off it was any other woman, but it was you, and he certainly didn’t believe for a second that Bucky could feel that way about you.

“Church or not,” Bucky continued, “I just couldn’t keep myself together. Thought I was gonna lose it if I couldn’t have her right then. But I’m sure you remember how it is.”

Jack nodded tensely though he was lying through his teeth. He never wanted you in the way Bucky was describing and you could feel your heart breaking at the thought that no one ever would. Bucky was acting, playing the part he assigned for himself earlier in the evening when he was talking to Marci just to spare you from the humiliation of admitting how truly pathetic you were. He couldn’t possibly be serious, couldn’t actually want those things. Hell, he hardly knew you.

You had to remind yourself again and again that you’d only known Bucky a day and not a lifetime, because it sure as hell felt like an eternity.

“Have a nice night man and congrats,” Bucky said, voice a little flatter, harder. He looked over to the sunset and down to you as he softened. “I’m gonna spend some time with my girl now, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jack grumbled, stealing one last look at you before disappearing back into the ballroom.

The second Jack was out of sight, your whole body relaxed. You expected Bucky to jump away from you, shake his hands off awkwardly, but he didn’t budge. He kept his arm draped around your waist, glaring back in Jack’s direction as he mingled with guests beyond the double doors.

“Sorry about all that, doll,” Bucky sighed nervously. “I just saw him touching you like that and how uncomfortable you were and with the bullshit he was saying... I just had to do something.”

You nodded, though you couldn’t meet his eye. Bucky’s hand brushed up against your cheek in startling contrast to the way Jack had touched you, with such a tenderness that his fingertips just barely grazed against your skin. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and sighing gently.

“You’re worth so much more than what he says,” Bucky exhaled, holding you gingerly against him. He believed what he said, that much you could tell, but you couldn’t stop the thoughts racing in the back of your mind telling you that he was wrong, that he was naïve and making you out to be something you’re not, into a whirlwind fantasy of a girl he met in an airport at midnight. You couldn’t be that forever.

“Bucky, you don’t even know me,” you mumbled defeatedly and you could feel Bucky’s thumb brushing over your cheekbone, the clench in his own jaw at your words.

“You really believe that?” he whispered, his breath touching your lips. “You think it takes months or years to know how you feel about someone? I don’t need time to know I like you, to know you’re a good person and you deserve someone who cares about you, not—not someone who’s going to spend years putting you down and making you feel like you don’t matter. You matter, Y/n. You matter to me.”

Tears were welling in your eyes but you pushed them back. “You’ve only known me a day--”

“Then imagine how it’ll be in a week or a month, if you’ll let me stick around,” Bucky smiled, so incredibly sincere and it made your heart flutter. “I meant what I said. I had hoped you’d call. I was thinking I could take you out on a real date and show you this spot in Brooklyn I think you’d like in the park surrounded by flowers and this tiny little vender with the thickest Italian accent you’ll ever hear in your life.”

You laughed a bit at that before you realized and Bucky pressed his lips to your forehead, soft and warm and aching close.

“I never thought you’d call so soon, but believe me when I say I’m happy that you did,” Bucky continued, wrapping both of his arms around your shoulders as you tucked your face against his neck, inhaling the warmth of his scent. He sighed, adjusting his stance but not lessening his hold on you for anything. “I got to see you all dressed up and impress you with my best friend’s suit. Plus, did you see the look on Jack’s face? That asshole finally saw what he was missing out on.”

“That’s sweet, Bucky, but I think he’s just bitter he can’t control me the way he used to,” you shrugged, arms circling around his waist. Cheek pressed to his chest, you listened to the tender thumps of his heartbeat as you gazed out at the stunning array of colors lighting up the sky.

“Who cares what he thinks,” Bucky concluded and you could hear the soft laugh in his voice. He pulled you back after a moment, smiling at you and brushing the crease from your cheek earned from the fold of his lapel. “Can we get out of here now?”

“Yeah, I’m done putting myself through hell,” you nodded, taking his hand as he extended it to you, leading you back into the ballroom to escape through the front door.

You walked past Jack and Lena as they stood by the cake, ready to cut the first slice, and Jack’s eyes followed you across the ballroom as you trailed behind Bucky, narrowed and bitter. You only pursed your lips at him, the smile not reach your eyes as you gave a subtle wave and followed Bucky out the door.

Marci was lingering in the hallway and she parted her lips to say something but Bucky held up a hand, silencing her before she could speak.

“Sorry Mary, we’re heading out,” Bucky waved and her whole face scrunched up in anger as she grumbled her name under her breath. You burst into laughter as Bucky turned over his shoulder to wink at you as he threw open the double doors, leading you out into the cold, crisp air.

You might have expected for him to drop your hand the moment you were free from the lingering stares of Jack and Marci, but he didn’t. He held it firm in his own as he led you down the sidewalk, amongst the busy nightlife and under the blanket of dark blue freckled in stars.

A chill swept up your spine and Bucky only released your hand for a moment to shrug his jacket off his shoulders and swing it around yours.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said quickly, though the warmth of it and the smell of him flooding your senses make it incredibly difficult to object. Bucky shook his head, helping you slide your arms into the sleeves and though it draped loosely around you, he smiled like you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“I’ve got long sleeves and pants, doll,” Bucky chuckled, grabbed your hand again and swinging it by his side as he kept pace, “and you have neither. I’m good.”

“Only if you’re sure,” you mumbled, snuggling into the jacket and leaning just a few inches closer to him with every step.

“Oh, I’m definitely sure. Might let you keep it and everything. Looks better on you than it ever did on me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I thought you side this was your friend’s suit.”

“Steve won’t mind,” he shrugged with a grin. “The guy’s about twice his own size by now. He wore this back in his transition phase between being a twig and full-blown Adonis. I doubt he could fit into it these days.”

“It’s such a good color on you, Bucky, I’d hate to miss the opportunity to see you in it again,” you teased, surprised by the confidence in your own voice and for the first time, Bucky nearly choked on his own words.

“Yeah, well I guess you’ll have to return it to me next time, then.” He beamed at you and though it was dark and he was barely illuminated by the light of the streetlamps, you could see the slight flush in his cheeks.

You walked with Bucky nearly ten minutes before he pulled you to a slow stop in front of an ice-cream shop with stickers in the windows and two teenagers sitting on the counter, talking to one another with cell phones in their hands and bright red t-shirts displaying the name of the shop across the back.

“This was my plan in the event you wanted to ditch,” Bucky explained, pulling you up to the counter. “Google has it at 4.6 stars so it better be just-went-to-an-ex's-wedding-and-he's-still-a-huge-fucking-asshole good.”

You laughed, shoving Bucky’s shoulder and the teenagers behind the counter must have caught onto your presence. One came jumping up to the counter with blonde hair thrown in a messy bun on the top of her head and rows of hair ties on her wrist. She grinned at Bucky before glancing back at her friend. You laughed under your breath, knowing this would just have to be something to get used to if Bucky was really going to stick around. You were working on believing him.

“I’ll take a Rocky Road, and,” he turned to you, “what do you want, doll?”

“Mint chocolate chip,” you answered, clinging onto his arm and watching excitedly as the girl in the back of the shop started to scoop.

It had been ages since you’d been to a small ice cream shop like this, run by local teenagers at absence hours and has probably been around for decades. There wasn’t even anywhere to sit but you figured it had to be good if it was still standing amongst all the hipster joints and cafes.

Bucky paid for the ice cream before you could even notice and he handed you your cone with a grin. You pouted at him and took the cone gratefully. It was cold on your teeth as you licked around the sides, but it was perfection. Definitely worth those 4.6 stars. Might even be fall-in-love-with-the-handsome-stranger-at-the-airport good.

“Thank you,” you said as you went in for another scoop, lapping up the melting drips as it threatened to slip down your hand. Bucky watched you amusingly, chuckling sweetly as he gestured to a bench sitting facing a small park.

As you sat down, Bucky’s arm draped around your shoulders over the back of the bench. He settled in next to you and you found yourself scooting closer to him. You sat in silence together, just watching the birds at the played in the tiny fountain a few feet away and giggling as Bucky tried to avoid getting chocolate stains on his white shirt. You took your last bite and wiped the edges of your lips with your napkin, looking up to Bucky to find he had finished too.

“You have a bit of, um,” you laughed nervously as he furrowed his brow. Stretching up, you licked the edge of your thumb before you brought it to the corner of his lips, swiping at the chocolate on his cheek. Bucky bit his lip, face heating slightly as he watched you, though once the chocolate was gone, you made no effort to pull away.

“Thanks,” he sighed, like a plea in his voice giving you the courage you needed and you surged forward, capturing his lips in your own.

It didn’t take more than a second for Bucky to respond as your hands cupped at his cheeks, drawing him closer and his arms snaked around your waist. His lips were cold, tasting of chocolate and almonds that only intensified as he parted his lips further, his tongue sweeping at your own and you choked back a moan. His hands roamed around your hips, gentle and longing, and holding you as close as he could manage because even with your lower lip between his own, it wasn’t enough.

But then, the sharp ring of his phone echoed through the park, startling you enough to force you to jump back, panting, lips swollen in the kiss and Bucky groaned. He sent you an apologetic grimace as he glanced down at the caller ID, his whole body slumping as he lifted it to his ear.

“Hey ma,” Bucky answered, his voice already drained in the effort. “’Course I’ll be there. Why would you think I’d back out?... Does she know yet?... I’m trying my best here ma but I can’t guarantee she’ll--... No, you don’t understand I’m--… Yeah, okay. See you tomorrow.”

Bucky hung up the phone, a dejected look on his face as he slid it back into his pocket. “I really wish she would have chosen just about any other moment to call.”

You smiled, leaning forward to kiss his cheek and he started to relax a little.

“You helped me forget about tomorrow for a while,” he said, rubbing his hand over your thigh. “Don’t know the last time anyone was able to get me out of my own head. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Buck,” you whispered sincerely. “You’re the one that crashed the wedding. You showed up all on your own. Didn’t even invite you or anything.”

Bucky laughed, drawing the crinkles by his eyes and the warm-hearted smile you adored. He sighed, letting out a heavy exhale before he spoke again, though he kept his gaze straight ahead. “Do you think—Is there any way you’d want to-- Would you maybe--”

“Yes,” you answered quickly, not even having to take a second to think. He turned to you with wide eyes, surprised. “Yes, Bucky, I’ll go with you. You helped me through today, didn’t you? You made an unbearable situation... fun. I know it’s not the same and I know this is family and it’s fragile, but if you want some support, if you want someone to hold your hand and remind you that you’re incredibly selfless and strong and kind and that under it all, your sister still loves you, no matter what happens, I’m there.”

“You’d do that?” His voice was so small, insecure and lost and you wondered if that was how you sounded to him when you talked about Jack. Broken, hurting. It tore at your heart.

“Absolutely,” you replied, grabbed his hand and pulling him back to his feet. “Come on, now. It’s almost two in the morning. We should get you back to your place before the sun rises if you want to look presentable for this graduation.”

Bucky nodded, dragging his feet playfully as you tugged him towards the road, waving for a taxi. On your first try, a yellow cab pulled up by the curb and you winked at him. He shook his head in awe.

“I ever tell you how happy I am it was you I met in Charlotte?”

“You might have mentioned it,” you shrugged with a grin.

Bucky opened the door for you and gestured for you to slide in but you shook your head.

“My hotel’s right here, actually,” you said pointing to the building across the street. The cab driver started fussing the in the front and Bucky slipping a few dollars through his window just to wait. The was a slight panic in his face, like he wasn’t ready for the night to end so soon.

“Text me the address and when to meet you,” you said, grabbing his hand and playing with the lifelines on his palm. “I’ll be there, Bucky. I promise you aren’t alone in this. I’m with you.”

He nodded quickly, trying to convince himself. The seamless transitions between this flirty, teasing man with confidence unlike anything you’d ever seen and the shy, insecure guy with a guilt complex the size of Brooklyn was baffling to watch, but he was pieces of a whole. He was both at once.

You leaned up onto the tops of your toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips; soft, chaste, and gone before he had the chance to deepen it. You smiled at him, gently shoving him down into the taxi as the cab driver started to grumble under his breath again.

“Tomorrow,” you promised and Bucky nodded. Kissing the back of your hand as you slowly pulled away.

“Tomorrow,” he agreed and let you close the door. You watched from your spot on the sidewalk as the taxi pulled out into the empty road and waited until it disappeared from view.

Once he was gone, you quickly made your way across the street to your hotel, giving a slight wave to the hostess behind the counter. In your room, you shrugged off Bucky’s jacket and hung it up on a hanger from the closet, pressing out the wrinkles and examining it for any drips of light green ice-cream. Then, you changed into your pajamas, wiped your face of makeup and climbed into fresh linen sheets.

To your left, your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You picked it up to find a single text.

I’m with you, too.

You held your phone to your chest, smiling so wide it ached in your cheeks. You fell asleep a few minutes later, the phone still clutched in your hand. Bucky’s light blue jacket hanging in the closet.

To believe I walk alone Is a lie that I've been told So let your heart hold fast For this soon shall pass Like the high tide takes the sand [Let Your Heart Hold Fast – Fort Atlantic]

feedback is so so appreciated 💖

tags 🌸 @sweetheartbarnes / @musiclover1263 / @pies-wands-and-more / @buckygrantbarnes / @mywinterwolf / @breatheeagainnnn / @jewelofwinter / @panic-naran / @fairislesheets / @kaliforniacoastalteens / @captain-hammer-of-asgard / @daydreamsquad / @deanssweetheart / @maybesomedaytho / @montypythonsholysnail / @saharzek / @imsoft-barnes / @galaxkay / @vitamingrant / @alohafromhell1 / @happyeyesandsunshine / @hillface89 / @searchingforbucky / @20coldhearts / @past-perfect-future-tense / @bucknasty-barnes / @clarysthing / @denimandcabernet / @ohthedevilsanus / @sarcasm-ing / @yknott81 / @jackie-houston / @michelehansel / @sanniegirl1214 / @grey-water-colors

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #marvel

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roseategales · 4 years

Text

VORACITY — ONE-SHOT.

author’s note: the smut in this fic mostly functions in the background and in dialogue, but, although it’s described in detail, is not the focal point. the fic was written to focus mainly on the discussion of motivation, consent, aftercare, and the dynamic between solas and my lavellan, who are in an established and loving relationship by the point that this fic happens in. thank you to @thebookworm0001 and @jarakrisafis for beta’ing. <3

_____________________________

“I can heal these.”

Cooled with a spell at the ready, Solas’ fingertips hover over her hip, where an imprint of his earlier grip on her is darkening to bruises. It’s not the only wine-red patch. There’s a counterpart on her other side; and an irregular trail of marks in the shape of his mouth, starting from her throat, wandering down to her breasts, and ending below her ribs. In the morning, their contrast on her skin will be deeper, and will appear harsher than they are in daylight’s emphasis. She’ll have to be grateful Josephine ordered so many high-collared tunics for her in spite of her protests. Secretly. Or her Chief Ambassador may fuss even more. But Eludysia doesn’t think those things warrant her worries. Nor should they warrant Solas’. Easily concealed displays of a night enjoyed with her dearly missed lover? Hardly worth the trouble, when their lives are full of worries as things are.

“So can I,” she reminds him. She curls closer to his side. “Leave it. I don’t mind them,” she says. If anything, they serve as a reminder that there are some things of Eludysia she can keep guarded. For her love. For herself. Apart from Herald and Inquisitor.

Solas hesitates for a moment, the line of his mouth severe, eyes searching hers in the shadows cast by the dim firelight. “Ma nuvenin,” he says eventually, when she voices nothing more. The spell is returned to the streams of the Fade, and he arranges the quilt to cover her body and his.

She should know him better by now, however. The way she’s learning to know the lean grace of his form, the sharp angles of his features, the specific timbre of his voice. His acquiescence to her is conflict with himself. She has her dismaying confirmation as he lays back down to face her and brush her hair behind her ear, without a kiss to her forehead or her lips. Without holding her. He tries a smile, but it’s as withdrawn as he is. Like he doesn’t dare to allow himself her closeness, his mind lost to rumination.

There’s something behind his offers to clean her up and heal her love bites.

“You’re upset,” she says, as both a statement and a question.

“Do I appear to be?” Solas asks. It’s tempting to interpret his lilt and raised brow as amused surprise, and not concern. A simple yes or no would’ve made it easier to pursue the subject. She wouldn’t feel like she’s walking on a thin line, caught between potentially overstepping his boundaries again or never knowing the reason for his reservation with her.

Her desire to know wins.

“You do appear to be,” she tells him. “You’re distancing yourself and dodging my question.”

“I do not wish to concern you, vhenan. Moreover, you must be tired after your journey from Ferelden, and I have stolen enough of your time and energy. You should sleep.” He winds his arm around her, palm flat on her spine. His thumb strokes her skin. If the gesture is meant to soothe her, it has the opposite effect.

“I’ll toss and turn the whole night if you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Eludysia is aware of the manipulative undertone to her words. Though she is being truthful and her intentions are genuine, she could have let this go. Didn’t he say he would work on trusting her? She could have admitted that she is tired, and asked if he would discuss things with her in the morning. She could have asked if he’d help her sleep with a spell. Left him to mull things over on his own in the Fade. Perhaps he’d feel better if she did. But then, she doesn’t feel it’s a good idea to leave the conversation here. It is just as likely that he’d continue to avoid the subject and she would be no closer to the explanation for his mood’s sudden shift. She was so happy to be able to see him and be held by him again. She counted down the days, ached to have him all over her at night. Her hand and mere recollections of him between her legs brought poor relief. She thought he ached similarly and was equally thrilled for her return. Now...

Solas removes his arm from her. He rubs his face, as though he was the one who’d spent a week in talks with the Ferelden crown and nobility on a mutual effort to expunge the Venatori. For a moment, she braces herself for him to evade her or leave again. She wouldn’t blame him. But he doesn’t. When he drops his hand, his expression is as composed as a still pool.

“All right,” he says quietly. “I fear I should not have taken you in the manner I did. I was reckless. Unthinking. I could’ve caused you worse harm.” He places two fingers under the mark at her throat, examining her. As if he waits for her to flinch away from him. She remains at his side, her breathing steady. “My actions were regrettable. I apologise.”

“You apologise,” she repeats, incredulous. Reckless. Unthinking. Harm. She turns each word, each meaning over. Tries to frame tonight’s sex in the light of them. She can see how reckless could be applicable. But unthinking? Harm? And if his actions were regrettable, what would he call hers? Who initiated what past the first kiss is a bit difficult to distinguish. Neither of them could get their clothes off quick enough, neither seemed like they could bear another second without the other’s touch. But this much is clear: She was exhilarated by the voracity of Solas’ desire. She encouraged every move he made. Fenhedhis, his back must’ve stung from her nails sinking into his flesh. He had murmured, “abelas,” when she gasped at how hard he bit her throat, and she bid him to do it harder.

He’d paused, looked up at her. His pupils were dilated, eyes dark as the Void. Did they dance in the firelight or did she imagine it? “Are you certain?” He asked.

She couldn’t help but arch into him. “Yes! Please!”

Eludysia’s worry heightens into alarm.

“Solas…” She says slowly, fearing where she next treads. “Was the sex tonight pleasurable for you?”

His brows crease. “That is besides the point.”

“No, it isn’t.” She winces. Her pitch is higher, shakier than she intended it to be.

He falls silent. A shadow passes over his face. “It… was. Yes.”

She has little cause to assume he’s lying. In all the time she has known him, Solas has proven to highly value truth and deplore falsehoods. He has and will avoid and obfuscate if he sees fit. Mostly out of caution. But he would never lie. Still, she wants to be certain. “Every second of it?”

“I would not have gone as far as I did if it were otherwise,” he says.

“Then why are you apologising? If it was pleasurable for both of us, I don’t see a problem.”

“What is pleasurable and what is beneficial is not mutually exclusive, vhenan.” Though he is gentle as he explains, he points the differentiation out as if it’s obvious. “We have not been apart for quite some time, and your trip to Ferelden was the first since we started having sex. It was like starving in the winter after eating of a summer harvest. We were driven by need and desire. That combination can be overpowering for anyone, making them desperate to be satisfied. I wanted nothing more than to have you, to make you cry out and come apart trembling in my hands as I slaked my lust.” He cards his fingers through her hair. Somehow, his touch underlines his description of what transpired, intimate yet distant. She’d wonder at how paradoxical he can be if she wasn’t familiar with his idiosyncrasies.

He continues, “I knew I had you riled. I asked for your consent not purely for your sake, but to permit myself indulgence. Even if you were not hurt or did not feel mistreated in the moment… I would never want a chance of that happening.” His eyes flit past her, like he sees something she can’t. A scene where she’s pushing him away, covered in bruises, feeling used, her trust broken? It vanishes as soon as it appears, and his gaze settles back onto her face. “Certainly not in bed.”

She considers what he has said. Her cheeks burn and her eyes sting. She catches his hand mid-stroke in her hair, and brings it to her lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his knuckles. Then she props up her pillow and sits, arranging and clutching the quilt tightly around her body. Solas watches her, questioning. As she cannot conceal the marks at her throat and the tops of her breasts from his view, she hopes her hair and the shadows fall in the appropriate places.

“Vhenan?” He probes.

Eludysia Adhlea Lavellan, you are a fool. Desiring is easy. Asking for explanations is easy. Receiving and examining them, and giving your own in turn—that’s the hard part.

“You’re the first person to care so much for me,” she says. A lump forms in her throat. She swallows, and glances at the sparks rising off the flames. Takes a breath to compose herself. “Growing up Dalish, sex was taught to me as a matter of practicality. We were given lessons on our bodies, taught how to protect ourselves, instructed through common knowledge and preserved texts and folktales, with the expectation of marriage and raising children one day. I’ve told you about my youth, so you know I was… Rather curious and rebellious.”

“As you’re still inclined to be.”

Solas’ wry note earns a nervous laugh from her. “You have a point. Well, I didn’t live in a village. I didn’t have a house with four walls and various rooms, let alone a castle, or stay anywhere long enough to figure out where there were good hiding spots. If I found someone to my liking, we had to be quick and discreet. That often meant we were rough. I’ve been bitten, swatted, I’ve had my hair pulled, and I’ve done the same to others—and there wasn’t time to embrace or curl up together or talk in bed like this.” Not even with Dhea. The thought is tinged with some regret. Not for what could have been. For what was. They were never right as a couple, but a few of the memories they made together might have been happier, had less insecurity and shame. Before Solas, she had no idea that sex could be so tender, so achingly sweet. She didn’t know someone could draw six, seven orgasms a night from her with the softest of touches. Nor what it would be like to be taken care of and then fall asleep in his arms afterwards. Being with him, in Skyhold and on their travels, has been a privilege she never envisioned for herself.

“I’m not telling you any of this to upset you further,” she hastens to add as his eyes widen. “But for you to understand: I like rough sex. I wouldn’t have sought it out or encouraged you if I didn’t. My only worry…” She swallows again. “Is that I’m mistreating you.”

He sits upright in an instant, closing the gap between them. “No, no. Nothing of the sort, vhenan.”

“You’ve done nothing but give into me, disregarding your own discomfort the entire night.”

“Would I not speak plainly if you had wronged me? My discomfort was caused by my guilt towards you. The actions I took were to assuage it.” He shakes his head at her. “You underestimate the extent of my selfishness.”

“Well, it’s not like I haven’t been selfish either.” Isn’t that how they ended up here? Mutual selfishness? She reaches for him with her free hand. He takes it, and she smiles faintly at their fingers interlacing together. “Heal the bruises if you like. I won’t complain.”

He hums, gently pushing her hair off her shoulders and lowering the quilt to her thighs. His fingers brush the edge of the mark at her throat. She tilts her chin up and straightens her posture for him. But he pauses. “First, answer this for me: Is there a reason you refused initially? You were fine with me fetching the cloth and wiping you.”

She shrugs. “Outside of this room, I’m the Herald and Inquisitor. People don’t see me. Not truly. They see whatever gives them faith, hope, or fear. You don’t. When I’m with you, I remember I’m more.” Gods, she sounds like Cole. Her nose scrunches. “I suppose the love bites and bruises just make that notion more tangible, odd as it sounds aloud.”

“On the contrary, it sounds like you’re clinging to your personhood however you can.”

Of course Solas would be the one to understand.

Eludysia cups his cheek and leans against his forehead. Her smile widens as his hand slides around the nape of her neck. “Maybe I don’t need them. Maybe it’s enough that you’re by my side.”

He chuckles, brushing his lips to hers. “I will be glad to remind you of the woman you are as often as you wish,” he murmurs.

Heat pangs in her belly at his words’ suggestiveness. “Good. Because if you’re up for another round…”

He pulls away, expression darkening. She opens her mouth to speak but all that comes out is a squeal as she is suddenly on her back, the mattress bouncing underneath, his body atop hers.

“It’ll be easier to heal everything with a single spell later,” he explains before she can ask. He pins her wrists above her head. She feels his cock hardening at her thigh. “Is this all right?”

She laughs, leaning up to drag her teeth over his lower lip. “Perfect,” she says.

The grin he gives is wolfish.

#dai fic #dragon age fic #solavellan fanfic #solavellan fic #dragon age.#mine.#my fics.#solas.#inquisitor : eludysia lavellan.#ship : solas & lavellan. in another world.#well this fic evolved #it was originally a lot more jokey and light and then i was hit with feelings #this... is the result of me thinking of that exchange solas has w/ cole post-here lies the abyss #the one where cole says 'it's not abuse if i ask!' and replies 'not always true'#*solas replies #dom/top!solas is...... heh....... dominant..... in fic #but i've been wanting to write something where sex is sort of in the background while aftercare and the power dynamics are the focus #for quite a while actually #i have to note: josie didn't order the tunics bc she knew solas and 'dysia were fucking asfhdadgds #skyhold is in the mountains. eludysia had few clothes on her back and had just become inquisitor #josie was an angel who wanted to make her friend feel warm and look presentable #solas and eludysia fucking later merely provided the tunics with another use #i hate them c:#(not cole and josie ofc)

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debbiechanclub · 4 years

Text

Best Two Out of Three, Part 7

So I REALLY wanted to get this posted yesterday for Hangman’s birthday... but I had a hell of a time figuring out how to end it, so I didn’t make it. BUT. I’m very happy with it. And it’s LONG. I actually got a little hot and bothered writing part of this... so I think y’all will like it, too XD. Lots of fluff and drama.

Best Two Out of Three

Part: 7/26

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC and Adam Page x OFC

Warnings: Cursing and some sexual language

Word Count: 4k

Catch up on previous parts here.

Alex awoke early the next morning. She tried to turn over and fall back asleep, but her brain wouldn’t let her. She couldn’t stop thinking about Kenny.

He’d held her hand the entire drive back to the hotel last night. She remembered him kissing her knuckles and butterflies exploding in her stomach. He’d walked her back to her room, and she’d reached up and wrapped her arms tight around his neck. She’d wanted so badly to kiss him, but she hadn’t. He’d held her close and was reluctant to let her go. He’d been the last thing on her mind as she’d fallen asleep, and now he was the first thing on her mind this morning. That had to mean something.

She looked at the clock. It was 8:17 a.m. Kenny was undoubtedly awake; he never slept in. She crawled out of bed and moved quietly into the bathroom, doing her best not to wake Chuck as he slept in the other bed. She brushed her teeth, cleaned up her smudged makeup that she’d neglected to remove the night before, and tamed her bed-head. And then she slipped out the door, still her pajama shorts and t-shirt.

Kenny was on the same floor; he’d told her his room number last night. She arrived at his door, and she took a deep breath and knocked.

It wasn’t too long before he answered. He smiled when he saw her. “Hey. I was just thinking about texting you, but I didn’t want to wa—”

She cut him off with a kiss. It surprised him at first—but then he wrapped his arm around her and drew her closer. “Well good morning to you, too,” he smiled against her lips.

She flushed as she pulled away. “You said if I still felt this way tomorrow that we could talk. Well, it’s tomorrow, and I’m sober, and I still feel this way. So here I am.”

She fidgeted as she spoke, suddenly self-conscious. What if he didn’t feel the same? What if she’d just made a huge idiot of herself? Maybe she should just go.

But then a grin broke out over Kenny’s face. “Come here,” he said, and he kissed her as he pulled her into the room, letting the door fall closed behind her.

* * * * * * * * * *

The next day, Alex laid on the couch in her den, watching TV but not really paying attention. Her thoughts were everywhere—good, bad, anxious, excited. And every single one of them was about Kenny.

They hadn’t talked yesterday morning. At least, not with any words, they hadn’t. They’d let their bodies do the talking. They hadn’t been able to undress each other fast enough as they’d blindly stumbled to the bed, getting lost in each other’s touch. Alex had dug her fingernails into Kenny’s skin, not caring how loud she was; he’d felt even better than she remembered. And when they were done, they’d gotten in the shower and done it again. It had been awkward as fuck going back to her and Chuck’s room with wet hair and that telltale flushed-with-sex glow. Thankfully, he’d spared her the embarrassment of asking any questions or making any comments. It was obvious what had happened.

But, after that, she and Kenny had basically gone their separate ways. They’d considered riding to the airport together but decided against it; Kenny was already going with the Bucks and Alex with Trent, Chuck, and James, and they both agreed it would be better not to draw any attention to themselves until they figured things out. But now that Alex was back home, all alone with her ruminations, she was starting to freak out about what exactly that meant.

She snatched her phone from the coffee table. She needed to talk to someone—and Adam was the only person she could go to with this. She typed up a text—Hey, can I call you?—and hit send before she could think better of it. It was less than a minute before he responded.

Yeah, give me a minute and I’ll call you.

She bit her lip, nervously waiting. When he called a couple minutes later, it was a FaceTime call. She hadn’t expected that; but she answered anyway. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he echoed. He had his hair pulled back and his glasses on. She’d seen him like that a million times before, but it still caught her off-guard. “What’s up? Is everything alright?”

“Is Callie around?” The question came flying out of her mouth without warning, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment at the strange look Adam gave her. But she needed to know. She didn’t want to risk Callie hearing any of what she was about to say.

“No; she went out for a run,” he answered. “What’s going on, Alex?”

She looked off into the distance, unsure how to begin. As much as she didn’t want to, it would probably be best to just spit it out—like ripping off a Band-Aid. “I slept with Kenny yesterday.”

Adam’s eyes widened behind his glasses. “Well that’s definitely not what I was expecting you to say.”

“I know.” Her cheeks flushed again as she brought a hand to her face. “Please don’t judge me.”

He shook his head. “I’m not. I’m just… surprised. Did you leave the party with him?”

“No,” she answered with a shake of her head. “Well—actually yeah, I did. But not like that. He gave me a ride back to the hotel, but I slept in my room. But then the next morning I went up to his room and… yeah.” She didn’t say any more after that. He could fill in the blanks well enough on his own.

“So…” he trailed off, clearly trying to get his thoughts together. “Was it just a spur-of-the-moment hookup, or…?”

Alex let out an anxious huff. This was the part she’d wanted to talk to him about. Because, honestly, she had no idea. “I don’t know. I mean yeah, I ran up to his room and jumped his bones without really thinking. But before we left the arena Thursday night… he practically admitted that he still has feelings for me. But we haven’t talked about it. We didn’t really have a chance.”

She frowned. In truth, she and Kenny hadn’t said much of anything at all to each other since she’d left his room yesterday morning. She’d texted him to let him know that she’d made it home, and he’d responded in kind—but that was about it. She had no idea what he was thinking or feeling about everything, and that didn’t sit well with her. At all.

“Well, do you still have feelings for him?”

Adam’s question cut through her thoughts like a knife. But, unfortunately, she didn’t have an answer for him. “I don’t know,” she admitted. It made him frown.

“Well then I don’t know what to tell you, Alex. You and Kenny need to sit down and figure things out.” He paused. And then he added, “I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

Alex faltered when he said that. No one knew more about what she’d gone through with Kenny than Adam; he’d been the shoulder she’d cried on throughout the whole ordeal. And now here she was a year later, crying to him about Kenny all over again. He was probably sick of it. It had probably been a mistake to burden him with it again. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered you with this,” she abruptly said. “I need to figure out my shit on my own.”

His brow furrowed. “What? Alex, you’re not bothering me with it. You can talk to me about anything—you know that.”

“I know I can,” she breathed. “But you and Kenny are the tag team champions and you just started getting along again, so the last thing I want to do is put you the middle between us. Plus, there’s the match with Callie in a few days and with everyone being at ringside… it’s just a giant fucking mess.” She let out a frustrated huff. She could only imagine how pathetic she looked. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been under a lot of stress lately and now with Kenny… it’s just a bit much.”

“So try not to think about it,” he said.

She gave him a flat look. “Really, Adam. Do you know me?”

He smirked. “Yeah, I do know you. But seriously. Kenny made you an option last time, so don’t give him your time or energy if he’s not gonna give you his. You deserve better than that.”

Alex bit her lip again. She knew Adam was right. But it was easier said than done. “I’ll try.”

“You better,” he returned, and she offered him a smile.

“Well, I’ll let you go,” she said. “And I doubt I have to ask, but please don’t mention any of this to Callie. I don’t want to give her any more reason to think Kenny’s gonna sabotage her on Wednesday.”

“Come on, of course I won’t mention it,” he assured. “I’ll see you at Dynamite.”

“Yeah, see you then,” she said, and she ended the call—trying, and failing, not to think about Kenny.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was the night of Alex’s hotly anticipated match against Callie. And as Alex laced up her boots in the Best Friends’ locker room, she felt like she might hurl.

“You alright, Alex?” James suddenly asked. “You look pale. I mean, more so than usual.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. I’m just nervous—more so than usual.”

That was the honest-to-goodness truth. Alex always got nervous before her matches; the good sort of nervous, fueled by excitement and adrenaline. But this wasn’t the good sort of nervous. This was the jittery kind of nervous, the kind fueled by anxiety and fear. She had no idea what was going to happen out there, with Callie or Kenny. And honestly—she was worried to find out.

But James waved her off. “Don’t be,” he reassured her. “Just keep a level head and you’ll already have Callie beat. Plus, Chuck and Trent will be out there to put a stop to any shenanigans.”

Alex glanced at Chuck and Trent across the room. Chuck didn’t say anything; but Trent cut her a look. “Kenny, too,” he lowly added.

She frowned and went back to lacing up her boots. Ever since Friday, Trent had been downright cold to her and Chuck had been distant. Alex wasn’t an idiot—she had a feeling she knew why they were acting that way. But she really didn’t want to open that can of worms right now.

Her phone suddenly chirped from where it sat next to her on the bench. It was a text. From Kenny. She bit her lip as she opened it. Hey. Come meet me in production.

That was all it said. It made her nervous all over again. But she’d waited five long days to see him again, so she finished lacing up her boots as quickly as she could and hurried out the door without a word.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she made her way through the halls. She walked faster the closer she got, and when she walked into production and saw Kenny, she exploded with nervousness. The good kind.

He smiled when he saw her. “Hey. Wow—is that new gear?”

She bit her lip as he looked her over. “Yeah. Does it look okay?”

He shook his head. “Don’t ask stupid questions. You look unbelievable,” he returned, and he pulled her into a kiss. Alex wrapped her arms around his neck as he led her back further into the room, behind the monitors. They were alone—but they could use some extra privacy.

Kenny nipped at her bottom lip as he pulled away. It was torture. “I missed you,” he breathed.

She smiled up at him. “I missed you, too.”

“Yeah? That’s good to know,” he smirked. “I wanted to see you as soon as I could. We never did have that talk I promised.”

Alex unwound her arms from his neck as she looked sheepishly down at the floor. “No, we didn’t.”

Just like he had the night of the party, Kenny reached up and brushed her hair away from her face. She looked back up at him. His voice came out soft and sincere as he spoke. “I’m sorry I haven’t said much since Friday. But everything I could think to say to you felt better said in person.”

Alex’s breath caught in her throat. She had absolutely no idea what he was about to say, but he had her complete undivided attention.

“I don’t want this to be like the last time,” he said. “I don’t want you to have any questions or doubts about how I feel or what I want. I want you, Alex. I want to be with you. And I want you to be with me. I want to do this right.”

Butterflies burst in Alex’s stomach, overwhelming her. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it hadn’t been that. She didn’t know what to say.

“But you don’t need to give me an answer right now,” he assured her. “I understand if you need some time to think about it, and we can take things as slow as you want… if you even want to take them with me at all.”

Alex didn’t say anything. Instead, she pulled his lips against hers. Kenny eagerly returned the kiss, holding her as close as he could, tangling his hand in her hair. They didn’t break apart until they needed to breathe.

“I don’t need time to think about it,” she said. “But I do think slow is good. Especially with the match tonight.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I thought about that. If you want to lay low for tonight, it won’t hurt my feelings.”

“It’s probably for the best,” she pouted. But Kenny tilted her face toward his and kissed her again.

“It is,” he agreed. “I’ll be as neutral as I can be out there tonight. Deal?”

She beamed up at him. “Deal.”

“Good,” he said, and she closed her eyes as he kissed her gently on the forehead. Tonight, this would be their little secret—and that was just fine with her.

“Alright, you should go get ready,” Kenny suggested. “You two are up first.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “Now you tell me?” She turned and started to run out of the room; but Kenny grabbed her and pulled her back.

“Hey—even though I’ll be out there in Callie’s corner, I’ll be rooting for you.”

She bit back a smirk as she pointed a finger at him. “Neutral, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grinned. He smacked her butt and nodded toward the door. “Go. I’ll see you out there,” he said; and as Alex went out the door, she suddenly felt ready to take on anything.

* * * * * * * * * *

Callie stood in the center of the ring, glaring at the top of the entrance ramp. Under normal circumstances, she would have taken her time posing for the camera and jawing at the people at ringside. But not tonight. Tonight, all she cared about was getting her hands on Alex.

Callie’s entrance music faded out, and for a few seconds the arena was filled with nothing but anticipatory silence. But then Alex’s music hit, and the small crowd immediately cheered as loudly as they could. Callie rolled her eyes; she couldn’t wait to shut them all up when she beat Alex within the five minutes.

Dasha smiled as she announced Alex’s entrance. “And her opponent; from Roanoke, Virginia; being accompanied to the ring by Trent Berretta and Chuck Taylor—Alex Haaaawwwwwthoooooorrrne!

Alex didn’t waste any time. She charged out of the babyface tunnel and made a beeline for Callie in the ring, Chuck and Trent hot on her heels. Aubrey intercepted her as she climbed through the ropes.

“Alex, back it up!” she warned.

But Alex wasn’t having any of it. “Ring the damn bell! I’ve been waiting to make this bitch tap for a week.”

Callie’s eyes darkened. “You’re gonna be waiting a hell of a lot longer, then,” she bit.

Alex tried to get at her, but Chuck and Trent held her back. The flurry of activity prompted Kenny and Adam to climb in through the ropes from where they’d stood at ringside.

“Alright, everyone just relax,” Kenny said as he put his arm in between them. But Callie smacked it away.

“Cut the bullshit, Kenny; no one’s buying it.”

Kenny bit down on his jaw as he sent Alex a sideways glance. But he raised his hands and stepped back.

Somehow, Aubrey managed to gain order. Chuck, Trent, Kenny, and Adam climbed out of the ring while Alex and Callie went to their separate corners. The bell rang, and they charged.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex was a technician; Callie was a brawler. And, for the majority of the match, neither of them had really been able to gain the upper hand over the other. But, at the moment, Callie was in control.

Alex laid prone on the mat, trying to catch her breath after Callie had tried to pin her again. But she didn’t get much of a break. “What was it you were saying, Alex?” Callie grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her up onto her knees. “You’ve been waiting to make me tap for a week? Please. Like I said—"

Smack! Alex abruptly cut her off with a resounding slap right across her cheek. Callie’s downfall was that she talked too much shit.

Callie slowly turned her face to look back at her. There was murder in her eyes. “Did you really just slap—”

Alex grabbed her and abruptly pulled her down into a small package pin. Aubrey slid to the mat and started counting—but Callie kicked out at two.

“Come on!” Chuck banged on the ring apron. “Stay on her, Alex!”

Callie crawled on her hands and knees to the ropes while Alex got to her feet, waiting. When Callie turned around, Alex charged and hit her with a running knee so hard that she fell backward through the ropes and out onto the mats below.

Kenny bit back a smirk, just a little bit proud of her.

Alex jumped down onto the floor. She grabbed Callie by the hair and pulled her to her feet. There was blood in her mouth. “Aw, it looks like I busted your mouth, Cal.” She pouted. “Don’t worry—we’ll get Britt to look at it later.” And she swung her around and tossed her back-first into the guard railing.

“Come on, bring it back in the ring, Alex!” Aubrey ordered. But she didn’t listen. She picked Callie up by the hair again and drove her face-first into the ring post.

Adam got involved at that point. “Alex, come on,” he implored. “What’re you doing?”

She cut her eyes at him but didn’t say anything in return. Right now, she couldn’t care less about his feelings—and she didn’t want to say anything she’d regret.

She stomped on Callie’s back before picking her up and rolling her back into the ring. As much as she’d like to beat up on her some more, it wasn’t a falls count anywhere match. She rolled in after her and hooked her leg in a pin. But Callie kicked out at two.

Alex sat up, frustrated. There was one way to end this. She pulled Callie up onto her knees, bent her backward, and locked in her submission finisher: the ’88 Sleeper.

Callie let out a muffled cry of pain. Chuck and Trent cheered while Kenny and Adam watched with bated breath. Alex wrenched harder, expecting her to tap any second; but Callie was a cagey bitch. Somehow, she managed to blindly reach up and rake Alex hard across the eyes.

“Ah!” Alex let her go and fell back onto the mat, blinded. The next thing she knew, Callie had her down in a pin. She kicked out at the last second.

“Come on, ref!” Trent argued. “You’re gonna let her get away with that?”

“How about you shut up over there?” Adam returned. It didn’t go over well with Chuck.

“Oh, are you mad, Hangman?” Chuck taunted. “Did ya just realize that cheating is the only possible way your girlfriend could beat Alex?”

Adam’s brow lowered. He stalked around the ring toward Chuck. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me,” Chuck returned. “Alex is better than Callie, and you know it.”

Adam took another step forward. Kenny put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, just ignore him,” he said—but Trent rolled his eyes.

“Oh, shut up, Kenny. If there’s one thing Callie is right about is that no one’s buying your bullshit.”

Kenny looked back at him, confused; but, all of a sudden, Callie slid underneath the bottom rope and hit Chuck with a hard baseball slide, sending him flying into the guard railing.

Trent took a threatening step toward her as she landed outside the ring. “Are you kidding me?”

“Hey, back the hell up.” Adam shoved him—and then all hell broke loose.

Trent threw a forearm and he and Adam started brawling. Back inside the ring, Alex got her bearings; once she realized what was going on, she jumped through the ropes to the floor. She started to help Kenny break Trent and Adam apart; but then Chuck jumped up and went after Kenny. Alex froze, unsure what to do—and then Callie grabbed her, whirled her around, and hit her hard across the jaw.

Alex stumbled back; but then she looked up and speared Callie to the ground. She struck out with a flurry of fists and forearms, and it was all Callie could do to try to block her. But then someone forcefully pulled Alex away and tossed her to the floor. She looked up. Her eyes widened in shock. It was Adam.

“That’s it—ring the bell!” Aubrey ordered. She hurried over to Dasha and told her the result. Dasha nodded as she brought the microphone to her mouth.

“And your winner by disqualification—Alex Hawwwwthoooorne!”

“WHAT?” Callie shouted. She glared up at Aubrey. “You’re gonna DQ me because he pushed her? I’m bleeding because of her!”

“He did a little more than just push her,” Kenny glared. He helped Alex up. “Are you alright?” he asked; but she didn’t answer. Her eyes were fixed on Adam.

“What the fuck?”

Adam opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry—” he started; but Callie cut him off.

“Don’t apologize to her! You didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Are you kidding me?” Chuck argued. “He fucking threw her!”

Adam rolled his eyes. “I didn’t throw her.”

“Yeah, you kinda did,” Kenny returned. Everyone stopped and stared at him. Adam’s brow lowered.

“Whose side are you on, Kenny?”

Kenny bit down on his jaw. Alex froze, worried what he would say—but then Callie scoffed.

“Please, do you really need to ask?” she shot.

Kenny started to answer; but Alex cut him off. “Why don’t you worry less about Kenny and more about the fact that your boyfriend just cost you the match?”

Callie glared daggers at her but said nothing in return. There wasn’t anything she could say.

Alex shook her head and turned to leave. But, before she did, she sent Adam a look over her shoulder. “Thanks for getting me the W, cowboy,” she said, and she walked around the ring and up the ramp.

Trent smirked at Adam and Kenny. The dissension between the tag team champions was obvious—and that was just fine with him. “Don’t forget about Fyter Fest,” he warned, and he and Chuck turned and followed after Alex.

Kenny watched them go—and then he looked back at Adam. “Question me all you want, but this one’s on you,” he said, and he turned and walked up the ramp.

#AEW #aew imagine #aew fanfic #aew fanfiction #adam page fanfiction #adam page fanfic #adam page imagine #adam page #hangman adam page #hangman page #hangman page fanfiction #hangman page fanfic #hangman page imagine #hangman page birthday week #Kenny Omega #kenny omega imagine #kenny omega fic #kenny omega fanfiction #best two out of three fic

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amerrierworld · 4 years

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Curtain. (iii)

Carol (2015) fanfiction

Pt: 1 | 2

Word Count: 1,884

"Hey, T, you alright?" Dannie said as they got back to Therese's place. He leaned against the wall as she struggled to get her keys out.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, ya seemed a bit distracted during dinner. Did something happen? Was it Richard?"

Therese hesitated in answering as her hand halted on the door knob. Sure, Richard was always a pain in her ass. Their respective jobs kept them apart, thank God, but Therese was never the keenest on keeping exes in her circle of friends. In this case she had no choice.

"Yeah, kind of. I mean, he's always been a misogynistic asshole, don't you think? I can only handle him for so long at any given time," Therese said, breezing inside with an air of nonchalance. Dannie wasn't having any of it as he followed her.

"Or was it a certain blonde boss that was keeping you from enjoying the night?" he asked as he followed her up the stairs.

"Shut up, Dannie," Therese quipped back without looking at him. "I'm stressed, alright? You might get a bit of a break now that the show's done, but I've got a new job coming up and that shit's never easy."

"Right, sorry, T, I didn't mean to upset you."

Therese sighed as they got to her door, turning to face him. "No, it's okay. I'm being weird, I know. It's just... well, sometimes I get confused, y'know? Like I just don't know what I want, and I get swept up in all these things and people around me, and I can't say no to any of it. Now what am I doing? I'm barely out, and barely paying my rent, and not doing the jobs I originally wanted to do. I never planned to be an art teacher of any kind. And it all just piles up."

She was staring at the ground, brows furrowed as she thought things through. Though she wouldn't tell Dannie the real aggressor of her overloaded thoughts was in fact the director, it was the only thing truly on her mind. She hadn't looked at anyone properly or found anyone as attractive as the blonde woman who she didn't even know the first name of. It scared her.

Two strong arms wrapped around Therese firmly and Dannie hugged her during her brief ruminating session.

"I can't imagine what it's like, T," he said, his chin on her hair. "I know it's probably tough, Phil's had a hell of a ride with figuring himself out and that took a toll on him. You've had it almost worse in my opinion, cause it took being with a shithead like Richard-"

Therese snorted.

"... to make you realize that you deserve more, and better."

"Being gay is the best thing in the world," Therese sighed. "But also the worst. No girls I look at ever know what they want. Or what they like. Or they're just experimenting. And, you know, homophobia..."

"Ignorance."

"Hate."

"Yeah, but girls."

"Yeah. Girls," Therese cracked a smile and Dannie did too. He bumped her arm playfully and she opened her apartment door.

"You wanna come inside for a drink?"

"Nah, I better head home. Phil's probably done his shift so I gotta make sure he eats at least something other than Redbull before he crashes on the bed."

"Gotcha."

"Let me know if you need anything, okay? I'm just a call away."

"I know, Dannie. Thank you."

"Goodnight T, have some sweet... blonde... dreams!"

Therese tried to swing her purse at him but missed as her best friend went cackling down the stairs.

September - before the first day

"Oh, Miss Belivet, is it?" asked the elderly lady at the front desk. Therese nodded, pulling at her skirt, her bag swung over her shoulder as she stood by the reception desk of the school- her new school.

She'd been working tirelessly the past week to really get herself in order. She even had a plan for the kids; themes accompanied with the crafts, and lessons in the art they were doing, not just mindless cutting and glueing. God, she definitely wasn't getting paid enough for this. Therese hoped her work would at least be appreciated.

"I was called to see the school today with Mrs... Robichek, I think it was?"

"Yes, you're right, I'll just page her down."

Therese waited by the receptionist, wandering a bit as she took in the school's architecture. Despite its clear technological advances of the relatively up-to-date phones, computers and printers, the school itself still had an old architectural feel to it, like something out of the 50s. The floors had a horrendous tiled pattern and the walls' pale green colours had faded into something ghastly.

Shuffling caught her attention and Therese turned to see a small, old lady with thick framed glasses in the doorway of the office. Though she looked just as ghastly as the school's design, she had a peppy smile on her face.

"Welcome, Theresa," she began. Therese's own smile faltered a little but she couldn't be bothered to correct her new colleague. Robichek, or Ruby as she introduced herself, gave Therese a tour of the small but well-regarded school.

"Now, you've got it easy, Theresa dear. You'll just need to be here everyday after school, no need for those 8am calls! Hah!"

Therese zoned out a bit as she watched the janitors and teachers bustle about the school, preparing for the new year and welcoming all the kids. Teachers with boxes filled with notebooks and markers. Desks being shuffled around and moved. The janitors cleaning the windows and floors thoroughly, making the tiles shine so brightly it gave Therese a headache.

"Here we are," Ruby suddenly piped up, entering a small classroom. Therese did a full turn once inside, noting the sink at the back of the room, handy, she thought. A selection of about 20 seemingly unused easels were propped up against the far wall, making Therese's hands itch with excitement.

"Now, usually this is Mr. Tucker's classroom. After 3pm, you've got it for yourself. You won't be allowed to move or touch his desk, but do whatever you like with the rest of the set up, as long as you move it back at the end of the day."

"What does Mr. Tucker teach?"

"Hm? Oh, during the school day he teaches the eighth graders, mainly. He's also coach and teaches gym, so he barely uses this room for his own things; that's what the gym office is for."

Therese wandered around the room for a bit, wondering if she was invading someone's space by being here. But no, she was only playing babysitter for kids after school. Administration insisted it still needed a curricular focus, according to Ruby, that's why they wanted an art-focused program rather than just letting kids waste their time for an hour or two.

"Between you and me, I think they're also doing it so they can cut some of the art funding during the regular day. This is technically outside of school hours so they don't have to worry about it, but they still count it as the curriculum being met," Ruby scoffed. Therese hummed in response, knowing how little arts were appreciated in schools nowadays, especially for younger years.

"Well, I think that's it, my dear! There's room in the teacher's lounge for your things once you start tomorrow. You needn't worry about taking up anyone's space, so do what you like."

"Thank you, Mrs. Robichek."

"Not a problem."

"Can I ask one question though? Where are all the art supplies?"

"Ah, that. Well. You see, I'm afraid this is as much as you're gonna get. It's an art club, Miss Belivet. The school board isn't going to be buying supplies for you."

With that, Mrs. Robichek walked out, leaving Therese to her own devices. She wandered about, checking the drawers in the cabinets and by the sink. A box of broken crayons and old Crayola markers was all she found. Some scissors, half a pack of construction paper, a couple glue sticks... The only real asset were the easels at the back of the room. Someone probably funded those with good intention, but no one seemed interested to use them properly.

As she crouched by the sink, rummaging through the last few piles of flimsy paper and boxes, the door opened. In walked a beanpole of a man- thin glasses framing his beady eyes. He was dressed in a suit that seemed to hang off of his body, old and boring in every way. He had a box in hand that he set on the desk before noticing Therese at the other end of the room.

"Who are you?" he asked immediately. This, Therese assumed, was Mr. Tucker.

"Oh, hello, Mr. Tucker. I'm Therese Belivet, I'm-,"

"The new art teacher, yes I know. I suppose we're sharing this classroom for the year, hm?"

Therese nodded bleakly as she got up, a forgotten glue stick in hand.

"I'll have you know I have a very strict way with my things, Miss Belivet. I will not allow you to move anything off of my desk. This need for art after school nonsense is ridiculous in my opinion, but I will mostly be in my separate office by the gym. Do what you like with those things," he nodded to the easels, "but don't make a mess of my classroom."

Therese was stumped by the man's arrogance and haughty behaviour so she clasped her hands in front of her instinctively, like she was a student back at boarding school. "Of course, sir."

He gave her a pointed look, not moving from his spot. Understanding the cue, Therese hurried out the classroom as fast as her feet would carry her.

God, what a weasel of a man, she thought, taking a breather as she headed back to the main office. She wouldn't be needed until 3pm the next day, which opened up her mornings nicely. She waved goodbye to the receptionist, who she learned was named Patricia, and walked out in the late summer evening air.

Therese hurried to get a cab, texting Dannie on her way back to her apartment.

met 3 new colleagues today. 1/3 was actually bearable

Dannie replied within a few minutes.

no shit, eh? what are they like?

receptionist is nice, does her job and didn't ask any questions. this one other lady teacher seems to be like everyone's overbearing grandma (good thing she teaches kindergarten i guess??) oh and the last guy seems like a total creep- really uptight

what does he teach?

gym. he's the coach of whatever teams they can even have here. it's such a small school.

damn, he's not ripped is he? if he creeps you again i could take him down, maybe.

lol nah he's a stick more than anything. doesn't seem to like me, or art for that matter. i have to share a classroom with him.

bummer. maybe paint the walls a sick fluorescent magenta? that might send him a message. kids would enjoy it too

Therese snorted at her phone, though the message gave her an idea. She hastily sent a reply to Dannie before directing the cab to the nearest art supply store.

A/N: Two updates in one day. I couldn’t help myself :3 Hope you like it folks. It won’t be long until our two leading ladies meet, I promise.

#carol #carol aird #carol movie #carol fanfiction #carol x therese #therese belivet #cate blanchett #rooney mara #sarah paulson #The Price of Salt #patricia highsmith #carol 2015 #wlw #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqia #merry writes

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saundraswriting · 3 years

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Deprived Chapter 3: Fateful Decision

SUMMARY: Yeon-Woo makes a heavy decision that changes not only his life but Yoo-Han's as well. Yoo-Han refuses to take the consequences of Yeon-Woo's decision laying down. He knows that Yeon-Woo made his choice but he didn't have all the facts before he made it, soo Yoo-Han makes the decision to not let him go. NOTES: This is getting into au territory, pulling away from the canon story line here. WARNINGS: non graphic suicide attempt by hanging proceed with caution, normal warnings for the canon universe, intrusive thoughts, self-depreciation, ect.

Read it on Ao3

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist // My Masterlist // My Ao3

The next morning dawned bright and sunny, if a bit cold. Yeon-Woo snuggled deeper into his bed before hitting the alarm on his phone. He stared at the date and time like it offended him. He wasn't ready to get out of bed, he wanted to ruminate over yesterday's event for a little longer. The images of the art show and the warmth from Yoo-Han's dinner and the affection from the bath swirled in his head, making him smile into his pillow. 'I should get up, it is a school day. Yoo-Han might want breakfast too.'Yeon-Woo thought. He blinked and sat up throwing the blankets off of himself and looking at the futon on the floor. That was empty.

"Good Morning, love. I wanted to know if you wanted breakfast? If you don't that is okay, I made you some just in case." Yoo-Han said from the doorway before Yeon-Woo's thoughts could spiral.

"I don't know. I usually don't have much of an appetite in the mornings. I usually wait until dinner to eat most days." Yeon-Woo could tell by the slight muffling of his voice, Yoo-Han had his mask on and Yeon-Woo wasn't sure if that was or wasn't what he wanted. Yoo-Han nodded, remembering their discussion from yesterday.

"Okay, I won't push breakfast. But I will make you lunch today, and we'll eat together. I can show you my face, maybe that will help. I am afraid you'll wither into nothing if I don't intervene." Yoo-Han said laughing as he turned back to go to the kitchen.

Yeon-Woo began getting ready, his silent promise ringing in his ears. 'How am I to push you away when you are so good to me?'The two boys got ready for school, Yoo-Han unapologetically using Yeon-Woo's toothbrush when he wasn't looking.

"We might want to get there a bit early today, Joo-Haeng has both our bags, and I certainly didn't do any homework yesterday. I need to make sure my grades don't fall. I would rather my aunt not be disappointed in me any more than she already is." Yeon-Woo spoke quietly obviously not wanting to be heard. Yoo-Han grew more apprehensive and angry towards this nameless aunt who dare traumatize his sweet boy. Yoo-Han agreed with getting to school early, not wanting to upset Yeon-Woo by dismissing his aunt's neglect or abuse. They hurried to school and met up with Joo-Haeng and Min-Jae getting their things and working quickly on the homework, copying what they couldn't figure out between classes. It was a busy morning for them both but when Min-Jae commented on their evening they couldn't do more than stutter out responses and blush.

"It was uh great. I uh I" Yoo-Han was able to get a full sentence out. Yeon-Woo could only blush from his neck to his ear and make noises that sounded like he had a good time.

"That well huh? I am glad. You needed to have some fun. You've been mopey for a few days now." Joo-Haeng said, poking him in the cheek. Yeon-Woo's blush came back with a vengeance. "Dude, I could cook and egg on your face right now. Just hurry up. Some of changes classes before lunch."

The next couple weeks pass in similar fashion. Yeon-Woo goes to school, spends time with his friends. 'I have friends, I shouldn't be greedy and ask for anything else. Yoo-Han has been taking such great care of me, I shouldn't push mine or his luck.' Yeon-Woo thought. Yoo-Han hadn't much time lately for color lessons or even time with him, his kpop group was getting ready to debut apparently. Yoo-Han had warned him well in advance that the upcoming week would be spent training and testing to make sure he was fit to continue. Yeon-Woo told Yoo-Han every time he brought it up that he was proud of him and that he didn't mind, he should focus on his future, dismissing his own worth to Yoo-Han. Yoo-Han's face would get tense and eye grew dark when he said things like that.

The distance was just what Yeon-Woo needed. He hadn't forgotten his silent promise to Yoo-Han, that he would protect him from everything including himself. Yeon-Woo was aware of how much he loved Yoo-Han. He felt it with ever breath in his lungs and every beat of his heart. He loved his probe, the boy who taught him colors, how to love, who taught him to see that he deserved the most simplest of things, even when he didn't believe it. The distance helped him begin his plan, He knew that Yoo-Han would debut, they had talked about it. Yoo-Han was the top of his training class and was expected to debut, Yeon-Woo was determined not to pull him away from that. Yoo-Han's future was staring him in the face, he was going to light up so many people's lives and Yeon-Woo refused to be selfish about it anymore. He had gathered the tools he needed long ago, just wasn't sure what his plan was yet.

"Yoo-Han's gone? For the week? Already?" Min-Jae asked during lunch. The three of them were sitting inside together, the rain dampening their moods. Yoo-Han had asked their friends to keep and eye on Yeon-Woo and let him know if anything was amiss with him. Yoo-Han tried to skirt around the monochromatic vision leading to appetite issues and even mood changes and lack of sleep.

"Yeah. He's been gone for a couple days already. He'll be back before we miss him." Joo-Haeng wanted to ease the slouch in his friend's shoulder but wasn't sure how.

"I am proud of him. I am glad he gets to do what he dreams about." Yeon-Woo said. He stared at his food not eating, sadness weighing his words down, dropping them into a low pitch. "He'll bring light to so many people." Yeon-Woo continued almost too quietly to be heard. "Better people than me. I'll hold him back." Min-Jae and Joo-Haeng heard him, there were too close to miss it. They wanted to ask Yeon-Woo what he meant but that second, the bell rang, ending lunch.

Yeon-Woo packed his uneaten lunch, and began to get ready for class. Joo-Haeng shot a quick text off to Yoo-Han He thinks you will find someone better for you then him.. Min-Jae packed away his and Joo-Haeng's bento (Grandfather told him he would need a spare that day).

Lunch the next day was an even worse affair. Yeon-Woo was completely silent, and didn't even pull out his lunch, there was a glassiness to his eyes and his skin looked tight and pale. Joo-Haeng knew he hadn't been sleeping or eating but didn't know how to help his friend. Thee text they just got didn't help either.

The results aren't clear for the lower level trainees. They want us here another week, to be supportive of our classmates. Fantastic. I will see you in a week. Yoo-Han had texted them. H sent another one to Yeon-Woo. My precious Yeon-Woo, I will try to sneak away to come see you soon. I promise.

Min-Jae tried to cheer him up "He'll be back soon. A couple more days, okay?"

"If I kidnap him, he can't leave me. He'll stay with me and only me forever." Yeon-Woo was staring out the window, his mind obviously miles away. Joo-Haeng sent a text back, He just said he wants to kidnap you so you never leave.

Yeon-Woo blinked and realized what he said, his face blanching and horror crossing his face. "I didn't mean-I would never-I-I." He slammed his jaw shut, hands clapping over his mouth. A small whimper broke loose. "I am a monster. I don't deserve to live." With that Yeon-Woo gathered his things and bolted out the door, not heeding the protests of his friends. Joo-Haeng sent another text. I think you might need to come see him. He just ran off.

Yeon-Woo raced off school property, his head swimming. 'I can't be around him anymore. I am a monster. I don't deserve Yoo-Han. He needs to be set free of his burden of me. I will protect him, no matter what.' Yeon-Woo walked home, barely paying attention to his surroundings, trying to think. He could transfer but Yoo-Han wasn't the type to take his disappearance laying down, so he would need to move too. 'Aunt Yi-Rang will be so furious with me. Maybe I should just vanish. She won't care I go missing or even turn up dead.'Yeon-Woo froze mid step. 'Dead. If I am dead then there is no way I would be a danger to Yoo-Han.' Yeon-Woo began trekking back to his home, thinking of the proper suicide methodology, he didn't have a gun, or a large enough knife to cut his wrists, he could buy some medication and overdose, but that wasn't full proof. He walked by his local hardware store and decided on hanging. It would be his best option. He stepped in and bought the necessary supplies. When he got home he started setting up everything, Yeon-Woo decided that the best way to do this was to practice first to make sure he knew how to hang himself. He also planned to do it in three days. That would give him time to make sure it went well and go to school, lowering the guard of his friends, and record his messages. He didn't want to go without saying good bye. He wasn't that cruel. He opened his phone's browser and began practicing how to tie a noose.

The next day at school Yeon-Woo apologized to his friends for worrying them. He cited lack of sleep and missing Yoo-Han for his outburst. He made it through several of his classes but after their first break he decided to sit in the unused stairwell he and Yoo-Han lingered. He was listening to music, staring at the opposite wall when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked over and saw Yoo-Han, pretty as ever. Yeon-Woo was almost breathless from how much his missed his probe. He reached out to pull him close but hesitated, his thoughts going back to what he said yesterday. He pulled his hand back, a broken look on his face.

"Yeon-Woo. darling. Joo-Haeng told me you haven't been doing well. I snuck out to visit you!" Yoo-Han sat down pressing his leg into Yeon-Woo's.

Yeon-Woo if anything looked worse at his admission. "No! You shouldn't sneak out. Your future depends on you doing well right now. You should risk it on something silly like seeing me, just cause I missed you. I am not worth throwing your future away over." Yoo-Han blinked at the self-depreciation. He thought that together Yeon-Woo was getting over his self esteem issues.

"Yeon-Woo, you are very important to me. If you miss me and need to see me, or are having a bad time over something, then I don't care what I am doing. I want to see you. I want to help you. You are the most important thing to me, hands down. So you want to talk about what is going on?" Yoo-Han turned to face Yeon-Woo on the bench they shared. Yoo-Han wanted to reach out and touch but wasn't sure it would be welcomed.

"No. I don't. I really don't." Yeon-Woo looked at him for the first time since he arrived. "Is caramel a shade of brown?" He was staring directly into Yoo-Han's eyes. Yoo-Han could see the color rush in his eyes but Yeon-Woo had no visible reaction, he was adapting well. Yoo-Han regretted not wearing his mask to hid his blush.

"Yes. Would you like to hear more about brown? While I am here?" Yoo-Han asked. He noticed the flinch at his choice of words but didn't want to harp on what Yeon-Woo wouldn't talk about. Yeon-Woo nodded, shifting to get comfortable on the bench, staring intently at Yoo-Han as he began rattling off shades sometimes offering explanations when he could remember them.

They sat there for near an hour when Yoo-Han finally ran out of things to talk about revolving the color brown. "Sorry, dearest, that is all I have on the color brown. Wasn't much for brown isn't a fun color to most people." Yoo-Han stood up holding out a hand for Yeon-Woo to grab. "Come on. Let me treat you to lunch or something. I have three more days before I am free for a while, I want to spend as much time together as we can." Yoo-Han continued.

"Me too. Let's get something to eat. Then can we stop by an arcade? I have always wanted to see the games all lit up." Yeon-Woo knew it was a bad idea to make such a selfish request but he couldn't help it. He wanted one more day, on more memory to cherish with Yoo-Han.

"Of course, sweetie. We can go right now. I'll let Joo-Haeng what is going on." Yoo-Han wiggled his fingers and Yeon-Woo was helpless to resist. He reached his hand out, his shirt sleeve slipping down to show the rope burn on his wrist. Yoo-Han pulled his wrist closer, fury making his face cold and sharp.

"Yeon-Woo, what happened? Did someone do this to you? Is you aunt abusing you?" Yoo-Han fired off questions almost too fast.

"No! It is fine. Nothing happened. I'm fine. My aunt isn't even home. Don't worry." Yeon-Woo said. He grabbed Yoo-Han's hand, laced their fingers together. Then they snuck out of school onto a bus, heading for downtown. Yoo-Han lost his angry look but couldn't shake the concern in his eyes or the worry in his veins the rest of the day. He was sure Yeon-Woo was up to something and he was scared to find out what.

Four days later Yeon-Woo sat in front of his table full of tools for his future suicide, staring at the photo strip in his hand. The day at the arcade had been more than Yeon-Woo could have dreamed. The colors were bight and whimsical and lovely. There were a few people that had seen the recent news of his possible debut asking for a minute of his time, it had only solidified his decision more. He was currently thinking of scripts for his messages while perfecting his noose. He was sure he got it all worked out, what he was going to say to each person. To his friends, the only real friends he had, Yeon-Woo wrote heartfelt thank you's for supporting him with both his monochromatic vision and his relationship with Yoo-Han. To his Aunt, he wrote a long winded apology, not sure how to apologize for taking the last of her family but their distance made it hard to record his thoughts. Yoo-Han was the hardest and longest message. Yeon-Woo wasn't sure what he should and should not say, but he didn't want Yoo-Han to misunderstand anything so he rambled.

"Yoo-Han, My lovely precious Yoo-Han. I am so glad I met you. I would suffer everything all over again if it meant that we would meet. I was no one before you. I had no reason to live but no reason to die either. I spend my days in a grayscale world. A grayscale world that seeped into my bones, into my mind, into my soul. I was a phantom. I was okay with that, I never desired more. Or rather I never knew I desired more, until you came along. You with your caramel eyes and pink lips and black hair. You came along with your gentle hands and warm heart and loving soul. You came along and showed me what it is like to be loved, something I will never be able to thank you enough for. But we are too different. You who shines like the sun, bringing light and color into everyone's lives not only mine. You are destined for things much bigger than me. I refuse to be the thing that ruins that. You need to move on, accept that you will one day have the world at your fingertips, once you find it. I am nothing but darkness and shadows and sadness. I already take up too much of your life and space, and I am still greedy for more. There is a monster in your life. I want to protect you from all the monsters in your life. I will protect you from the monster, even if that monster is me." Yeon-Woo's voice broke, a sob slipped past his clenched teeth. He continued, voice thick. "Do you understand now? Yoo-Han, I love you. I love you and I refuse to be what ruins you. I am leaving and I am taking the monster with me. I want to say I am sorry, and I am that it had to be this way, but I will never be sorry for saving you." Yeon-Woo turned off the recording. There was nothing more to say.

Yeon-Woo stood on the tallest stool he could find, tying the noose with shaking hands, breaths coming in sharp pants. He gave a quick tug to assure he did it right. He looked around, making sure he had everything right and how he wanted it. He stepped onto the stool, the pictures from the arcade in his hand, to be the last thing he would look at before he died. He slipped the noose over his head, tears dripping off his chin. He took a deep breath, trying to gather his nerve trying to ignore his sore, battered heart crying out 'Yoo-Han. Yoo-Han. Please. Yoo-Han will make everything better.'. Yeon-Woo ignored his heart, this was the only way. He had to protect Yoo-Han. He closed his eyes, too focused on what he was doing to hear the door open behind him. He took one more breath and stepped off the stool. The echo of "NO!" rattling around his brain and the apartment. Then nothing.

Yoo-Han knew something was up with Yeon-Woo. Yoo-Han hadn't been around much the last few weeks, his debut test taking up a lot of his time but he was trying. He called and texted Yeon-Woo as much as he could, but the stiff almost unwelcoming replies. Yoo-Han was glad he had asked Min-Jae Joo-Haeng to keep an eye on his mono. He was worried without him around Yeon-Woo would spiral into a depressive state or worse. His concern was founded when he began receiving the texts from Joo-Haeng, Yeon-Woo was spiraling and badly it seemed. Yoo-Han knew that with his mono's inner demons were getting to him when they told him he planned to kidnap him. Yoo-Han slipped away, deeming his mono more important than his debut. He met him in their stairwell, the lack of enthusiasm was unsettling but affirming. Something was wrong and Yoo-Han swore he would fix it.

Yoo-Han blinked at the random color question, it had been a while since Yeon-Woo asked to listen to him ramble about colors. The facts he only learned to appease Yeon-Woo's curiosity. He watched as Yeon-Woo attention drifted more and more inward, Yoo-Han felt a anger in him. 'How dare his attention waver from me. I am all he should be thinking about right now.' Yoo-Han's lecture tampered off He needed to get that attention back on him. Needed to see his eyes focused only on him, so he lied. He wasn't free but Yeon-Woo didn't need to know that right now. He didn't like Yeon-Woo's lack of attention or his listlessness, maybe a quick date wouldn't be amiss.

At least that is what he thought until he saw the rope burn on Yeon-Woo's arm. He knew what that was, all the signs clicked almost instantly. Yeon-Woo was planning something, something bad. 'Call it a soulmate's intuition but I don't think he should be left alone right now. Whatever he is, isn't fine. Yoo-Han gave easily into Yeon-Woo's arcade request, needing the time to figure out a plan. Yoo-Han spent the date, happy but secretly scheming, He had spent enough time with Yeon-Woo to know that his "I'm fine" was a platitude, designed to turn people's focus away.

The date ended. Both in possession of a photo strip and pleasant memories. Yeon-Woo's smile was a little bit more genuine and eyes a little brighter. Yoo-Han felt that maybe the day was enough to push away the bad thoughts for the next few days.

Yoo-Han woke up late on his first day away from debut testing in two weeks, late for school and unable to care. He looked at his texts to see Joo-Haeng's latest report on an absent Yeon-Woo. He felt like a bucket of cold water was dumped down his spine. Yoo-Han didn't waste another second before getting dressed and racing through his house, ignoring several calls from the servants and his family. He ran straight to the train and then the bus, praying he wasn't too late.

He got to Yeon-Woo's front door, spare key from the nearby potted plant in hand and fingers shakily putting in the alarm code. Yoo-Han scanned the first floor, walking deeper into the home. He heard Yeon-Woo talking but couldn't hear him over the blood rushing in his ears. Yeon-Woo was standing on a stool, slipping his neck into a noose, tears dripping down his face. Yoo-Han could see his eyes were shut tightly and he was trying to calm his breathing. Yeon-Woo was still on the stool, Yoo-Han was speechless on the ground. Until Yeon-Woo seemed to find the strength he was looking for, stepped off the stool.

"NO!" Yoo-Han screamed darting forward. There was something wrong with the noose, it didn't break his neck, but was slowly strangling Yeon-Woo. Yoo-Han grabbed his flailing legs lifting him to remove the tension. He carefully felt with his toes for the stool, standing on it while holding Yeon-Woo. Yeon-Woo began coughing and crying, breaths coming in gasps. He was shaking violently in Yoo-Han's arms. Yoo-Han could feel noises were coming out of his throat but had no idea what they were. Silently Yoo-Han thanked every deity in every religion for being able to get here and actually be able to help prevent something that would have shattered him completely. Yoo-Han raised on hand sliding the noose off of Yeon-Woo. Yeon-Woo had grown quiet, whimpering in the back of his throat, fingers clenching onto Yoo-Han.

"Yoo-Han. I'm so sorry. Yoo-Han." Yeon-Woo kept repeating, his voice thick with tears, shaking like a leaf.

"My Yeon-Woo. My love. you're okay. I'm right here. Everything is fine. Hush, love. You're okay." Yoo-Han stayed on the stool, holding Yeon-Woo as tightly as he was him. 'I almost lost you. Another second and you would have been gone.'The thought itself was enough to make him shake. "I'm gonna get down. I have you. We'll go to you room. We can talk later. Let me take care of you, sweetheart." Yoo-Han kept murmuring sweet nothings as he carried Yeon-Woo to his bedroom. Yoo-Han pulled the covers down, gently placing Yeon-Woo on the mattress, before climbing in with him.

Yeon-Woo woke up a long while later. He blinked at his ceiling, trying to think as to why that was so strange to see. Then it all came back. 'Oh, that's right, Yoo-Han saved me from trying to kill myself.' Yeon-Woo felt shame and despair surge through him, Yoo-Han had seen him at his lowest point. He had seen his failed suicide attempt, it wouldn't be long before Yoo-Han left him, seeing how much of a mess he was.

"Yoo-Han. Where are you? I mi-miss you." Yeon-Woo cried. He curled up around his pillow, sobs breaking out of his chest, all the fear and sorrow and shame coming forth. Yeon-Woo kept crying violently. He trembling becoming full tremors, breaths coming too quick and shallow. "Yoo-Han. I'm Sorry. Don't leave me. Please. Please come back." Yeon-Woo was too deep into his panic to notice Yoo-Han coming into the room. He had laid in bed with Yeon-Woo until he fell asleep proper then he got up and began to clean up. He disposed of everything that was related to Yeon-Woo's failed attempt. Yoo-Han had listened to the message that Yeon-Woo had left for him, and by the end, he was in tears, heartbreak splitting his chest in two. He knew that Yeon-Woo had a lot of issues stemming from society and his aunt but he didn't realize it would lead to this, considering himself a monster. Yoo-Han demolished the small recording device with relish. He got rid of everything, not wanting a single reminder of what happened. Once he was done he returned to Yeon-Woo who was in the middle of another panic attack.

Yoo-Han climbed into bed, soothing his distraught mono with words and touches. Yeon-Woo sunk into Yoo-Han's familiar embrace which only made him cry harder. "I am sorry. Yoo-Han. Yoo-Han. I'm sorry. Don't leave me. Please. Never leave me."

"Never. I'll never leave you, sweetheart. I will never leave you. I'm right here. It's okay. Let it out." Yoo-Han rubbed his back, trying to calm Yeon-Woo down. He didn't need him to hyperventilate and pass out. Yoo-Han continued soothing the broken boy in his arms until he cried himself out.

"Yeon-Woo, I am so glad I got to you in time. I would never have forgiven myself. I am not mad, or disappointed, but I am worried. Please, just tell me what were you thinking? What would make you take yourself away from me? Don't you get it? You are mine for ever and for always. I will follow wherever you lead. Nothing can take you from me. I love you. I. Love. You. Yeon-Woo. My Mono. My soulmate."

Yeon-Woo flushed red from his words. The tears were gone but the shakes lingered in his fingers as he gripped Yoo-Han's shirt. "I love you too. So much. Maybe even too much. I was possessive over you, I don't like not seeing you. Then everyone was getting excited about your debut and I couldn't stomach that thought that they believed they were entitled to you. Then I realized that you will always shine too brightly for just me. I didn't want my possessiveness to be what takes you from people who had worlds that you brightened. You are like the sun, I didn't want to be the clouds. I decided that my existence was a threat to you and everyone else. Who was I to think I owned you? You aren't a possession I should be fighting over." Yeon-Woo stopped, hiding in Yoo-Han's chest.

"Yeon-Woo is so good to me. Good boy, wanting to share his things even when he doesn't have to. I am and will always be yours. You will never need to worry." Yoo-Han pressed a soft kiss to Yeon-Woo's temple. "You didn't need to go to such extremes, love. I am sorry that you felt you had to."

"I wanted to protect you. I wanted to keep you safe. I am a monster." Yeon-Woo trembling was getting worse.

"If wanting to keep your soulmate close means you are a monster, if not wanting to share the person who means the most to you is a monster, then I am a monster too. Nothing you are feeling is bad. We are meant to be, love." Yoo-Han's words seemed to strike a chord in Yeon-Woo. "Come on, I got us lunch and then I planned a trip for us. I think some time away wouldn't be a bad idea. You and I both deserve a vacation." Yoo-Han pulled Yeon-Woo up out of bed and into the dining room.

"You cleaned up?" Yeon-Woo looked at him in awe.

"Of course, darling. I will never let that happen again. You are mine to take care of and to love. If you feel like that again, then I am doing something wrong." Yoo-Han said while dishing out their take out he bought. He had called his home and training program to let them know he would be taking a few days off, not wanting to worry anyone. He even used Yeon-Woo's phone to text his Aunt that a 'friend' was taking a beach trip and invited him along. Yoo-Han knew that his Aunt knew he had friends but didn't know if she knew about him and being Yeon-Woo's probe.

After lunch, they both took a bath. Yoo-Han used his large allowance to book a hotel for two nights and the bus tickets they would need. He borrowed some of Yeon-Woo's clothes to pack and then when the time came, he all but shoved Yeon-Woo out the door.

The hotel was modest but nice, Yoo-Han booked them a single queen bed to share. They had arrived a bit to late to go to the beach but Yeon-Woo was tired and argued and early night meant early day which meant longer time at the beach. Yoo-Han laughed and submitted to the logic. The two curled up on the bed in a tangle of limbs. The closeness doing a lot to ease the fears resting in Yeon-Woo's head. Yoo-Han wasn't going to leave him, not now not ever. The stayed up for a while talking about anything they could think of.

"Yoo-Han, I am sorry. I really am." Yeon-Woo whispered. "I can't help that I sometimes think little of myself. I think that some professional help wouldn't be amiss. I want to be better, I don't want to go through this again. I don't want to put you through this again. I was hasty and scared and blind. I just wanted you safe, I have been told for so long that I am dangerous and I deserve to be alone, and I guess if you are told something enough, eventually you believe it." Yeon-Woo was talking to Yoo-Han's chest, unable to face him. Yoo-Han could crush him into a million pieces with his answer and Yeon-Woo wouldn't be able to look at his face if he did.

"I am so proud of you. I know that this morning was rough, and I know I spirited you out of the house spur of the moment, but this is why. I wanted you have space to think. If you want to look for a therapist, I would love to support you. You are so good and soft and loving not only to me but your friends too. You aren't the monster you were taught you are. One day you'll believe that too. Now, let's go to bed, WE have a big day tomorrow." Yoo-Han pulled Yeon-Woo closer and together they fell asleep.

In the pre-dawn light of the next morning, the two boys were cuddled with a blanket on the beach, watching the sunrise. Yeon-Woo had been in a color rush since they woke up. The familiar swirls of color and look on Yoo-Han's face were grounding to him as never before. They sat while Yoo-Han explained the morning colors and how the sun's angle to the horizon caused the different colors. Once the sun rose, they went to breakfast.

"Yeon-Woo, do you want to know why I was so demanding when it came to giving you color lessons in the beginning?" Yoo-Han was sipping tea, watching Yeon-Woo eat with gusto.

"I wondered. I never really felt the urge to ask though." Yeon-Woo held up a forkful of food, trying to feed Yoo-Han.

"I have facial blindness. I can't distinguish faces at all. I can only se yours with every detail, every expression, every mark. I could see some of your mom's face cause some of her is in you. I have to use other means to tell people apart. their scent, or hairstyle or which buttons they leave undone." Yoo-Han continued to drink his tea, eating slowly. "So when I say we are meant for each other, I mean it. I could never be without you. I refuse to be. Do you understand, what I am saying? I am never going to leave. You will never be without me. I am yours for ever and for always." Yoo-Han looked up when the other side of the table went quiet.

"That is why you think I am pretty? Cause you haven't seen anyone else?" Yeon-Woo looked crumpled, like his strings had been cut. Yoo-Han felt the panic well up inside of him.

"No. That is not what I mean. I think you are pretty because you are. Your smile is the brightest thing I have ever seen, you outshine the sun the moon and the stars, love. I want you to understand, that you show me what it is to be human. I have never seen someone's face when they smile, let alone the awe of seeing a rainbow or the stunned look when they see something they have never seen before. I taught you colors originally because I had never seen someone's face at all, then your face when in a color rush, or seeing colors sated my greed. Then I began to fall in love with you, always trying to help Min-Jae or Joo-Haeng, reading quietly, or listening to music, I was able to see the love you hold for everything for everyone. I learned what it meant to love someone and I refuse to lose that. You are mine, I will never let you go." Yoo-Han looked up to see Yeon-Woo silently crying, hands covering his mouth.

"I love you, Yoo-Han. I never knew that you could see that when you looked at someone. You showed me what affection and love are supposed to look like. You gave me friends, and helped me learn that I am fine the way I am, I am not a thing meant to be shunned from society and I can be who ever I want." Yeon-Woo grabbed Yoo-Han's hand across the table. "I love you. Thank you for loving me." Yoo-Han was speechless, he opened and closed his mouth a few times until he found his voice.

"Loving you is both easy and a honor. Now, how about we go sit on the beach some more, The ocean is really pretty once the sun comes up." Yoo-Han got up to pay. Together they found a nice spot, and Yeon-Woo settled in, Yoo-Han leaving for a few minutes to go get "another surprise". As he put it.

When he came back it was mid-afternoon and Yeon-Woo curiosity outweighed his concern. "Yoo-Han? You were gone a long time. What were you looking for?"

"In a minute. I want you to think about what we said this morning. I told you for ever and for always. I want you to know I mean it, so I got us..." Yoo-Han fidgeted with something in his pocket trailing off. Yeon-Woo blinked, Yoo-Han was never unsure about anything. He went in with all the swagger and bravado he could muster, even if it was fake. "I got us promise rings. I wanted something tangible from today. For us. I even got them engraved. That is what too so long." Yoo-Han held up a silver band with a very small blue gem and with shaking fingers, Yeon-Woo took it looking at the engraving For ever, for always, for you.Yeon-Woo blinked back tears handing it back.

"Well then, best you do it right the first time." Yeon-Woo held up his left hand, a bright grin on his face. Yoo-Han slipped it on his fourth finger and kissed his fingers.

"I love you." They chorused. Laughing and smiling they snuggled close on the blanket.

"Yoo-Han, tell me about the ocean." Yeon-Woo asked. Yoo-Han looked down and unable to resist pressed a kiss to Yeon-Woo's lips. The red blush on his cheeks made a thrill go down his spine.

Anything for you, my love, anything for you." Yoo-Han began pointing to the different shades of blue they could see, knowing that Yeon-Woo was listening intently even if he was too busy hiding his face in Yoo-Han's shoulder until the blush went down.

#saundrasays #saundraswriting #color rush #yoo han x yeon woo #color rush au #bucky barnes fanfiction

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sweetestlamb · 4 years

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It Will Rain

Summary: Gang-tae is finally honest and has a realization about his relationship with Mun-yeong.

Author’s note: This story is coming to an end and honestly I’m very happy it has been very hard to tap into these emotions for both of them, their self-deprecation just wraps around me even after I’m done writing. But this was also very cathartic and I am happy that I wrote it, this was one of my only issues with the show and I know a lot of people excuse and accept GT’s behavior and that’s your right but I couldn’t do the same and I finished the series still yearning for a real apology so this story has done that for me. Provided more closure. Anyway, there is only one chapter left hope you all enjoyed!

She's gone.

He goes through the ceaseless motions of life, robotic and mechanical, going to work and coming home like he's living in a washing machine; spinning around and around in violent circles.

But endlessly his mind spasms every second as he remembers that she's gone and he has no idea where exactly she might be.

Sang-in refuses to speak to him, exiting any space that he enters and his frustration melts away as he realizes that her disappearance is not solely impacting him, the manager looks haggard as well, dark circles sunken deep like craters on a surface.

His thumbs twinge with malignant pain from his extensive messages to her, 109 messages sent since the day he went to her empty castle, pleas and apologies easily coming now as he recognizes how badly he needs her in his life. Life without her has been colorless and dull, a black and white façade that he longs to escape from. He wants the vibrant hues that being around her splashes into his life.

All his life he's been a blank canvas and meeting her poured colors onto his skin that he never knew he needed, life was meant to be lived and up until the moment she crashed into his life, he'd merely been existing.

He's taken to eating alone, punishing himself for his hapless mistakes, he doesn't deserve to be surrounded by warmth or have a full belly when Mun-yeong is out there with no one, thinking that he doesn't care for her. That couldn't be further from the truth but he has nobody but himself to blame for that, she'd given him too many chances and each time he'd been a fool; why had he done that? Why couldn't be accept love while it was the one thing he yearned for the most?

You don't deserve to be happy. This is what you deserve. Regret and despair.

His thoughts assault him viciously poking holes through his paper thin sheet of confidence. Each day without her and unread messages breaking him down into unrecognizable pieces, his walls crumbling like a sandcastle under the lightest pressure.

"Gang-tae, why are you so sad?" His older brother's voice draws him back from the depths of his melancholy, breaking the shackles of his self deprecation.

He sits from his starfished position on the ground, meeting his brother's warm questioning eyes. Immediately a smile spreads across his face, instinct kicking in.

Sang-tae looks at him, expressionless before he sits down beside him, reaching out a hand and catching his smile before slowly pulling down the sides of his mouth.

"It's fake. It's not real, you're not happy Moon Gang-tae, that's a fake smile. Why are you smiling when you're not happy?"

He feels the dam holding in his emotions start to burst before his eyes are swimming with emotions, twin lines scorch down the smooth skin of his cheeks.

"Hyung, I made a mistake." His voice squeaks from his worn lungs, sobs now wrecking his body until he's shaking apart. "I hurt Mun-yeong and I don't know if she's going to forgive me."

Sang-tae lifts a hand hesitating minutely before laying it on his head, air soft caresses on his thick hair. He almost melts into the brotherly brush, unable to recall another instance where his brother has touched him in this manner.

"It's because you're the little brother, you're just a kid still. You have to say sorry when you hurt someone , you have to say sorry and make them happy. Mun-yeong smiles when she's with you, a smile is better than a fight."

I have fun with you. I keep smiling.

He'd been so focused on his own newfound happiness he hadn't stopped to think about her, how much they'd both smiled when they were together. Her smile had been especially gorgeous, brighter than the sun moments after their first kiss. Her lips tasted as beautiful as they looked, her joy palatable on his taste buds.

He'd crushed that happiness under his feet that day on the beach, callously throwing sharp daggers at her chest, the vision of her clutching her bruised heart forever stamped in his mind.

I might not deserve happiness but she does and I....make her happy.

With a hiccup he smiles at Sang-tae, so young at heart but wise beyond his years. His wonderful older brother.

"Thank you hyung. You're right I need to make her happy."

"Yes she's my best friend, don't make her sad anymore or I'll scold you."

He laughs for the first time in days, happiness growing in his chest like a mustard seed.

Gathering his courage he meets his brothers eyes, finally prepared to be honest about his feelings for Mun-yeong, he's tired of hiding himself from the people he cares about.

"Hyung, I...like Mun-yeong. I want to be with her and I want to make her happy all the time." His confession eases the fear and concern that has been weighing him down, his shoulders loosening as the words escape his lips.

Sang-tae sinks into himself, scratching at the raw skin between his fingers.

He reaches out to hold his hands, rendering them still. He smiles at his brother, a smile that finally reaches his eyes.

"Don't be scared hyung please, I'm still your brother and I still love you. I just care about Mun-yeong too, my heart is big enough to hold both of you. Is your heart big enough big brother? Can you let Mun-yeong in too? She needs us."

Waiting with abated breath he watches the thoughts as they run across Sang-tae's face, shifting from one emotion to the next before he can properly decipher then until his brother finally responds.

"Yes. Mun-yeong needs us. She needs a family, we can let her into our family."

His heart ripples from his brother's generosity, he never imagined this conversation going this well. He'd ruminated about talking to Sang-tae always thinking his brother wouldn't understand and once again seeing that he underestimates his brother, she'd been right he just needed to be honest.

"You need to eat Gang-tae, I came to get you. Come on let's go eat, I'm your big brother it's just job to take care of you."

He lets himself he pulled away, leaving weightless. That night sleep finds him easily, his dreams are full of her.

Helpless is the only way to describe his circumstance, for once he knows exactly what he wants and is willing to fight for it but she remains elusive, not responding to any of his messages or calls, her voicemail now filled from his persistence.

The patients are the first to notice the change in him, their watchful eyes following his very move as he does his rounds.

"Your pretty smile, it's gone."

She's right, as his days without Mun-yeong pile on he finds it impossible to even force a fake smile, for once letting his true emotion show.

It's accidental that he runs into Sang-in, literally. Colliding chest to chest on the stairs to the rooftop, the manager teeters on the edge of the step arms flailing as he tries to regain his balance. The scene is all too familiar to him as he wastes no time to reach out and grab the man by his bicep, righting him before he can tumble down the stairs.

They both look at each other with trepidation before Sang-in pulls his arm free of his hold, mouth opening before his eyes harden and he spins around, intentions clear.

Hastily he calls out, "Wait."

Sang-in halts, the lines of his shoulder sharp and unfriendly.

"Please."

That simple word loosens the tension, he watches as the shoulders lower and after two beats Sang-in pivots around.

Dark eyes look at him imploringly, his expression saying more than words ever could.

What do you want?

Latching onto the opportunity he rushes to say his peace, "I care about her. I know you think I'm selfish and all I do is hurt her."

Steel wraps around Sang-in's eyes as if he's preparing to rebuke his excuses. Ready for a fight.

"You're right. I am selfish and I've hurt her a lot. It doesn't matter what my intentions were I still hurt her and I'll never forgive myself for that."

After a pregnant pause, a sneer glides across Sang-in's smooth shaven face, "So what? You're going to leave her alone and stop making her cry? Is this you telling me that you're giving up on her so she can be happy?"

His eyes dart all over that manager's face, before he finds what he's looking for. That's not Sang-in's secret desire, beneath the sneer his lips quiver as he awaits Gang-tae's response.

It's the easiest test he's ever been given.

"No. I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to make her happy, I won't push her away." He promises with his heart in his throat.

Their eyes lock in a staring match, he hides nothing letting his emotions pour through his eyes, taking down his walls. Sang-in takes a deep breath before answering.

"Okay."

It's such a simple answer but with it he feels Sang-in's reluctant acceptance, their happiness was connected and despite his anger Sang-in couldn't deny that. The answer boosts his confidence.

He has to find her.

He's at work when he gets the message from Sang-tae, Mun-yeong text me. She sent me a picture.

He races to the staff lounge, phone precariously clutched in his hands as he looks at the message. Disbelief and relief wash over him in submerging waves, before he can maneuver his trembling hands to type out a response he gets another message.

Her face fills his phone screen and his heart as Sang-tae sends him a screenshot of her message.

I'm okay Sang-tae. Don't worry I'll be back.

Pushing aside his jealousy he devours her picture, the downward tilt of her lips doing nothing to lessen her beauty, those black orbs shining through the luminance of his phone.

Once his heartbeat slows down to a manageable rhythm he looks at the picture once more, scouring for clues and immediately his memory whorls as he takes in the door in the background.

She's gone back to where he'd finally let go.

Maybe he still has a chance.

With that though fueling his movement he runs through the door, stomping to the director's office.

Director Oh smirks at his stuttered excuse before chuckling and nodding in acquiesce, letting him leave his shift early.

He stands still in shock before confirming, "Really? I can go..?"

With a shrug the director waves him away, "Go, go I did worst things when I was young for a girl. Love makes us all a little crazy."

Blushing at how easily he's been found out, he bows low thanking the director before running out of the hospital.

As he bursts through the entrance door, a car horn catches his attention and he twists around until he finds the source.

Sang-in climbs out of the driver's seat of his rental car, walking closer until they are within arm's reach, wordlessly he tosses the keys into Gang-tae's hands, snatching the metal out of the air he looks at the manager surprise etched in very pore of his skin.

"Why?" He asks, taken a back by everyone's willingness to help him.

"Because I want her to be happy. You promised to spend your life doing that. You better keep that promise."

He hears the threat for what it is, impulsively he leaps forward wrapping the older man in a bear hug before releasing him and rushing to the car.

Sang-in's wide eyed stare causes his laughter to fill the car's small space as he pulls out of the parking lot and drives off to keep his promise.

The woman who owns the guest house grumbles when he arrives but shows him to Mun-Yeong's room and tells him that she's currently out taking one of her "soul searching walks". He waits outside, not wanting to invade too much of her space. He wants her to let him in.

Hours crawl by before the heavens open out releasing wet retribution that drowns the ground. Worry washes over him as he glances out at the road, willing her to appear and to his utmost surprise she does, materializing before him like a vision in a dream.

Her movements are unhurried despite the harsh downpour that has already soaked her, her clothes plastered to the soft curves of her body.

He watches her entranced, eyes feasting. She's here, his heart gallops giddy from her mere presence. He savors this moment of pure exuberance, knowing her well enough to acknowledge that she will not be as happy to see him.

He's right.

Her words cut him as she rages, cursing his presence and demanding that he leave her alone. She sugar-coats nothing as she rips him apart the worst part of all is that she only speaks the truth. She's not vicious or malicious, he thinks he might have preferred that, instead of this piercing honesty.

She slams the door in his face and he's reminded of him slamming the door on their relationship on the beach. He deserves this.

He slides to the ground, placing one hand on the door that separates them.

It's my turn to wait.

"I'm here for you. I need you Mun-yeong."

She stares at him blankly, vastly different from the anger she'd just exhibited at finding him slumbering on her doorstep.

Without a word she spins around, slamming the door shut in his face once more.

Eventually he goes to find the bathroom, a warm bathe soothes the chill in his bones before he's forced to put back on his still damp clothes.

When he finds his way back to her, she's standing stock still where he once was.

A closer look reveals that she is not completely still, her small shoulders are rapidly moving up and down and after a moment's pause he rushes to her, spinning her around to face him.

Her face is crumpled in wet anguish, tears gushing from her eyes as she bites her lips to contain the sobs that are aching to escape.

"Mun-yeong." He breathes out before she tumbles to the ground.

Instantly he falls with her, gathering her in his arms, she pushes him away fighting to break his barricade. He lets her go. Arms falling helplessly to his sides. His heart breaks as he watches the woman he loves fall apart, helpless again to do anything to comfort her.

"I thought you were gone. Why did you come back? I accepted that you left me, why do you keep coming back damn it!"

Her cry breaks as her body continues to shake and he can't watch this anymore, his arms and heart empty without her weight.

Mustering his last remnants of strength, he pleads, "Mun-yeong please, can I hold you? I can't stand to see you like this, please. I'm yours. I'm here for as long as you want me. I'm never going anywhere."

Her moist eyes peer into his soul, searching. Before her eyes slide shut, slowly she reaches out her arms and he bolts into the space, a space just for him. He fits perfectly.

He wraps his arms around her slight figure, engulfing her in a deep embrace, her tears soaking through the collar of his uniform.

Time slows down as she shakes in his arms, her sobs quieting down until the sounds of nature fill his ears instead. He rocks her back and forth, patting her back as she clutches on his shirt.

When the last of her cries falter off he draws away from her, her beautiful wet face blessing his eyes.

Gently he reaches out to brush the tears from her cheeks.

She blinks back at him, sniffling before sighing and looking up at the skies.

"Okay. Let's talk."

#psycho but it's okay #its okay to not be okay #its okay to not be okay fic #ko mun yeong #moon gang tae #seo ye ji #kim soo hyun #made myself cry a little #angst is so exhausting #one more chapter

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threeletterslife · 4 years

Text

14 | 143

→ previous | next

→ summary: Not to get all philosophical, but life is just a rollercoaster from start to finish. You’re happy to say that you’ve been cruisin’ at the top for a while now. Who knows when you’ll hit rock bottom again? You’ve gotta live that nice life while it lasts. It’s just the question of who will join your fun...

→ genre: 85% fluff, 10% crack, 5% angst | text!au

→ warnings: profanity

→ wordcount: 1.4k

Your heart beats wildly in your chest as you open the door. And what you see before you makes you the happiest person in the world.

"Surprise, Y/N," Jimin says quite suavely, giving you a flashy pose. It's the first time you've seen him in person after you began dating him again. Gosh, he looks better in real life.

You're unable to speak as a grin breaks from your face. You move forward to hug him, and he embraces you right back. He smells of everything you ever needed.

When you pull away from him, you're finally able to catch your voice. "Future wife, Jimin? You're so far ahead in the future," you joke, giggling. You tug Jimin into your house, savoring the feeling of his hand fitting perfectly in yours.

He laughs as he quirks an eyebrow at you. "But am I really that far ahead?"

You hum as you think. "Hm... I guess not."

"But—" Jimin holds but of your hands in his, staring deeply in your eyes. "I also want to take our time."

His words take you by surprise. "Really?"

"I don't care how long it takes, Y/N. We can get married when I'm 40 for all I care. I just don't want to take a large leap that we both can't handle."

"But you want to get married sooner or later," you say slowly, choosing your words carefully.

"I can't imagine myself with anyone else," he replies. "Seven years ago..." Jimin pauses, "we weren't ready, you know? I don't think we were ready to accept that we were great together. But now it's so obvious that we were meant to be."

You giggle. "God, that's greasy, Park." You move to embrace him and he takes you in his arms. "But what can I say? I agree."

And it's quiet for the next few minutes as both of you dwell in the silence, in each other's loving arms. You could not have imagined a better day of your life.

When you pull away from his embrace, you also break the silence. "I think..." you trail off. "I think that the one year break from our relationship helped me ruminate about who I really am as a person. I feel confident in myself. I've talked to new people, made new friends... I just... I'm in such a great place right now; especially now. I'm in a place where I can be in a healthy relationship without having an ounce of self-deprecating thoughts. I think we needed that break. And now that it's over... god, I'm so, so happy with the outcome."

Jimin's all smiles by the time you finish your train of thought. "Good. I don't regret a single thing in the past. We've been through thick and thin together, right? I think we're going to be better than ever."

"Right," you reply. "We're not restarting what we had. We're just continuing it."

"Exactly."

"143?" You look curiously at Jimin.

He laughs. Looks at you dead in the eyes as he confidently announces: "3324."

You're the happiest you've been in your whole life.

Jimin's approximately fourteen days late.

Yes, you counted. Although counting the days is more of his thing.

Not that you count his forgetfulness against him. The past fourteen days have been magical for you and Jimin. Sooner or later, the honeymoon phase of the relationship will the over, though—you haven't forgotten that, but you're going to savor it as it lasts. Besides, the honeymoon phase or not, you'll always love Jimin. And you won't doubt his love for you. Not now, and hopefully not ever.

Fourteen days. You've known this man for years. But these fourteen days uncovered so much more about him. So much more deep discussion neither you had even thought of conversing about until now. Thoughts about the imminent future. Marriage. Children. And of course, finance. Which, you argue is the best part because of all the math that is involved.

Now marriage is no longer a stupid fantasy. It's real. And it's coming.

Ever since Jimin brought up marriage fourteen days ago, it's been a fair game. He can propose to you any time; he can surprise you with a wedding ring and sweep you off your feet.

You're both ready to take the next step. It's only been fourteen days, but in reality, you've known Jimin for more than eight years. If he asked you to marry him the day he came back from his business trip, you would've said yes. He can ask now, too, and you won't hesitate with your answer.

Marriage is not the next step. It is not the answer. But it is a connection. You're finally ready to give your all into your relationship with Park Jimin. And he's been telling you every night in bed, together, that he's ready to give his all to you too.

If only he wasn't fourteen fucking days late to give you your Valentine's day gift.

"You know, I'm starting to think you forgot you promised me V-Day gifts," you pout as you put down your pencil and wordlessly admire the neat figures on your scratch paper.

Jimin laughs, setting his glasses off to the side as he sweeps his hair back. "I'm fourteen days late aren't I?"

"It's literally March. March fourth," you huff, crossing your arms. But you and Jimin both know that you're not actually mad. "Almost one in the afternoon, too. Pretty soon you'll be fifteen days late."

Jimin grins. "What time is it again?"

You roll your eyes. "It's 12:56 PM."

He pretends to ponder. "HmmMmmM... Would you like your present now?"

"Really? Why the sudden change of mind?"

"Well, I just thought to wait 'till next year January fourth wasn't the most ideal..."

You scrunch your eyebrows. "What?"

Jimin just gives you a shit-eating grin before zooming away to bring you the gifts you deserved fourteen days ago.

When he comes back, he finds you shaking your head at him.

"You cheesy idiot," you sigh. "January fourth. I reckon you were going to give me the gifts at three in the afternoon? The full 143 experience, I see."

"Well, you caught me," Jimin laughs. He stands next to your chair, leaning in to reveal a pretty black box and a fat envelope. "You're too smart to surprise, Y/N," he sighs.

"You bet I am," you giggle. "And today is March fourth. Nearly... one in the afternoon. 341. 143 backwards. Or... 143, depending on how you look at it. Shouldn't I be a detective or something?"

Jimin shakes his head. "You're too smart for me."

"Nah, I just know you really well," you counter, grinning. "Can I open my gifts?"

"Of course you can, Y/N," Jimin says. "Although you kinda already know what they are... The letter and a bracelet to match your necklace... as I promised."

You let out a giddy squeal as you attack the box first.

Then: "Oh, also I kinda got you another thing."

"Really?" you ask as you pause your box-opening. "Let me guess: a kiss?"

Jimin grins. "Not exactly." He pauses and gives you a playful shove. "Greasy, I see."

You flush, shoving him right back. "Shut up. I was trying to be greasy to predict your greasiness."

"I think I have something almost as good—or just as good...?" he trails off, flushing violently.

"Get on with it, Jimin. I'll be the judge of that."

"Well..." he smiles sheepishly. "I... I got you a matching ring."

"You... what."

"I got you a diamond ring that matches the bracelet in that box... and that necklace I got you a month ago."

You scream so loudly that you probably burst Jimin's eardrums.

And when he officially gets down on his knees to propose to you, you're shaking so hard that Jimin has to take a moment to ask you if you need some warm water and a blanket. But you brush off his worries, scream "YES!" And bring him in for a kiss. He slips the diamond ring on your finger and embraces you as he passionately kisses you.

Fourteen days late. But definitely worth the wait.

#jimin #park jimin #jimin fanfiction #jimin imagine #bts #bts fanfiction #jimin fluff #jimin crack #jimin angst #text au #143

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curious-minx · 3 years

Text

Denis Leary is making an animated vignette series based on Dogs Playing Poker and 10 Other Pieces of Kitsch Art That Should Be Turned Into TV

KITSCH auction house tremors and stampedes.

Dennis Leary basically discovered sex, drugs and rock n’ roll with his 2015 two season FX series Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll. Leary’s always been one of those guys that can’t be beaten down in spite of how dopey and cynical his edgy working class personal brand is. He’s got an entire deal set up with Fox, the flailing broadcasting company has placed all of their chips on a Denis with only one lousy “N” in his name. I can’t even with this fake Irish Bostonian droid. Relish in the delicate thought process of Leary and leftover former Daily Show producer, Jim Margolis, bringing up a Pinterest screen grab of the Dogs Playing Poker by Grand Master of Kitsch Cassius Marcellus Coolidge and money signs popping out of both of their heads. Here is a dramatic retelling of this thought process:

“Yo, get this Big D,” salivates the recently fired from Netflix Jim Margolis to Leary over a Zoom, “Fox got this Bento Box Animation Studio sitting around doing nothing but churning out animated interstitials for the Masked Singer, Paradise PD, The Prince, The Blues Brothers animated series, animated Harold And Kumar, Housebroken, The Great North, and ugh..um..Hoops..”

“I fuckin love Hoops, Jimmy! Why aren’t we pitching this on Netflix again?”

“Because Dogs Playing Poker is going to work so much better as pregame filler for live Sporting Events...on Fox.”

“Oh yeah. All of those rotten good for nothing grease monkey and lunch pail people will probably be giving each other Budweiser flavored Covid at the local saloon with these damn dog pictures hanging up. It’s like when old drunks would stay out late and watch the Flinstones at the bar, did you know that actual human male adults would sit in a town like Boston and waste away in a bar watching Flintsones. Can you believe that Johny?”

“My name is Jimmy, err Jim, but yeah Denis we’ll send you the scripts over. Any idea who we should cast?”

“Get me the hot blonde from Inspector Gadget 2, God dammit I miss Louie..are we sure we can’t get Louie back on air?”

“Afraid after Patton Oswalt dognapped his role from him in Secret Life of Pets, Louie CK has been banned from ever appearing as a talking dog again.”

“So bogus. Bobby Kelly will have to do.” Denis gets a text. “Dammit, Adam is getting all thirsty for this juicy delicious bone. Gotta throw a big bone to my dog Ferrera. Who else?”

“Ok. I’ll get one of those sad Daily Show losers. Um picking one at random, Roy Wood Jr. They’ll pretty much jump into anything, because John Oliver was in Love Guru they start thinking they can fail their way up.”

“I said no politics at the table! Paws off the table! This is going to be so fucking lit!”

////

Kitsch Art deserves so much more. George Lucas, retired American filmmaker, robber baron of childhoods and all around mensch has been heavily invested in the kitsch art of Norman Rockwell. There are a bounty of stories to tell. Too many of them are far too white and basic, but there are rich narratives to be found in his out of date even for his own time romanticism of The Old Masters. Hopelessly out of date could have been a failing of Rockwell, but his politics grew progressive as his career went on and fought against the system. Cassius Marcellus Coolidge is the man that operated the first bank in Antwerp, New York had the astronaut-like grace to wonder, “what if dogs played poker like people played poker?” A painting that dates back to 1894 used as means to sell cigars. What strikes me most about this painting is that they aren’t wearing clothes, but I bet when you try to imagine the painting you imagine these dogs fully decked out in some sort of work coat. There is a further anthropromized version of the ad called “His Station and Four Aces” that depicts a glimpse at a look at an entire canine furry society. His ideas of putting an animal in clothes remains to this day one of the most novel and surefire commercially friendly means of artistic expression. The original cynical man laughing all the way to the bank, his own bank that he founded to boot.

Seen above: An example of a Comic Foreground that also demonstrates the failings of having too few people in your party to properly partake in the comic foreground experience.

“Cash” Cassius wasn’t the first man to imagine a domestic pet in people clothes, but he’s probably one of the few to do so with such commercial finesse. The man also at one point filed the patent on the “Comic Foregrounds,” which is the technical name of one of those carnival boards with holes to stick your head in. In post Covid times how many more heads will be salivating and rushing towards those holes to pop their heads in to create a lasting memory, if only for a second. So when I start learning more about this remarkable weirdo Cassius Coolidge, a man according to his official website dogsplayingpoker.com’s Biography: “Trying to chase mischievous boys from an abandoned house, he fell from a window and hurt his knee, leaving him injured for the rest of his life.”

Flash forward back to 2021 and Denis Leary and his career a man with a wikipedia with fun entries about all the accusations of plagiarism and hate speech against autism I start to worry about the legacy of more Kitsch art falling into the hands of other greedy and desperate TV executives. That being said if you are a greedy TV executive who happens to be a maniac that likes reading rando’s tumblr pages do I have a list for you!

TOP TEN PIECES OF KITSCH ART THAT SHOULD BE TURNED INTO SOME KIND OF SOMETHING

“We Are Having a Heavenly Time” Columbian Bike Monkey and Parakeet by, once again, Cassius Coolidge

Coolidge’s anthropomorphic foresight strikes again! This time he effortlessly establishes a captivating duo that could be easily voiced by an endless combination of celebrity voice actors. PAUL RUDD as “Monkey” and ISSA RAE as “Parakeet” present “We Are Having a Heavenly Time” present a travel show. You could basically use whatever leftover footage you have lying around from the many Conan O’Brien segments and plug Monkey and Parakeet and their trusty bicycle anywhere for an irreverent glimpse into the foreign World around us.

2. “Clown and The Girl” by Haddon Sundblom

Now I know what you’re thinking, that title is miserable! I agree, but with a little reverse engineering you get The Girl and Clown, which could be a whole new addition to the Girl on a Train, Girl with a Dragon Tattoo, Girl with a Dangly Earpiece, the Girl-Verse! The girl appears to be quite fearless of this clown, which is good because we need someone to be brave for when the clown takes off his mask.

Sundblom is also the original artist for the Coke a cola Santa Claus and how is it that we have gone this many rotations around the sun without a single Coke a cola Santa Claus special is the real reason why Christmas will always be the saddest time of year.

3. “Clean Your Fornasetti” based around the artistic Plate collection of Pierro Fornasetti

Muk bangs, videos of people eating are a huge cyber traffic boom. People love watching people eat. Why not add the element of surprise by what kind of playful Fornasetti chanteuse is hiding underneath this plate full of gruel? Fornasetti is an artist with over 11,000 items created in his name and over 500 of them are based around a variety of expressions of a single woman. Clean Your Fornasetti is a deep and poetic rumination of the romance between the act of someone cleaning their plate and the reveal that the plate contained a visual feast all its own.

4. “Mickey’s Kinkade Playhouse” by the one and only Thomas Kinkade

The Kinkade Studios features over 63 “narrative panoramas” featuring Disney characters, but largely Mickey and Minnie, simply vibing. It’s time we stop pretending that small children like Mickey Mouse and market him for wistful older audiences that want to radiate in a nice long warm bath of color and sound. I am not sure I am even pitching an actual series but more of a Narrative Panoply. One thing that is missing from Disney Plus, and streaming services in general, is a severe lack of programming frills and flourishing. The iconic Adult Swim bumps are something completely lost to the dustbins of programming history left to remain in youtube compilations. Thomas Kinkade is a lot like Enya. Art critics treated him like a comedic punching bag for so long, but I doubt there’s an artist that grasps the kind of sterile enchantment people want after a long day of opioid benders. We’re all trapped inside doing puzzles why not do the bare minimum of slightly animating a pleasant scene of Mickey and Minnie roasting marshmallows or enjoying a breath of fresh Alpine air?

5. “Dust Lickers” by Odd Nerdrum

Quick! Get me Trash Humpers’ Harmony Korine on the Line Show him Shit Rock! The world of Odd Nerdrum is a harsh and primeval one that would make for an astonishing animated landscape. Odd Nerdrum himself feels like a worthy subject of some kind of documentary based around his imagery and insistence on making his art in the most arcane and old fashioned methods possible. Once again, maybe the visual world of Odd Nerdrum may not make for a full on narrative series, but once again would make for one hell of an animated segment.

6. “Homemade Pasta” by John Currin

A cozy Queer slice of life cooking drama based around the two charming fellows of John Currin’s Homemade Pasta scene. A series of vignettes based around the completely unfabulous and domestic version of bliss that was denied many people as a result of the AIDS crisis. You can’t tell me you don’t see those two nice guys getting cozy and making pasta together and you aren’t dying to see how they go about rolling out their own focaccia bread.

7. “The Velvet Elvis” by the Collective Conscious

David Lynch at one point in time was trying to crack into making his own Elvis biopic. I think it’s pretty safe to say that the age of a public wanting a David Lynch directed Elvis biopic has probably passed, but that does not stop Velvet art enthusiasts. TheVelvetStore.com is featuring a remarkable promo that could really bump up what a David Lynch Elvis movie could be like and the horror of having one’s soul trapped inside of a Velvet Elvis rendition painting seems like a pretty fertile place to begin a proper story about Elvis in America.

8. “Big Eye Bunch” by Margaret Keane

Yes, it was only a matter of time before Ms. Big Eyes herself, Queen of Kitsch, Margaret Keane would come up on a list like this. Tim Burton tried and sort of kind of captured what it so endearing about Keane’s work, but I think a fully animated dive into an orphanage full of sad Big Eye kids that time travel and meet other Big Eyed children version of historical figures is a Big Idea that could make a whole new generation keen on Keane.

9. “Banality” by Jeff Koons

An animated series based around the artistic sensibilities of Jeff Koons would be a tricky affair, but just the kind of gaudy whimsy that someone like Michel Gondrey could use to proper effect. A series based around someone trying to steal the fifteen million dollar Michael Jackson statue would also be appropriate.

10. “Groovenians reboot” by Kenny Scharf

Scharf is the only artist on this list that actually was a kitsch artist that caught the attention of early aughts adult swim. A tv show that only features the artistic sensibilities of Scharf but also a voice acting cast that consisted of Paul Reubens, Rupaul, Vincent Gallo, and Dennis Hopper. There’s also a theme song performed by the B-52s and musical direction by Devo’s Mark Mothersbaugh. One of the only known published reviews of the pilot describe the show as needing mind altering substances to enjoy and that it is essentially like “watching a cartoon reflected off of a funhouse mirror. This is basically a description of the modern tik tok addled twitchy type content that makes a killing on the Internet for millenial and zoomer types. Basically the whole aesthetic of a warped and broken looking cartoon is the exact sort of thing weirdos deep diving at youtube at four in the morning are looking for and seeing that this gets a failed pilot and Denis Leary’s Dog Poker vignettes get greenlit is exactly what’s wrong with the world.

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