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the-midnight-blooms · 14 days

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I Know It's Over

pairing: park seonghwa x reader

AU: historical au, war period

word count: 3.7k

ATEEZ as angst tropes series:

masterlist

Trope: Tragic Ending

When the news of the war came, she looked up at her lover who met her gaze- those once kind eyes full of love and adoration now brimming with social responsibility. They said nothing to each other. They didn’t need to, courtesy of the love that bloomed from childhood- spending their time talking to their night away so much that everything that was hers was his, everything that was his was hers-if not more. They did not hold a fragment of each other, but their whole entities.

From the moment the country looked to their leaders in anticipation as they spoke of their allies marching to war, everybody knew that at one point their lovers would be pushed in line marching with them. So, they held onto each other longer, savouring every word, every touch, kiss, moment, letter. Anything and everything that reminisced their very presence. The streets had gone quieter at night sometimes you could hear the faint jazz music playing, the flickering candles of the windowsills reflecting the fluid shadows that moved under the cover of the night, ever so gently-music in their feet. Yet, when the ladies at the dress shop had told her of the news, she dropped the dress in her hand and fled from the shop, heart pounding in her chest blood rushing through her veins. Launching up the steps, she stormed through the front door her husband, who was in the kitchen, with creased eyebrows rushed into the living room. She looked up at him and knew.

Knew that he wouldn't have hesitated one bit. That he had already gone and enlisted, he was probably the first man in line at the office. Curse his honour. Curse his patriotism. Curse his integrity. His hands cupped the sides of her cheeks as tears blurred her vision. Seonghwa knew that he didn't have to commit to his crime, that she already knew. That's why she had left from her work in the middle of the day; she never did that in the ten years she worked for them. Even on the day he proposed to her, he relived that day over and over again-the memory of it persisting in his head.

He consulted the old lady, Mrs Noe, the oldest dressmaker in town almost on his knees begging her to give her best dressmaker the day off.

"Why would I do that, boy? Get up you look foolish." she snapped. Hastily, Seonghwa got off his knees following the old lady to the back of the shop. His pleas were getting nowhere, "Especially at the busiest time of the year, it's wedding season boy. All the brides are frantic, unless you want to grab a tape measure and help us- leave." His heart fluttered at the word 'wedding', a blush creeping onto his face as he slumped onto the chair in her cramped office.

"I...I wish to propose to her." He whispered, just loud enough for Mrs Noe to hear him. The scrunched up look on her face had faltered, her lips uplifting into a wide smile. She giggled; the sound had him taken aback. Did she just giggle?

"Oh, you silly boy, why didn't you just start off with that? Of course, I’ll give her the day off. Only on one condition." Seonghwa perked up in his chair, brown eyes wide and attentive. "We design her wedding dress, and she must still work here after marriage." That's actually two. Regardless, Seonghwa did not care. Springing up from his seat, he placed a kiss on Mrs Noe's cheek, who angrily hmphed despite the small smile complacent on her lips. Though the happiness, only came from one party. When she arrived at the shop later that day and was informed by Mrs Noe that she wasn't needed tomorrow, hence had the day to herself a wave of sadness enveloped her. A tsunami of customers were making visits to the dressmaker's day after day, waving rolls of cash; and demands for bridal attire while the softness of the summer air lingered, with the sun beaming down at them even as the day travelled towards an end. An uneasy thought settled into her brain thinking that perhaps she was underperforming at work, what if her manager was beginning to disapprove of her work?

Her solemn mood had continued the next day, even when Seonghwa came to take her to their spot, a large oak tree that overlooked the meadows around fifteen minutes from her home. Though their clasped hands had sent a ripple of comfort flowing through him, he sensed the palpable dejection as she trudged towards the tree. As soon as they sat, the tears had burst from their banks; burying her head in his shoulder as she cried.

“I think I’m going to get sacked.” She wailed through her tears. “Mrs Noe gave me the day off and she never gives me the day off.” He couldn’t hold back his snicker, her head shot up from his shoulder, tears coming to a sudden stop with a look of fury plastered across her features.

“Are you laughing at me?” She inquired; the accusatory tone almost made him coo at her. She looked so cute, with furrowed eyebrows.

“Shouldn’t you be happy you have time off between the chaos of the shop?” She shook her head profusely.

“No, I’d rather have the job done once and for all and enjoy the quietness of the shop for about two months.” Gently, he tugged at her and she rested her head on his shoulder again, legs outstretched in front of them. “What if she sacks me, Hwa?” A small laugh escaped from his lips, the melody easing the panic in her soul.

“I don’t think so, Jagiya. She loves you too much for that.” She peered up at him beneath her lashes, catching the gentleness in eyes, the bridge of his long nose, the overturn of his soft, plump lips. “Forget about that for now. You’re overthinking.” For a while, they were pressed up against each other- his arm draped around her waist the red velvet ring box protruding in his left pocket.

“Do you ever think of a future with us?” She blurted; her voice carried away by the wind that came to caress them. In that moment he wanted to do nothing more than to kiss her as his fingers reached for his pocket. Surely, she wanted a future for them both too, right?

“Every day. Every moment, every second my heart beats I think about how lonely I feel without you.” Suddenly her head got up from his shoulder, craning to meet his gaze. “How much I find myself unable to do so much as breath, when you’re not there but when you’re next to me I can’t think.”

“Hwa-,” she breathed, she drew closer to him until their foreheads touched.

“Please. Be mine. Be my wife.” He begged, his hands travelled to his pocket, pulling out the ring. This time a sob escaped from her lips once more but one built from gaiety when he broke the burning question, “Will you marry me?” violently she shook her head, yes, slipping the ring onto her finger. Flinging her arms around his neck they held onto each other so tightly then as if they were afraid that they would be torn apart by natural forces forced to live a life of solitude.

It was anger, pride and discontent that was wedging a gap between them. The pride of the selfish leaders that ruled countries, manifesting wars creating weapons to flaunt their strength and brutality. But what was the point of such strength if all it did was kill each other and tear a mother away from her child? A husband away from his wife?

Seonghwa noticed how his wife did not cry during the last few weeks he had before he left for the military. Instead, she had that beautiful smile plastered amongst her lips tending to his every little need. Uncharacteristically, she began to reduce her hours at the shop besides at this point nobody wanted those fancy dresses anymore, not since nobody knew when they’d get the chance to wear them again. Instead, the government had requested the tailors to start designing and sewing as many military uniforms as they could. She spent most of week running beige polyester under the sewing machine, her hands gliding over the fabric but lacking the passion she once had for her work. It pained her that soon her husband would be wearing one of these uniforms. A majority of the time when they were both at home, they were glued to each other’s side: cooking together, cleaning together but often in silence. There was no conversation to be had anymore as she knew that if she opened her mouth, she’d submit him to her vulnerability which was the last thing she wanted to do. Even the day, his gorgeous black locks had been snipped away at the hairdressers, she bit her lip and kissed his cheek. Seonghwa felt his own tears forming as he caught his reflection in the barber’s mirror. He held it together, still. What a pitiful thing for a grown man to want to cry over.

She lay awake later that night, staring blankly at the ceiling as the moonlight streamed in through the slit in the curtains beaming down at his resting body. He looked so ethereal, her hands moving to trace the outline of his structured nose and jawline relishing the way his skin felt smooth to the touch. Would it feel this way after the war?

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping, dear? Long day for us tomorrow.” His groggy voice pausing her movements, clutching her hand against his cheeks she shifted closer towards him the warmth radiating of his body comforting her.

“Do you have to go?” her voice quivered, at once betraying her pent-up sobriety.

“You know I have to, my love. My country is very dear to me.”

“Dearer than I?”

“No” he blurted, without thinking. How could she suggest such a thing? The last few weeks he had spent trying to come to terms with the fact that he’d had to leave her- without ever knowing when he was going to return. For the first time, since his enlistment she sobbed. She didn’t care anymore, she just wanted him as selfish as she seemed she wanted him for eternity. Sinking her head into his chest, his fingers ran through her hair as she clutched onto his shirt as tight as she could. As if that would stop him from leaving, as if that would decapitate his morality and everything he stood for. Their lips found each other in the midst of all their hurt, passion flooding through them. All their love, adoration, affection poured through them that night as they remained within each other’s arms unable and unwilling to let each other ago from the comfort of their hold.

A whiff of steam evaporated into the cold winter air that eerie morning, as the station bustled with the intense movement of soldiers moving to the train. With clasped hands, they inched forward, the pummelling of their hearts in sync as he stopped in his tracks turning, no longer a mile but a mere two metres away from the train. His arm wrapped around her waist pulling her towards him, pressing his lips to her forehead, nose then lips- the same systematic order he always kissed her.

“You’ll write to me, won’t you?” He muttered and she nodded. “Everyday?” she scoffed.

“Maybe not every day, but I’ll write an account of everything I did each day in a week.” She joked, a fond look on both their faces. A comfortable silence held among them, interrupted by the whistling of the train and uproar of the noise by the men running to catch the train before it was too late. “Come back to me, Hwa. As soon as you can, you must come back. Promise me.”

“I promise. I’ll come back, no matter how broken I am. You own every last part of me, complete or incomplete.” He beckoned, pushing his lips against hers for God knows if it was the last time. The crowd pushed against them, and Seonghwa pulled away, their hands gliding over each other their fingertips touching last as he ambled towards the train. Her body glued to the ground watched the train set off, knowing that even though she couldn’t see him he was watching her through the window, only God knew when they’d meet again.

My love, my life, my heart,

For everyday I’m here, my nights are filled with dreams that I am at home holding you in my arms as that song you love plays. It’s a dream that’s both euphoric and painful for me and I know with each passing day you ponder when I will be home again, I wonder all the same. However, good things come to those who wait. It’s significantly quieter out here at the front and rumour has it that the general says that some soldiers may be able to return home. We listen to the news on the radio every night, as those pesky politicians fill us with promises of the war ending soon. (The war was supposed to end three months ago and we’re still here.) Then there’s that burning question I know you’ll ask. When is soon? I don’t know my love, but we’ll wait all the same.

I hope you’re taking care of yourself; I want both you and my little Park to be as strong as he (or she) can be.

All my love,

Seonghwa

My dearest Seonghwa,

Though I am growing impatient by the day, you’re right: good things do come to those who wait. A customer at Mrs Noe’s last week told us that her husband, who works in defence, suggests that the war will come to a close. Many of the countries are forging alliances now, and the enemy state seems to be losing traction with the leader gone and substantial lack of funding. Hopefully that means good for us! I hope you’re eating well and keeping warm as the nights grow even colder than before. The last thing we need is you falling ill.

Yes, I am eating well, little Park is making sure of that. He has a big appetite much like his father. I miss you more and more. Please come back to me. Come back to us.

Your love.

My heart,

Just two more weeks my love, just two more. It’s been a while since our last letter, I trust it’s little Park exhausting you. That little bugger. I cannot wait to hold him in my arms when I come home. Two more weeks then it’s just the three of us, nothing can tear us apart then. Remember my comrades, San and Mingi I was telling you about? Those arseholes get to leave in about a week and they won’t stop going on about it. How jealous I am, I tried to put in a request to leave early but no can do. There are so many things that I wish to say, but I can’t write them. I have to look at you, even as I close my eyes now the words rush to my head at thought of you but disappear when I reopen them. So let’s wait two more weeks my dear, and hold each other again like we did long ago.

All my love,

Seonghwa

“Comrade Park?” His head snapped up from his book, catching the eyes of his superior. Ditching his book on his bunk, he stood up from his seat standing up as straight as he could. “It’s ok boy, sit back down.” Hesitantly, Seonghwa sat back down, the lieutenant positioning himself next to him. A silence flooded between them; he wondered what the lieutenant had travelled all the way to their camp for. It had to be more than to take a seat on his bed. An anxiety fulfilled him as his mind suggested that there were still a few more things to do at the front.

“We need a few men to volunteer themselves to go up North for about three days. There’s been sightings of a rebel group, a common enemy that both we and our former enemy share.” He paused; a breath hitched in his throat.

“I’m sorry I cannot sir. There’s not long left until I am discharged and I have a wife and child waiting for me back home. I wasn’t there during my child’s birth to begin with. I think I’ve stayed away from home long enough.” he declared; it was true he had enough of this measly war. He did not care if the superiors praised him for his determination on the battlefield and war strategy. His military service proved his capabilities beyond the job in the mundane office he had once worked at.

“I understand, but it’s only three days. There will be no combat, think of it like going on a camping trip-,”

“With all due respect sir, that’s what they had said to us to get us to enlist. It will be fun, a game, a ‘camping trip’, and this has been nothing more than hell on the face of the earth.” He mourned the empty bunk next to him, of Comrade Kang, a college professor who despite his timid appearance had great strength and shared Seonghwa’s capacity for strategy on the field. He lost that man in the front line; he took his last breath in Seonghwa’s arms-the sound of his coarse breath engraved in his memory.

“You’ll get to leave for home early. How long do you have comrade? A week and a half? Say three days more and you’re done. You can kiss this camp goodbye and see me in six months at San’s wedding.” A deep sigh had escaped from Seonghwa’s lips, the notion of leaving the safety of the camp resisted within him for a few moments before he reluctantly agreed. The lieutenant lightly cheered, patting him on the back before turning on his heel.

Three days my dear.

“Sanghoon!” a bellowing voice echoed throughout the home, followed by the eruption of high-pitched giggles. “Get down from there otherwise just you wait until your appa gets home.” Slumped on the sofa beside him, she picked up her child in her arms, ignoring his soft whines as he nestled within her embrace.

Park Sanghoon, she had named him. Meaning benevolent and rank, as when she first saw him-it was if she was looking into the face of her lover. Everything about him was his father, from his eyes and lips to his kindness and maturity. He had been her rock, his laughter lightening the home in moments where she missed Seonghwa so much. He was due to be home soon, counting down the days in her head until she’d see her lover again. Rocking Sanghoon back and forth in her seat, she gently settled him down once his wide brown eyes had fluttered to a close.

The knock on the door had seized her attention, a quick glance at the clock as she pondered who it could be. Swinging the door open to reveal a man, with broad shoulders, high cheekbones and crescent eyes staring down at her- the loitering despair sending a pang of anxiety through her.

“Mrs Park?” A slow, single nod rocked her brain. “I’m Choi San, I fought alongside your husband in the military, perhaps he spoke of me.” A small smile crept on her lips as she recounted the things Seonghwa said about San. How kind he was, initially intimidating due to his perceived strength but on the inside had a heart of gold.

“Ah of course! What’s wrong, San? Why don’t you come in?” Stepping to the side to allow him entrance, San remained fixed outside her porch.

“I’m sorry Mrs Park.” Looking into his tear-filled eyes, a shock of realisation pounded through her. Please no, please no, please no. Let this all be a sick, sick joke. “Seonghwa, he-,” an obnoxious wave of sobbing eructed form her, she sunk to the ground-her whole world sinking beneath her feet dragging her under but not six feet under with him. Not to the other life with him.

You promised, Park Seonghwa. Anger seething through her, he promised. He said he’d come back to her. She stood by the doorway, endlessly sobbing San bowing his head as he bit onto his lip- refusing to let the tears pour from his own eyes. While the whole street listened in solicitude, the wives had their husbands return home to them- her pain had only transcended few barriers in their hearts.

Their husbands had returned back to them, but Seonghwa had not returned back to her. Taken by his country, the one he sold his soul for.

Come back to me, please.

Sanghoon’s father,

I can no longer sit by the door waiting for your arrival because I know better than to expect to you walking through it. I know it’s over. Yet my heart wavers in anticipation as some stupid delusion fulfils me that you’ll come back home, and I’ll run into your open arms. Your broken promises fill me with dread, for what was once “two more weeks” is now an eternity until God returns me to your side. How ruthless can you be to me, to leave me with the responsibility of taking care of your child. One who wholly embodies you. Every day he looks more and more like you, and I think about how much you would adore him if you were here. I couldn’t go to San’s wedding, a cowardice I am for not wanting to watch a love that bloomed over ours being shot stone cold dead. Could you blame me, my dear?

Every week, I take Sanghoon to our spot by the meadows but it seems to be inhibited by a young couple. He snatches the book from her hands and lifts it above her head knowing that she won’t be able to reach. He is so much like you and she, like me. I just hope the war doesn’t snatch him away from her. There is no war now, there will be no war now. I’m angry at you, but no amount of anger will bring you back to hear my scolding. How cruel of you to leave me. So, count the days now, until I return to your side since you couldn’t return to mine. Now you must suffer and wait for me, while I live out the rest of my days in my cold and empty heart.

Your lover, your dearest.

•••

AN:/ my first fic! I also wrote this during a terrible cold, and published before the yunho fic I had lined up. (I also have exams coming up but we'll ignore that for now-blame my creative inspiration for coming at the wrong time), please leave feedback if you can!

#park seonghwa #seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #historical au #ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez angst #kpop #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #angst #heavy angst

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corriganatheart · 1 year

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If I Should Stay / Jude Bellingham x reader pt 2

Requested: as requested from @evansxchalamet

Synopsis: After five months of losing one another, Jude and you finally reconcile and try to move on from the past.

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x fem!reader

Genre: 18+, heartbreaking but happy ending

Warning: mention of miscarriage

Groaning from the sound of his alarm, Jude tries to reach over his nightstand, only for his other arm to resist. He frowns, thinking he has once again slept in an uncomfortable position, but after hearing another soft groan, his eyes widen.

Instead of the new white sheets that he has become accustomed to, Jude’s eyes were met with your sleepy face and the strands of hair splattered on his arms. His eyes softened after remembering what had happened last night. It must’ve been five o clock when you guys finally went to sleep after whispering apologies to one another, wiping each other’s tears, and stating how much you missed one another. He didn’t even care that he only had one hour of sleep because you were in his arms again.

“Shit,” Jude mumbles after he hears the alarm goes off again. He reaches as far as he can without moving his head and can finally grab his phone. He had about one hour before practice but didn’t want to leave you, but the World Cup was coming up, and his teammates would kill him if he missed practice. He almost said fuck the World Cup, because your sleepy face was so calm, and it has been a while since he saw you relaxed; he can watch you all day. “Baby,” he whispers while moving the loose strands of hair out of your face. You mumble something that he can’t quite understand, but it is cute as hell. “I have to get up for practice. I’ll see you when I come back, ok?” He asked, even though he knew you probably weren’t listening. Jude smiles when you sheepishly nod without opening your eyes and pull the warm cover up more. He then kisses your forehead and quietly gets out of bed.

“Well, someone’s in a good mood,” Trent says while listening to Jude whistling to a song. It was now a rare sight to see Jude walk into the practice field all smiling and laughing. The last couple of months were filled with sad Jude, angry Jude, nontalkative Jude, and anything that no one was used to. “He must’ve finally gotten his balls sucked,” Marcus said, causing Trent to laugh. The duo then watched as Jude reached down his pocket to grab his phone, only for him to plaster the big smile that had been a rare sight. The duo's eyes soften after seeing the young player return to his old self again. “I guess they’re ok now,” Marcus says with a warm smile. Trent nod and clasp his hands together. “I was going to kill Jude if he lost that girl,” he said with a smile that had two different meanings. Marcus holds his gaze on Trent and nods knowingly before patting him on the back. “You did well holding your feelings, mate,” Marcus says.

The whole practice, Jude was all laughing and giggling with everything; it was a sight to behold. England’s National team was going to the World Cup, and Jude was excited to play. He was more excited to invite you to Qatar because that would be the first trip you guys had since the incident. It would allow him to see new places with you while doing something he loves. “Yo, Brazil is voted as number one to most likely win the World Cup,” Harry says, causing Jude to lose his smile. He frowns, thinking about the high chances of Neymar winning the World Cup while you were there. When he met you, you were a massive fan of PSG, and over time, you became a fan of Dortmund, but you were still a Neymar girl. Jude huffs at the thought of you cheering for Brazil. Although he knew you wouldn’t do that, it still makes him jealous. “Chill, dude, no one is taking Bellingham’s girl,” Trent nudges his elbow. Jude rolls his eyes and passes the ball to his teammate, who has been on his case this morning about you. “When are we seeing Y/N again?” Trent asks with a knowing grin. Jude shrugged, but the smile returned to him at the thought of you. “Hope to see her at the World Cup; we do miss her cheerleading skills,” Trent said, and Jude glared at him after seeing the flustered look on Trent’s face. It was no surprise that some of his teammates were attracted to you despite you being his girlfriend, but he knew they would never try anything with you. With that being said, many of his opponents had asked for your numbers several times when you used to watch their games, and sometimes it makes Jude insecure because some of them were much more famous or mature than him, but he can tell you never cared for that. “You trying to score the opening goal?” Trent asked him. Jude smiles, knowing the answer to that and who the dedication will go to.

You scroll through your Instagram feed to see contents you have missed out on. It was mainly about soccer since most of the people you follow are Jude’s teammates and their significant others. Many of Jude’s England National Football teammates post about their excitement for the World Cup, and you smile warmly, thinking about Jude’s achievements. You still remember when he would constantly say that he wanted to play for the World Cup before he turned 21, and here he was, being one of the youngest players to go to the World Cup. After nearly hearting all the posts, you return to your profile which still has the private lock. You used to be public about your life, but after the numerous spam comments, Jude asked you to turn your Instagram private and only allow family and friends to see your post. It was a good call because many people were spamming his account with hate comments after the dating rumors between him and the Instagram model.

You were in the middle of making some sandwiches when you heard the door slam. You didn’t have to turn around to know that Jude was coming to you. Your back was turned against him when he came up and kissed your cheek. The smell of soap combined with cologne was still fresh, meaning he must have showered at the stadium. You continue making sandwiches when he kisses your exposed neck and shoulders. It has been a while since you guys were this close to one another, and it felt good. You can tell that Jude felt the same way because his hands were wrapped around your waist while he inhaled your scent and tried to kiss as much of your exposed skin as possible. It was comforting to know that even after the distance between you two for the past months, he still cared and still cherished you as before. “I want you to go to Qatar with me,” he said while placing his head on your right shoulder. “Isn’t there a policy about players and guests staying at the same hotel?” You asked. Jude hummed and shrugged, “fuck the policy. If they don’t let you stay with me, I’ll just book the nearest hotel,” he said. “I don’t know, Jude, Qatar’s culture doesn’t really allow unmarried people to stay in the same room,” you said and turned to look at him. Your back was against the counter now, and Jude had you trapped between his arms. He stared down at you like you would disappear if he blinked. “Qatar’s culture can never separate you from me. You’re my woman, and I am your man,” he says and leans in to kiss you, but you stop him by placing your hand on his chest. Jude looks frustrated by that, but he waits for your next move. "I don't know, Jude," you smiled innocently, and he knew you would say something that would probably make him mad. "My favorite player is going to be there; I wouldn't want him to think I am taken," you tease. Jude rolls his eyes and lifts your chin up so you wouldn't be able to look away. "Everyone knows you are my woman, and I won't hesitate to beat any players if that means they back the fuck up. You know I will," he said with a smirk reminding you of his past altercation with other soccer players. You smile and finally let go of the hand on his chest, and you stand on your toes now while Jude places his hands on your hips. You wrap your arms around his neck, causing Jude to smile; you always did that before you kissed him. "It will always be you, Jude, no one else but you," you whisper before finally locking your lips with his.

Jude swears he was going to fight his coach when they told him he would have to board England's private plane instead of going with you. It was already enough that his teammates teased him during practice, but now he had to be stuck with them on the plane and them constantly teasing him about the hickeys on his neck. Trent went on and on about how he thought you were an innocent girl, and it got to the point where Marcus had to shut him up because it was getting a little too inappropriate. Jude doesn't mind the teasing, but sometimes he finds it a little annoying when Trent takes it too far, and by now, everyone knows why. "Remember, Jude, you are still young. We don't need little Bellingham's running around the field yet!" Trent yelled down the hallway causing Marcus to glare at him while Jude shook his head. It was kind of ironic because Jude actually wouldn't mind little Bellingham’s running around the house. It might be the fact that you were pregnant and almost had his child. If it was someone else, he probably would have a different reaction. Jude sighs and slumps himself down the bed, thinking about the baby again. Although you guys had promised to move on, he still can't stop thinking about the future. The miscarriage was so traumatizing that you might not want to have kids with him again. He even noticed your panicky face when you guys had sex a couple of days ago. He had worn a condom as promised, but you still looked unsure about him cumming inside. The thought of you not enjoying sex with him because of the incident isn't something he wants because he would do anything to make sure you are equally pleased. Jude sighs and looks at the time on his phone; you still have two hours before your flight lands, giving him plenty of time to fix himself up.

Jude expected you to look beautiful and perfect, but his eyes nearly popped out when he saw you walk out of the bathroom. You were wearing a champagne satin midi dress, your hair was in loose curls, and everything matched perfectly. When he picked you up from the airport this evening, you looked cute with black sweats and an oversize black hoodie. You also looked exhausted, so he offered that you guys stay in instead of going out to the group dinner, but you suggested going since the other player's girlfriends will also join. But when you told him that you’d try to look exceptional, he thought you were going with something simple, but he didn’t expect you to go all out. He wasn’t complaining; you looked perfect. So perfect that he wanted to keep you in the hotel room, just so the others couldn’t see you with that dress on.

“Jude, is there a problem?” You asked while fixing your hair to reveal your collarbone. Jude didn’t know what to do, and his pants were getting a little too tight. “Jude?” You asked again, and your voice was a little more concerned now…the sound of insecurity.

Jude inhales his breath and shakes his head after seeing your face. He was so caught up in unholy thoughts that he forgot how much this night meant to you. It was the first night since the accident that you’ll be out, and you’re most likely nervous about people’s reaction and question you about your whereabouts. He also recognizes a bit of insecurity when you fidget with the dress and try to suck in your breath to hide a little bit of tummy that you’ve gained. Jude looks at you with adoration as he walks up to you and tuck a strand of hair behind your ears. “You’re so beautiful I can’t believe how lucky I am,” he said and kissed the top of your head. You felt your nerves calm down from his words and lean into his warm arms. Everything will be ok; Jude is by your side and will never leave.

It took a while, but some fans from England spotted Jude and asked for his autographs and photos, which caused more people to approach, but it was ok; you watched from afar and even took pictures with them. Most of his fans are supportive of the relationship, though, in the beginning, they were skeptical because you guys were so young; as time passed, they realized how important you were to Jude, and they accepted you. “My girlfriend is waiting for me; I’m hungry sorry, guys,” Jude said and waved bye to his fans before he walked over to you. “Sorry, babe,” he apologized and intertwined his fingers with yours. You shook your head and smiled at him before following him into the restaurant.

Upon entering the restaurant, numerous eyes were on you guys, and the waiter recognized Jude and asked to follow him. He then kindly guided you guys to a private room far from the other guest, and upon opening the door, you could hear his teammate's loudness. “There they are! The Bellingham!” Kane shouted after spotting you guys. You smiled and wave at the his teammates who were surprised and delighted to see you. Jude guided you guys towards Marcus and sat down next to him. “Woah, it’s been so long,” Marcus said while leaning forward to speak to you since Jude was between you guys. “I know. Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you guys,” you apologized. Marcus shook his head, “no, we are just glad you are back. It’s good to see Jude all smiley again,” he wiggled his eyebrows, causing you to look away shyly.

“Hey,” you look across from you to see Trent leaning on his right hand, staring at you. “Hi, Trent,” you smiled. Trent smiles back and continues to stare at you. You always thought Trent was very friendly, and maybe it was because he is Jude's best friend, but after one of the other player’s girlfriends pointed out Trent’s interest in you, you distance yourself from him out of respect for Jude. “How have you been?” Trent asked, still staring at you like a hawk. “Fine.” You smiled and felt Jude’s hands stiffen a little. You squeeze his hands to assure him everything will be fine. “You’re watching our game tomorrow, right?” Trent asked. You didn’t get to respond because Jude interrupted you, “of course, she is. She’s my girlfriend,” he said; more like a warning. You chuckled at his possessiveness and leaned in to kiss him on his cheek. Jude turns to you and smiles, and gently strokes the side of your face. “Ugh,” you heard Foden say with a disgusted look. “You two are so in love it makes me sick.”

The dinner went better then you thought the team didn’t plaster you with questions, mainly because they were too focused on discussing tomorrow's game. Marcus and his girlfriend left early, giving the excuse that they wanted to sleep, but everyone knew what was going to do down. Foden continues to joke about your relationship with Jude and how disgusted he is about you guys being in love, but you know he meant that in a good way. Trent didn’t say much, but you caught him staring a couple of times before he averted his eyes. And by the time you guys left, the restaurant was starting to empty, everyone getting ready for the game tomorrow.

You wave at the representatives of England’s team when you finally make your way to your bench. You and some of the other players' girlfriends are sitting a couple of benches behind the coaches. It was nerve-wracking being among thousands of people, knowing there were cameras everywhere. Some people have recognized you as Jude Bellingham’s girlfriend and took some videos causing you to freak out, but after settling down in your seat, you calmed down. This is supposed to be about Jude and his team, no one else but them. You smile when you saw the team finally entering the field. Jude was the last one to exit, and man, did he look beautiful in England’s jersey. He smiled when he spotted you a couple of benches behind his coaches, and his eyes remained on you when you guys sang your national anthem.

England was doing well. And it happened so fast you almost fainted. The commentator shouted your boyfriend's name, and the crowd screamed his name. Jude has just scored a goal and it happened so fast your heart couldn’t take it. Your boyfriend has scored the opening goal for England, and the whole stadium was he was screaming his name. Jude was celebrating with his teammates before he turned to where you were standing and pointed at you. Your eyes widened, remembering the promise he made last night. “I’m going to score the opening goal and dedicate it to you. The person who has believed me since day one,” he said while you guys were cuddling. “And what if you don’t?” You asked, even though you know he probably will. Jude turns to his side and pulls your naked bodies together. “If it’s for you, I definitely will,” he said confidently.

You felt tears falling down your cheeks as your eyes remained on Jude’s. His eyes widened from seeing the tears, and he mouthed something; I love you. The camera must be on you because the crowd got louder, but your eyes remained on Jude. He didn’t break the eye contact until one of his teammates pulled him away.

“Jude, that was incredible!” You happily said and wrapped your arms around his waist. Jude smiles and pulls you into a hug, his hand softly stroking the back of your head as he whispers several thank you. “I was able to do this because of you, baby,” he whispers, and you feel a gentle kiss on top of your head. You blushed at the thought of him showing affection when there were still cameras around. “Alright, Ima go drown myself,” you heard Foden say behind you.

You looked at the crumpled photo in your hand. The sight of it doesn’t make you sad anymore but makes you more brave and more determined, never to let that happen again. You know you and Jude still has a long way to go until your the relationship can be perfect, and that was ok. Every relationship has its ups and down, and this was one of the worse cases, but even after five months of constantly ignoring each other, you guys pulled through because you love one another, and that was the reassurance you both needed.

“Baby?” You heard call from the inside. “I’m out here!” You said, and he slid open the door to the balcony. “Woah,” Jude says when he sees the night view. It was a perfect view of his hotel and the soccer studio. Qatar was also a beautiful city, especially at night. “What are you thinking?” He asked while leaning on the rail. You smiled and showed him the ultrasound photo. Jude’s eyes soften, and he goes behind you to loosely wrap his arm around your neck. “Thank you for being so strong,” Jude says, “I should’ve been there to comfort you, but I was scared you would hate me more. I couldn’t let that happen; I would lose my mind if you left me.” He said and you felt the sincerity in his voice. “Jude, I should be the one to apologize. I pushed you away and hid the truth from you. I’m so sorry,” you said. Jude didn’t say anything, instead he placed a gentle kiss on your head. “Wait a little longer, Y/N. Once this World Cup ends and I sign on to a big league, I will give you everything you desire. I will give you the life you have always wanted, and you won’t have to worry about anything anymore, baby. Just wait, and I’ll give you everything you desire.” You smiled warmly at that, but Jude didn’t understand that you had everything already. “Jude,” you said. “Yes, baby?” He responds immediately. “I already have everything.”

Bonus

“Omg, there he is!” You happily jump from the couch. Jude frowns, watching you fan girl over Neymar through the tv screen. He was glad you didn’t request to see the game in person because people would definitely roast him. “He’s not that good looking,” Jude says with a scowl on his face. You rolled your eyes at him and peck his lips. “Don’t get your panty in a twist, babe; I like him because he is a good player,” you winked. Jude rolls his eyes and ruffle your hair. “He’s lucky he didn’t have to play me because I would’ve made sure his fake injuries were real injuries,” he said. You glared at him, causing him to avert his eyes. “Don’t be jealous! You’re much hotter, and you know that,” you exclaimed, causing Jude to smile. “I know baby, and Neymar wishes he can steal you away from me. You’re mine and only mine.”

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham fluff #soccer #futball #footballer imagine

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elixirfromthestars · 1 year

Text

Conflict of Interest - II

Pairing: Detective!Bucky Barnes x Lawyer!Reader

Summary: After deserting Bucky at the fair, you are left dealing with the consequences. This becomes difficult as you are all assigned to a new case.

Word Count: 8.5k

Warning(s): crime show level of violence / homicide investigation details / drinking / angst / fluff / mentions of a car accident and injuries, but no major details / slight cursing / anxiety / overthinking / insecurities / lots of back and forth / misunderstandings / angst with a happy ending

a/n: It has been a while, but part 2 of this beautiful duo is finally out! ❤️ I hope the length of part 2 can make up for how long it took me to finally finish writing it. It’s angsty with a happy ending, although the happy ending doesn’t come so easily. 👀 Thank you for reading! ❤️ Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!! 💕

➵ Prequel Drabble // ➵ Part I

You tossed and turned in your bed once more, the sunlight peeking through your blinds, disturbing your sleep. The events of last Saturday weighed heavy on you. So much so, that you hadn’t gone to work in the past two days—today would be the third. You claimed you came down with the flu, putting on the best performance you could when Natasha called you. You were never able to lie to her face, but over the phone wasn’t as hard. Eventually, however, you would have to go back.

Eventually, you would have to face him.

Bucky called you a few times that night after you deserted him at the fair. The guilt set in almost immediately and you were too ashamed to answer him. You managed to read one message before silencing all of the notifications on your phone.

Can you at least let me know you got home safely?

Your stomach twisted at the words, the culpability of your actions threatening to eat away at it. Even after everything you said, even after running away from him and deserting him at the fair, he still only wanted to know you were safe. There were so many things you wanted to say. Nothing, however, was a good enough response in your mind. There was nothing you could say that wouldn’t leave a door open for more. No matter what you told him it would either crush his heart or give him hope.

You didn’t dare do either.

Instead, you typed something short and to the point. A quick, “ I did. Goodnight, Bucky.”

You haven’t had a good night’s sleep since.

“ Y/n, where are you? I was supposed to be having lunch with Steve today,” Natasha’s voice was suddenly coming from your living room. “ You didn’t answer my calls again. What is going on?” You rose from your bed and walked in the direction of her voice, slightly thinking you were sleep-deprived to the point of hearing things. You were wrong when you were met with her questioning eyes.

“ Well, you look terrible.”

If this were anyone else, and not your best friend of over a decade, you would have felt embarrassed at the state of not only yourself but your apartment as well. There were used dishes littering your coffee table and clothing items spread across the floor. As for your state, it was Wednesday and the last time you showered was before the date with Bucky. Since then, you had been wearing a blue set of satin pajamas that now held strains of evidence of all the takeout you had been eating since. You didn’t need a mirror to see the tragic state of your hair.

“ I told you, I’m sick. You shouldn’t have come. I’m going to get you sick too,” you tried to sound as convincing as possible, throwing in a couple of fake coughs and straining your voice to make it sound hoarse. You cursed yourself from the past in your head for giving Natasha a key to your apartment.

“ You almost had me there, Y/n. Unfortunately, for you, the squad showed up at our office to brief us on a new case, and guess who was staring at your empty desk the entire time like a wounded puppy?” You couldn't meet her eyes when she spoke and instead plopped yourself down on your couch. Natasha stood on the other side of it, staring at you with her arms crossed.

“ I think I messed up, Nat.”

“ You think? He practically ran out of the room once the debriefing was over. What the hell happened on Saturday?” She made her way over to you, sitting on the couch across from you. She was waiting for an answer, but it felt as though your throat was closing up.

It’s not that you didn’t want to tell her. It’s more like you physically couldn’t. As if some invisible force was preventing you from speaking aloud the thoughts that had been driving you crazy these past few days. They would surely cement themselves into reality if someone, but yourself, heard them.

Thankfully, this was Natasha sitting across from you. She knows you better than anyone else and knows exactly how to handle you in situations like this. You of course know her just as well, so you were not surprised when she called off of work and grabbed a bottle of wine with a pair of glasses, from your cupboard, for the two of you.

“ There’s no way I’m leaving before getting to the bottom of this.”

After a few sips, the words started to pour out of you faster than Natasha could pour more wine into your glass. Any hindrance or hesitation—gone like that—with a bit of liquid courage in your system. Natasha didn’t say a word nor did she interrupt you at any point. She let you speak until you had spilled everything. You even handed her your phone so she could read the messages Bucky had sent—the ones you didn’t have the courage to read yourself. She scrolled through them, taking a sip of her wine here and there. She was uncharacteristically quiet, and you found yourself biting the inside of your cheek in anticipation. Whenever you gossiped over your usual bad dates she would be filling the silence with laughter and snarky comments. However, this was not just another date. This was a date with Bucky. This means that, as you feared, everything was different.

“ Y/n, I say this with all the love and respect I have for you, but what the fuck did you do?” She raised her voice slightly, confusion etched into her face. You chugged the rest of the wine in your glass to prepare yourself for the conversion you were about to have.

“ Look, I know what it looks like, but I have a good reason.”

“ What it looks like to me is that for months you’ve been complaining about bad dates and sucky men, only to finally go on a good date with a man you clearly have feelings for, and you go and mess it up?”

“ Bucky is not just any guy, Nat. It’s Bucky as in our friend Bucky, who happens to also be our coworker. If we end up being something more to each other and then we break up, it’ll mess up the friendship all of us have. I can’t risk that. I can’t ask you, Sam, or Steve to pick sides when something like that happens. It’s better off this way,” you argued, gripping the wine glass a little too tightly, trying to regain control of your emotions. You didn’t have the energy to cry in front of Natasha while trying to plead your case.

Natasha sighed, her lips in a tight line,” Y/n, you’re joking right? You two have already been something more to each other for a long time now. Please, none of us are blind to how you two favor each other over the rest of us.” You took a second to let her words sink in.

“ Even if that’s true, it can’t happen. Too much would change and it would complicate things.”

“ Things always change and you’re the one making things complicated. Y/n, please look at me,” you turned to her, meeting her gaze, “ I don’t care what Prosecutor L/n wants or thinks is right. The only thing that matters is what Y/n wants. This job can’t become our entire life, we are allowed to live outside of it. Let yourself fall in love and be happy.” Her words tugged at your chest as you took her advice into consideration. Nevertheless, your fear of what could happen could not be swayed.

“ It’s not easy to separate that part of my life. Being a prosecutor is a part of me—a huge part of me. I can’t just set that aside. Nat, I know you mean well, but I think things are better the way they are now. I’ll go back to work tomorrow. I promise things will continue as they always have,” you put your wine glass down on the coffee table, an ill feeling bubbling within your stomach. Natasha let out a defeated sigh, “If that’s what you really want, then I’ll respect that. But I have to tell you that whatever it is you're really scared of, it’s making you let go of possibly one of the best things that could have ever happened to you.” This time her words made your heart sink in disappointment knowing what you were giving up.

She didn’t stay long after that. You chatted about work, the new case, and other frivolous things. Your mind, however, was elsewhere the entire time. Like a broken record, it repeated her words and Bucky’s over and over, almost as if to torture you. When she left, you ended up cleaning your entire apartment to distract yourself from your thoughts. It had never been so spotless.

The next day, you went to work to prove to Natasha, and to yourself, that everything was okay. Nothing had to change and everyone could operate as usual. What you didn’t expect was to be called into the Brooklyn precinct on your first day back. You managed to skim through a few files on your way there to get caught up on the case. Which thankfully, hadn’t really started until today.

You took a deep breath stepping out of the precinct elevator. Walking down the hallway, you were mere moments away from seeing Bucky again and your nerves were uncontrollable. You told yourself it was best to act professionally towards him, but you knew that was easier said than done.

As soon as you walked through the precinct entrance, your eyes scanned the entire room. Your heart skipped a beat when you noticed Bucky in the conference area, looking over evidence with Detective Maria Hill and Detective Sharon Carter. His back was facing you, so he hadn’t noticed you yet. On the other side of the room, Steve was with Sam, having a conversation with what looked like to be the suspect’s attorney. Now you understood why you were called in.

“ Counselor Murdock, back to lose another case?” You asked teasingly. He smiled, a slight chuckle escaping him, “ Not this time. Although, if this goes to court I’m happy it's you prosecuting this case. You’re the only prosecutor whose voice I like hearing throughout the trial. If anything I’m looking forward to it.” Murdock gave you a cheeky grin, being flirtatious as always. You laughed it off, used to him being this way since your law school days.

“ I think it’s time we move things along. Have you spoken to your client yet?”

“ Not yet. I arrived a few moments before you did.”

“ Well then, you should go inside and speak to him. The detectives will join you momentarily. I hope we can have full cooperation.”

“ No promises,” he shrugged, a smug look on his face. Once he entered the interrogation room you turned to Steve and Sam, “ You shouldn’t leave them in there too long before they decide not to cooperate. What do we have on the suspect?”

“ Not much. The suspect, Quentin Beck, was the victim's boyfriend and the last person to see her alive. Her body was found under a bridge not too far from their shared apartment. Initially, she was a Jane Doe found with no possessions on her until we ran her fingerprints and found she was arrested prior for a misdemeanor. He says she went out with her friends and never came home. He filed a police report a week ago,” Sam explained.

“ Sounds like there’s not much to go on. Getting a warrant for the apartment wouldn’t be hard, but the evidence would be too circumstantial. She lives there so, of course, her DNA would be everywhere,” your brain went into prosecutor mode, sifting through mental files of any possible charges.

“ Could you get us a warrant for his car? If he transported the body there has to be some evidence left inside. This guy thinks he’s clever. Never seen someone so calm and indifferent to the death of their loved one. I got a feeling he killed her,” Sam continued.

You shook your head,“ Unfortunately, I need something more than just feelings to convict. I don’t think we have enough evidence to get a judge to sign off on a warrant. You’d have to get him to talk more and spill something. If she went out with her friends then maybe they know something. You can question their neighbors or tenant to see if there were any prior domestic disturbances, but for now, that’s all. We need more to go on than pure speculation.”

“ Carter, Barnes, Hill!” Steve called the rest of the squad over and you tensed up knowing he was approaching. It was easy to stay focused on the job when he wasn’t close. You couldn’t look at him and instead directed your attention to the suspect inside the interrogation room. He looked like the average white male, sort of handsome if you squinted hard enough. However, if this job had taught you anything, looks can be deceiving.

“ Hill, I want you in the interrogation room with me. You’re best with the clever ones. Wilson, Carter, go back to the apartment complex and question the tenant, the neighbors they have nearby, and even the one directly underneath their apartment. Maybe they can tell us if they were as happy as a couple as he said they were. Barnes, I need you to investigate her social media and see if any of her friends posted this alleged outing. Find a way to contact them and ask them what they know. Counselor, I would like it if you stayed to watch over the interrogation. You know how to handle Murdock better than any of us,” Steve turned to you once he was done giving his orders. You faced him, getting a glimpse of Bucky from the corner of your eye. You felt his stare on you the entire time Steve was talking.

“ Of course,” your response was brief, and the tone of your voice was weak. Bucky’s intense stare was clouding your senses. The room suddenly felt smaller, and you wanted to ask Steve who had cranked up the heat.

Steve shot Bucky a quick glance before directing his attention back to you. By the look on his face, you knew he was putting two and two together. All of your friends here were detectives. You wouldn’t put it past them to figure it out. Your clothes suddenly felt two sizes too small.

“ Okay, everyone knows what they have to do. We’ll regroup around noon. If you end up with any new leads you want to pursue, call in and let me know first,” Steve gave the last of his instructions, sending everyone off. It took him a second, but Bucky walked away to his desk, which was thankfully the furthest from you. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves. Nothings changed. You repeated these words over and over in your head, to remind yourself—no, to convince yourself they were true. Which was hard when Bucky was staring holes into the back of your head. You could see him vaguely behind you through the reflective surface of the two-way mirror. It took everything within you not to turn around and lock eyes with him.

After watching the interrogation for about forty minutes, you ended up with the same conclusion as Sam. Quentin Beck was guilty—he had to be. There was no proof yet, only the gut feeling you and Sam had felt, however, you knew deep down he had killed his girlfriend. As you listened to him speak you realized he was the kind of man who with one look made the hairs on the back of your neck stand. His eyes were the muddiest shade of blue, lifeless and cold. You didn't believe for a second he was ever in love with the victim. There was a moment you could have sworn he look through the two-way mirror right at you. You hated how intimidated you felt at that moment.

If it was the last thing you did, you would make sure this man would rot behind bars for the rest of his life.

Nothing new was learned from the interrogation. Steve and Maria came out of there, letting the hard look on their faces fall into defeat. Anytime they almost caught Quentin slipping up, Murdock was there to save him.

“ Counselor, I think it's time you take a turn. Murdock is giving us a run for our money,” Maria suggested, glaring at the two men inside the room.

“ She won’t have to. Look,” Bucky rushed over to where the three of you were, tablet in hand, to show you all something, “ See these videos? The victim's friends sent me these from the night they all went out. The suspect dropped her off and picked her up from the outing. He’s lying about her never going home. And see this?”

Bucky’s hand slid back and forth on the screen showing two screenshots of two different cars with two different license plates. You were too engrossed with the wickedness of the details you hadn’t noticed Bucky was standing next to you until his arm brushed up against yours.

“ They’re two different cars, that bastard. He picked her up in a different car than the one he dropped her off in. What car did he drive here?” Maria’s teeth were gritted. “ I checked the cameras and there’s a match for the first car he drove parked next to Carter’s,” Bucky showed another screenshot of the same car as the first, parked in the precinct parking lot.

“ Counselor, is this enough to get us a warrant?” Steve asked you.

You considered the evidence before speaking, “ This is more than enough to get a warrant on both cars. Although, it’s better if you send all of this to Romanoff. She’s closer to the judge’s chambers and can get you a warrant faster than I can. If you stall him long enough, you’ll have the warrant and the crime scene unit here to investigate the car before your time to question him is up. We don’t want him erasing any evidence,” you suggested.

Steve agreed, “Barnes, call Prosecutor Romanoff and give her all the information you have to get that warrant. Hill, go back in there and give him another round of questioning, maybe some paperwork to file. I have to make a few calls before I go back in. Counselor, I think we’ll be okay for now, but I’d appreciate it if you could deliver the warrant to Murdock himself. Something tells me if you give it to him, he’ll go easier on countering it.”

You nodded your head in agreement, feeling Bucky step away from you and shooting you one last glance before going back to his desk and doing as ordered. Maria went ahead and reluctantly made her way back into the interrogation room. Steve was standing there quietly, a pensive look on his face. There was clearly something on his mind, and you dreaded knowing exactly what it was.

“ You and Bucky, is everything okay between you two?”

“ Everything’s fine.”

“ Things don’t seem fine.”

“ They are. It’s all fine. Everything’s fine.”

The look Steve gave you let you know he wasn’t believing a word you said. However, he didn’t push it, merely sending you a sympathetic smile with kind eyes that made you want to confess everything. Steve wasn’t Natasha though. Steve was Bucky’s best friend and you didn’t deserve to be consoled by him—only hated. You broke his best friend’s heart and if he didn’t know, he would know soon enough.

Maybe Natasha was right. Maybe things always change anyways.

But in this case, it was okay, because at least in this case you were the bad guy. You were the heartbreaker and everyone can hate you. No one has to pick sides because you made it easy for them to choose Bucky, and you were okay with that.

You had to be okay with that.

“ Anyway, you have Captain duties to get to, and I have a lot of work to catch up on after the whole fair—flu thing,” you cleared your throat, stopping yourself from saying anything else. If Steve had noticed your slip-up, he didn’t acknowledge it. You let him know you would be back to hand the physical warrant to Murdock. You then excused yourself to make a quick getaway out of the precinct.

You speed walked out into the hallway that led to the elevator. You knew it was a comical sight how fast you were booking it out of there, but you didn’t care. You begged Natasha in your head to keep Bucky on the phone just long enough for you to slip out.

Unfortunately, for you, the phone call was already over.

You heard his footsteps before his voice, “Y/n, we need to talk.”

“ Sorry, Bucky, I can’t right now. I’m behind on paperwork and I need to get to the office as soon as possible,” you dismissed him, thankful the elevator doors were already open. A few officers were getting off, giving you the chance to quickly slip in without waiting.

Bucky, however, was also quick and moved his hand in between the elevator doors so it wouldn't close, “ You can’t even give me a minute? I don’t even deserve that?” The pain and disbelief in his voice were unbearable to hear. You stared at his feet, not being able to meet the eyes you knew would match the emotions in his voice.

“ Bucky, I really can’t talk right now.”

“ You can, you just don’t want to talk to me. You can’t even look at me.”

The tone in his voice froze you in your spot. It was foreign and angry. Bucky had never directed that kind of tone your way. A tone you could only associate with hatred. Something you had previously established was okay. If all your friends could hate you for hurting Bucky, then Bucky had every right to hate you for hurting him. He deserved so much more than you. He deserved to be with someone who wasn’t so conflicted about being with him. Maybe if he hated you too, everything would be much easier to get through.

Before you could respond or Bucky could say anything else, another group of officers stepped into the elevator, causing Bucky to remove his hand. The officers sent you quizzical looks as one of them pressed the ground-level button setting the elevator in motion. You were shakily gripping your briefcase, watching Bucky’s feet disappear as the elevator doors closed.

It’s okay Bucky, you can hate me. You thought to yourself, as though somehow being able to transmit this to him.

The next few weeks were agonizing. You and Bucky avoided each other at all costs throughout the entire case. If he came by the office he was never alone and all his questions were addressed to Natasha. He wouldn’t so much as glance your way and you understood why he was so hurt when you wouldn’t even look at him in the elevator. To have somebody who meant the world to you, who made you feel seen, act like you no longer existed was as if you were dead to them.

Maybe you were to him now.

The last time he ever spoke to you was after Quentin was arraigned and his bail was posted. Natasha made you go to the precinct to collect copies of witness statements. You were annoyed, knowing Steve or any other detective could have sent those copies digitally or even faxed them. It wasn’t until you arrived at the precinct and saw only Bucky was around that you realized this was a setup.

“ Hey...I came to get the copies of witness statements Nat called in earlier saying we needed,” your voice was stiff as you stood awkwardly by Bucky’s desk. He had been typing away at his computer before you approached him, and wasn’t showing any signs of stopping at your arrival.

He clenched his jaw, nodding slowly, getting up from his desk and going into Steve’s office. You took a step forward only to stop yourself, knowing it wasn’t a good idea to follow him in. He clearly wasn’t in a good mood at the sight of your presence.

He came out of the office moments later with a stack of manila folders in his hands. He handed them to you, “ Here, this should be everything you need.” His tone was distant and professional. You grabbed them, the apprehensive tension between you two threatening to suffocate you. You managed to mutter out a small thank you before leaving.

Neither of you looked at the other during that last interaction.

Steve, Sam, and Natasha tried talking to you about the situation—well more like Steve and Sam tried talking to you, and Natasha lectured you—but, you never gave them any real answers or explanations. You knew where they were coming from, but any brainpower you had left was dedicated to the case. You poured every waking hour into it to distract yourself from everything else. This worked incredibly, although it also brought on a foreboding feeling for when the case was over. Once you reached the finish line, it would be hard to ignore the obstacles on the other side of it.

This was the complete opposite of making things easier for you. In his absence, you realized how much you truly missed him and how comfortable you had gotten with his usual presence. This was the first case where you didn’t have late nights working on paperwork, and days going out to the field together to investigate. Natasha and you typically did your work separately which made it easy for Bucky, in previous cases, to come in and partner up with you at any opportunity.

You especially felt his absence when it came to rehearsing your opening remarks for Quentin Beck’s trial. You always did this with Bucky, but now he wasn’t here to give you pointers and reassuring words. He wasn’t here to comfort you and let you know you were going to do great. There was a moment when you were a click away from calling him the night before the trial but decided against it knowing how unfair that was to him.

No, instead, you had your bedroom wall staring back at you as you practiced your opening speech.

This was the loneliest you had ever felt.

On the day of the trial, you went over your notes with Natasha before it commenced. You dotted all your i’s and crossed all your t’s. You couldn’t afford to let Quentin Beck slip through the laws of justice over a technicality. He had murdered his girlfriend out of spite and jealousy, and thanks to the best detective team in Brooklyn, you had all the evidence to prove it.

Your opening went smoothly. The jury was immediately entranced by your persuasiveness—you even saw a few of them cry. This was good. As long as you continued to show them the monster Quentin Beck was, the easier and faster they would convict him.

Like any other trial, you and Natasha spilt the witnesses in half. Natasha was better at intimidating anyone on the stand, while your strong suit lay in appealing to the jury. Any emotionally packed moment was one you delivered. Any moment someone needed to be put in their place, there Natasha was. That is how the rest of the trial went.

When Quentin Beck was put on the stand, the tension in the room became palpable. Already the jury hated him, and his nonchalant demeanor did nothing to help. His eyes would glance over the room and every time his eyes met yours, you had to do everything in your power not to visibly shiver. After the brutality of the evidence of the victim’s murder was discovered his eyes became to you nothing short of haunting. In them lay a storm that was waiting to ensnare you and drown you. You couldn’t shake the discomfort they brought you when it was time to give the closing arguments.

You were good at thinking on your feet, so closing remarks always came effortlessly to you. It’s the same as always working on homicide cases. Humanize the victim as much as possible to the jury. Remind them the victim was a daughter, a cousin, a friend, and to many others so much more than that. Remind them the defendant was a cold-blooded killer. The one to act as the judge, jury, and executioner to the victim. Matt was trying to get a third-degree murder charge, while you and Natasha were gunning for first-degree.

The entire trial is important to the jury. They have countless notes to look back on and read over to refresh their memories. However, it's the closing statements that always stick with them the most since it'll be the last they hear from either side. You were great at closing the case, but you had to admit, Matt was damn good at it as well.

You made a dire mistake upon giving the final speech. In a moment of accusation, you pointed to the defendant, and let those same lifeless eyes intimidate you for a split second. It was quick, and yet that was all it took to feel like you were drowning again. To play this fear off you took an emotional pause to gain your grounding. To anyone who didn’t know you, this was a moment of silence for them to reflect on the tragedy of this crime. Anyone who knew you though knew this was a moment for you to catch your breath.

Bucky was one of those people. When your eyes locked as you looked out into the sea of the trial audience he sent you a small smile and gave you an encouraging nod. That was all you needed to knock your closing statement out of the park.

The jury didn't take long to deliberate. The guilty verdict came back in record time.

“ Always a pleasure losing to you, Counselor L/n,” you heard Matt say behind you as he approached you after the trial. Natasha was a few feet away talking to Steve and the rest of the detectives. No doubt planning the usual celebration after a successful case.

“ You know, when you say it like that you make it sound like you lose on purpose,” you countered teasingly, packing up your stuff. Your goal was to sneak out of the courthouse as quickly and as quietly as possible.

He chuckled, “Never. Ever since law school you and I have gone back and forth with wins and losses. Maybe more losses on my part than wins.” This brought an amused grin to your face,“ So you admit I’ve always been a better lawyer than you?” This made you both laugh. After the last few weeks of feeling as though the world was crumbling down on you, it felt nice to bicker playfully with an old friend. It certainly made the air easier to breathe.

“ Walk me out?” You asked him. In response, he extended his arm out for you to grab onto to ‘guide him gracefully out of the building,’ as he put it. You rolled your eyes knowing very well he could navigate the courthouse halls better than you. Nevertheless, you linked your arm with his and walked out amongst the crowd of those who had attended the trial. As you were leaving you could've sworn a pair of eyes were on you. However, not wanting to confirm who those eyes belonged to, you ignored them and walked out of the courthouse with Matt. You continued to talk about the past and reminisce the days filled with bar exam study sessions and research essays on the fundamental principles of the jury selection process.

Outside, Matt helped you into a taxi, saying goodbye before parting ways. You were heading home wanting nothing more than to give yourself a long bath and maybe a nice nap. Anything to wind down from the stressful trial. Your usual method of stress relief after a trial was a fun night out with your friends, but of course this time it would be different.

You were getting fed up with different.

Your mind wandered back to Bucky’s encouragement during your closing. Even after everything Bucky was still caring and looking out for you. Guilt and shame were once more having a fight within you to see who could feast off of you more. Before you could lose yourself to these emotions, a call interrupted them.

“ You’re not coming are you.”

“ I will. I’ll take a taxi later.”

“ You can lie to everyone, Y/n. Even to yourself, but you can’t lie to me.”

She was right as usual.

“ I can’t go, Nat. I have tons of stuff to do. I have to prepare some final motions and other paperwork.”

You wished the ground would swallow you at this very moment.

“ You’re scared of things changing, but can't you see they already did?”

Again, she was right as usual, hanging up on you as you arrived outside your home feeling your world start to crumble again. Any sense of normalcy Matt had given you gone with one phone call.

The rest of your afternoon into the evening was spent giving yourself lots of self-care which consisted of a warm bath and shopping online for things you absolutely did not need. Anything to help you feel better. You tried convincing yourself it was okay for things to be different now. It was hard to pretend you didn’t care when in reality you cared way too much.

As midnight approached, you poured yourself a glass of wine to celebrate your trial win. “ Congratulations on another win, Prosecutor L/n,” you mustered as much fake enthusiasm as you could, and attempted to take a celebratory sip of wine, but found yourself fighting off tears instead.

Correction, this was the loneliest you had ever felt.

Your pity party was cut short by a knock on your door. You looked over at the time, fifteen minutes till midnight, and wondered who it could be. You knew at least it wasn’t Natasha since she would've just let herself in with her spare key.

You tiptoed over to your door and checked the peephole almost knocking your head against it in shock. Bucky was on the other side holding something in his hands. Your hand shot out to the doorknob, rattling it for a second, but you couldn't find the strength to open it. As a prosecutor, confrontation naturally comes to you. You found yourself surprised to know this wasn’t the case with Bucky. To face him and your actions these past few weeks was more anxiety-inducing than when you took the bar exam many years ago. Which was saying something since you threw up twice the morning of your bar exam.

At this point, you didn’t open the door not because you didn't want to, but because you physically couldn't. Your sweaty palms had a hard time twisting the lock off the door.

“ Y/n, you don't have to open the door, but please just listen.”

His voice was hesitant and slightly muffled on the other side. He seemed to be walking on eggshells around you and wanted to choose his words carefully. You didn’t blame him as you avoided him as much as he had avoided you. You more so than him if you were honest.

“Okay,” you whispered loud enough for him to hear. There was so much more you wanted to say, but once again in the presence of Bucky, you were rendered speechless.

There was a slight shifting sound on the other side of the door before he spoke,“ Look, these past few weeks I tried really hard to push my feelings away, but I was only getting more frustrated with myself. In pushing my feelings away, I pushed you away and I don’t want that. I miss you,” his voice broke toward the end and he paused before continuing,“ I want you—no, I need you to be a part of my life even if it's just as friends. Y/n, don't think for one second I regret taking you on that date because I don’t, but I can’t keep going on acting like we don’t know each other anymore.”

Your hand on the doorknob tightened as you blinked a few years away. You wanted to tell him that despite how it all ended that day was from a handful of days where you experienced the beauty of romance. To recognize it as such made your chest ache with longing, but it was the truth. It was cliche and yet, it was the first time you understood what it meant to feel sparks when kissing someone. It was a foreign sensation you wished the universe would give you the chance to feel again.

This and so much more were the things you wanted to say to the wonderful man on the other side. You were hesitant, however, to speak, afraid even one syllable would sound incomprehensible with the emotions you were trying to keep in control. Instead, you rested your head on the door and tried to calm down your racing heart. Maybe if you managed to do that you could say something—anything, to ease the pain for both of you.

There was rustling on the other side of the door and you wondered what he was doing. “ Today, when I saw how you were able to smile and laugh around Murdock, it reminded me of how we used to be. And I realize we might not have that again, but I’ll try to get back to a place like that. All I ask is for you to be patient with me because what I feel for you isn’t something that leaves from one day to the next, but to respect your wishes I’ll try. It’ll kill me, but I’ll try.”

Bucky’s words ripped your heart right out of your chest. If he said anything after that you wouldn’t know, your mind was no longer in the moment. It was racing a mile a minute grappling with what you wanted and what you thought you wanted. You tried convincing yourself for weeks that all you wanted was to go back to normal with Bucky. To have his friendship in your life because that would be enough. It wasn’t until he said he’d try his best to get rid of his feelings for you that you realized being just friends was never going to be enough—not anymore.

You stepped away from your door when the realization hit. What you felt towards him now was entirely different than the small crush you had on him when you first met. In all this time of getting to know him, he had wedged his way into your heart and found a permanent spot there. There was only one word that could summarize why in his absence it felt like a part of you was missing—it was love.

You were in love with Detective James Buchanan Barnes.

You got a taste of what it was like to be lovers with him and you knew no matter what you tried to do, nobody else could satiate what Bucky had awakened. A part of you was still scared of what could happen if things went south, but the fear of closing that door of being something more with Bucky was greater than the consequences that could happen in the case of a conflict of interest. You felt immensely stupid for not realizing this sooner.

Before your mind drove you any crazier, your body took charge and swung your door open. Bucky was used to your incoherences, so at least he would be able to string together some parts of what was about to spill from your mouth.

This was cut short as you were met with no one on the other side of the doorway. Bucky was gone. He must have said goodbye and you didn’t hear it over the back and forth in your head.

You took a deep breath surprisingly relieved. As much as you would love to chase after him in your pajamas at midnight in the Brooklyn streets, you didn’t want to seem like a mad woman. Instead, you used this as an opportunity to collect your thoughts and prepare yourself for pouring out your heart to Bucky tomorrow. He had done the same, and you rejected him. There was a possibility you had to prepare yourself for him to do the same. You felt as though he had every right to after how you treated him.

Before you closed the door, you noticed there were two things on the ground Bucky must have left for you. One, a bag of takeout from your favorite restaurant which made you realize you completely forgot about dinner, and two, the teddy bear from the night of the fair. Your heart burst at the sight. You bent down and grabbed the teddy bear delicately as if it were a small child and hugged it.

It smelled like funnel cake and a happier time.

You brought in the takeout, never letting go of the bear. You couldn’t tell if the empty feeling in your stomach was from your lack of eating dinner, or from the guilt that was still making its home there over your treatment of Bucky. He deserved so much better and maybe he had realized that.

Maybe that’s why he said he’d get rid of his feelings for you.

You shook the doubt away, exhaustion taking over your body. You put the takeout in the fridge, not having the appetite for anything right now. You decided you would wake up early in the morning and make Bucky some freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. He loves when you bake a batch and bring them down to the precinct. He always said they were his favorite—now if that was because you made them or they actually were his favorite, there was no way to know.

The cookies were to sweeten up your apology, which was a long thought-out one you wrote in the notes app on your phone before going to bed. It could honestly rival any speeches you had ever given in court.

You fell asleep that night with the teddy bear in your arms.

Your idea to wake up early in the morning to bake cookies was a good one—if you hadn't overslept. In the midst of Bucky’s surprise visit, and writing him an apology, you forgot to charge your phone and set your alarm. So instead of waking up at six as you intended, you woke up at ten. Thankfully, since you just ended a big case there was no urgency to be at the office bright and early in the morning. Even though a bit rushed, you still baked the cookies and got ready as usual. Although, this morning you noticed you felt a bit more self-conscious about your appearance.

What does one wear to confess your feelings to someone you already rejected?

Is there an outfit that conveys I’m sorry, better than you ever could?

You wouldn't know.

You were able to charge your phone halfway before heading out. You packed the cookies in a red tupperware container sticking a post-it note at the top that read: For Bucky <;3. You gave the teddy bear a goodbye wave as you exited.

You decided against taking the subway today and got a lift from a taxi instead. You sent Bucky a quick text to let him know you needed to talk to him and if you could meet up with him at the park closest to the precinct. You knew his lunch break was coming up, so you hoped you could talk to him then.

As soon as you sent the text your phone rang, your heart skipping a beat. There’s no way Bucky read that message that quickly.

You were right. It wasn’t Bucky calling you, it was Natasha.

“ Hey, Nat. Sorry, I overslept, but I’m close to the offic—”

“ Y/n, where are you?” There was a hint of panic in her voice.

“ Heading to the office...” you trailed off an uneasiness crawling its way up your spine.

“ Tell the driver to go to Stark Hospital. There’s been an accident.”

You froze,“ Natasha, are you okay? Is everything okay? Are you hurt?”

“ It’s not me, it’s Bucky. He was in a car accident.”

The cookie container fell from your lap. You don’t know how you managed to find your voice to tell the driver to take you to Stark Hospital, but you did. A few blocks away there was a traffic jam, and the desperation to see Bucky and make sure he was okay was more than you or the driver could bare. You paid the driver and rushed out of the taxi, maneuvering your way through the rest of the cars until you reached the sidewalk. You continued to run from there.

Three blocks away.

Bucky was fine. He had to be fine.

Two blocks away.

Please, Bucky, for the love of everything, please be fine.

One block away.

Bucky, I can’t live without you, so please be fine.

Out of breath and barely able to see from the tears obstructing your vision, you made your way into the emergency room. You looked around the waiting room but saw no familiar faces. A nurse noticed you and came over.

“ Ma’am, who are you looking for?”

“ James Buchanan Barnes.”

“ He’s in the back in room seven, I have to first—wait, you can’t just go in.”

The nurse tried to stop you, but you must have looked at her like the world was ending because her features softened,“ Ma’am, I have to get you an approved visitor's pass. We can’t just have anyone back there.”

“ Screw the visitor’s pass, that's my fiancé you have back there. I have to see him,” you lied hiding your left hand in your bag in the process, moving past the nurse. You knew she was just doing her job, but the hopelessness you felt at that moment made you desperate.

Despite the nurse's protests, you marched your way into the back of the emergency room where all the patients were. You located room number seven and bolted straight to it, pushing the door open. Bucky was sitting on top of a hospital bed, his left arm in a sling, and his face scattered with a few cuts. He jumped back startled by your entrance. Relief overtook your features, finding yourself able to breathe again.

“ I am so sorry for the intrusion sir, but your fiancé was worried and insisted on seeing you.”

You froze in your spot, sheepishly, at the nurse’s words. Right, you told the nurse you were Bucky’s fiancé. Bucky bit his lip amused, “She was, was she? Of course, my doll was,” he extended his right hand toward you inviting you into his arms. You walked over to him timidly, as the nurse excused herself closing the door behind her.

When you heard the door close you embraced him tightly. He winced and you pulled away quickly, “ Oh—sorry, Bucky.” He shook his head, grinning giddily, “ Don’t apologize, I’m feeling better already.” Unamused, you scanned his injuries, “ Are you really? What happened?” At your question, Bucky explained how he and Sam were pursuing a suspect who rammed his car against theirs to stop them from catching him. Sam caught up to him on foot, since the car had been damaged, but Bucky had received the brunt of the hit and that’s how he ended up with a fractured arm and bruised ribs.

“ I’ll lock him up you know. He assaulted an officer, he evaded arrest, and who knows how many traffic violations he committed,” the more you spoke the more upset you became. You didn’t realize you were crying until Bucky wiped the tears from your face, and spoke softly to you, “ I know you will, you’re the best at that. I see it’s true, though. My fiancé was worried about me.” A look of endearment was on his face while yours was flushed with embarrassment. Although you didn’t bother to correct him, wanting to forget you ever said that to the nurse.

“ Well, I was worried. I thought, maybe—no, I don’t even want to say what I thought. I’m just glad you're okay. I actually wanted to talk to you, and say I was sorry and give you, oh no,” you looked down at your empty hands, no tupperware of homemade cookies in sight.

“ The taxi,” you gasped.

“ Give me…a taxi?” Bucky was looking at you delightedly, holding in his laughter.

“ Not a taxi, cookies.”

“Cookies?”

“ Yes, I baked cookies to give to you as an apology. I also had this whole speech prepared that I can’t remember right now. I wanted to say I’m so sorry for everything. For being so stupid and not talking it through with you since the beginning. For turning you down before even really giving us a chance. For letting my fear of what could happen, take control of this situation instead of taking control of it myself and handling it properly,” you were rambling on and on causing Bucky to chuckle before grimacing at the pain, his bruised ribs not appreciating his sense of humor.

“ Now, was this apology decided before or after you found out about my car accident.”

“ Before. Why?”

“ Well I thought maybe all I needed to do was get pummeled by a car to see your pretty face again,” he joked, causing you to laugh,” Shut up, it’s the painkillers talking isn’t it?”

“ God, I missed seeing you smile at me, doll,” he was looking at you like he had won the lottery.

“ There’s something I missed too,” you said sincerely thinking back to how empty you felt without Bucky in your life. You looked down at his injured arm, but he used his good one to lift your chin to look at him. His eyes twinkled, catching on to what you were saying, “ Does this mean I can give up on trying to get rid of my feelings for you?”

You nodded, not knowing what words were enough to convey how you felt. Instead, you decided to show him through your actions—so you kissed him. There they were again, those damn sparks only Bucky could make you experience.

He pulled you in by your waist with his free hand, so you were standing in between his legs. He reciprocated the kiss just as intensely as you had given it. Your hands reached up to cradle his head and pull him in closer—if that was even possible. This time there was no fear and no hesitation as you lost yourselves in the emotions you had been holding back for weeks.

The apologies, the loneliness, the anger, the sadness, the frustration, and everything in between melted away leaving only the love that was blossoming between you two behind.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Lovelies who asked to be tagged: @enchantedbarnes @sebsgirl71479 @xcaptain-winterx @marvel-wifey-86

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ash5monster01 · 16 days

Text

Goes On Chapter Fifteen

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x OC!FemReader

Warnings: 18+, depression, mentions of suicide, heavy topics, eventual smut, slow burn romance, fluff, gender themes/stereotypes.

Summary: Against his best efforts Charlie has to start at a new preparatory school after the tragic events that took place at Welton. The very events that led to the loss of his best friend and getting expelled in the first place. He has no plans to make friends let alone get close to anyone ever again. That is until he meets Evelyn and her interesting group of friends. No matter how hard he tries to push them away he finds it to be impossible. So he caves and in the end learns that life can still be enjoyable even if it feels like everyone is against you.

word count: 2.6k

Fourteen ←→ Epilogue

Masterlist

Welton Academy, VT

4/16/60

It had been four months to the day since Charlie found out about Neil. Not so long ago he had experienced the best four months of his life. To think he had just gone through four months of his worst was mind numbing in a way he couldn’t comprehend. So he let this thought consume him as he took a bus to the ferry and then the ferry to another bus just to be met with the large metal gate he thought he would never have to see again.

He didn’t have to call and ask if they’d be here. He knew they would. Easter wasn’t a big enough Holiday for the parents to pull them out of school. The most they’d have to attend was Easter service tomorrow and classes would be back on schedule on Tuesday. That meant Charlie had all of this weekend to come to terms with what his life was becoming. Come to terms to who he was without Welton or Neil.

Considering he was expelled he didn’t know the proper etiquette for visiting the school. He didn’t care to know anyway so he snuck in, something he had done hundreds of times before and made his way through the empty halls and passing all the familiar rooms. It was weird being back here when he thought it wouldn’t be. That he would always be a part of this school somehow or another. It was still weird to think he wasn’t. This thought scared him as he knocked softly on the safest door.

“Charlie!” Meeks surprised voice squeaked as his eyes widened at the sight of him. Charlie quickly lifted his finger to shush him, pushing him inside as he stepped into the room and out of sight of any teachers eyes. It’s possible he was allowed to visit but based on the terms he left, he didn’t want to bother to find out he wasn’t.

“Hey Meeks” he grinned softly, the happiness of seeing his friend outweighing the sadness burrowed deep inside. When Meeks finally realized this isn’t a hallucination he hugs him quickly.

“Pittsie” Charlie nods at the boy who gapes at him from his desk, standing to hug him as well. Charlie already feels the heavy tears burning against the back of his eyes as he holds his two friends.

“What’re you doing here?” Pitts asks once they pull away and Charlie offers his familiar smirk, one that had become so foreign over the last few months, as he sets his suitcase down.

“Ridge gives their students the entire week off and since my parents figure I’m staying on campus to keep up with my studies, I figured I’d come here. See my best pals” Charlie explains, leaving out the very grave detail he did intend on staying at Ridge, all up until the girl he loved looked at him with eyes as cold as the dead of winter.

“We gotta get Todd and Knox” Meeks starts for the door and Charlie doesn’t stop him, laughing lightly as his red-headed friend takes off on his mission. Charlie hates how familiar and foreign everything around him feels when not so long ago his presence here wouldn’t have been such a big deal. It doesn’t take long for Meeks to return, the two boys barreling behind him just to see if Meeks speaks the truth.

“Holy shit” is all Knox can say when he finally spots him, wrapping his arms around him in a large hug. Charlie laughs at the excitement, hugging him back just as enthusiastically.

“Knoxie, how’s Chris?” Charlie smirks and Knox just smiles, softly shaking his head. He snuck out any chance he could to meet the beautiful blonde girl and risked being killed by Chet Danbury everyday, but man was it worth it.

“Still a dream” he grins, cheeks flushed because somehow he was able to keep his dream girl through all of this. Charlie just smiles back, nodding his head because he knows a thing or two about falling head over heels for a girl now. He’s brought back to reality when he spots Todd who stays standing in the doorway, eyeing him as if he looked away Charlie would somehow disappear.

“Todd, heard you started a revolution” Charlie grins that familiar smile at him and all the times Todd imagined seeing his face again it was nothing like this. Yet to see it in person again felt like being wrapped in a warm hug.

“Ah I learned from the best” Todd says after a beat, waving a hand as if to brush off the sentiment but it doesn’t make Charlie any less proud as he pulls the boy into a tight hug and ruffles the blonde hair on his head.

“Who would’ve thought quiet old Todd would grown a pair” Charlie says when he lets him go, the teasing tone not matching the adoration in his eyes. Not so long ago he thought of Todd as Neil’s quiet roommate and now he was considerably his best friend.

“It was a one time thing, one more stunt and I’m out like you Nuwanda” Todd teases back and Charlie just laughs, moving and flopping onto Meeks bed.

“That’s not a bad thing” Charlie jokes, hands motioning upward as he relaxed against the cushions. It was still a dorm bed but it was better than two buses and a ferry.

“How’s Ridge? How’s the girls?” Knox asks, eyebrows wiggling with suggestion as the boys all begin to settle around the room and catch up.

“Ridge sucks. I’m on track because I didn’t sign up for any sports in time and they made me take it anyway. As for the curriculum it’s the same old boring shit and Dr. J Evans Pritchard” Charlie sneers, thinking of that God forsaken school they stuck him in. Before Keating he might’ve actually liked to go there and experience co-ed but now it was cruel punishment made to diminish his spirit even more.

“And the girls?” Pitts inquires, not missing how Charlie skipped over the little fact in his spiel.

“Fine I guess, my girlfriend is pretty pissed at me right now though” and gasps quickly come from each of the guys around the room as Charlie drops this bomb.

“It’s Evelyn, isn’t it?” Meeks asks, knowing she was the female lead in every story Charlie told when he called. It would be the only thing to make any sense.

“Yes it’s Evelyn” Charlie confirms, rolling his eyes even though just mentioning her name makes his heart soar. Leaving on the bad terms that they did hurt him, but she was still who he wanted to comfort him.

“Got a picture hot shot?” Todd asks and Charlie chuckles, leaning to his side in order to reach the wallet in his back pocket. When he finally frees it, he flips it open to pull out the photos they just recently got back from the Valentine’s dance. How he convinced her to take it he wasn’t sure but he was sure glad they did.

“Wow” Pitts breathes as the picture slips between his fingers and for the first time since Neil’s death a real smirk graces Charlie’s lips. Not a fake one or a forced one, a real one. Pride swells in his chest and it’s the first time he’s had this feeling in a very long time. As the boys pass around the picture of his girl Charlie can’t help but smile at each one.

“Only Charles could bag a chick like that” Meeks says while shaking his head and passing back the picture of the gorgeous girl in Charlie’s arms.

“She’s not a chick” Charlie corrects, slipping the picture safely back into his wallet. “She’s amazing though. Not shy at all and always calls me on my shit. I tried to stay away, I really did. I just couldn’t help myself”

“That doesn’t surprise me” Knox jokes and Charlie glares half heartedly as he looks back at each of the boys.

“How’d you get her to date you?” Meeks asks, curious as to how Charlie actually found a decent girl and not a ditz like the ones he brought to the cave that one time.

“Not sure to be honest, one night I knew she was alone and snuck into her room. Just couldn’t stop myself, she’s the best” Charlie says, mind still stuck on how sweet her kisses are and the taste of her lips.

“Well when do we get to meet her?” Knox eagerly asks, having been the only one of the group to ever actually share words with the girl even if they were brief.

“I don’t know, she’s pretty upset with me right now” Charlie sighs, mind still reeling and trying to wrap around what happened not so long ago. The catalyst to even bring him here.

“What’d you do?” Pitts asks with a snort, picturing the old Charlie doing some idiotic stunt to get him in trouble. If only that was the case.

“You didn’t tell her” Todd suddenly mutters and Charlie’s eyes lock onto his own, sharing a look foreign to the others around him.

“Yeah and she found out. I don’t blame her honestly. She probably thinks I was using her and she knows nothing about me which in a way she doesn’t. Neil was apart of every aspect of my life and if it included him, I didn’t bring it up” the boys realize what they mean in an instant, realization flooding across each of their faces.

“But why, Neil was your best friend?” Meeks says, head shaking and trying to understand the boy in front of them. To be honest none of them have gone as long as they have without seeing the boy before. Maybe things weren’t entirely as they seemed.

“He is my best friend. That’s why I can’t. How do I not only admit to myself but everyone around me that he’s actually gone. I’m all alone now. I’m stuck in that school with no one who understands me and I hate everything about it. I’m no longer Nuwanda, I’m barely even Charlie” Charlie gasps, eyebrows furrowed and heart straining in his chest. The boys watch him, words getting desperate at they come out and Charlie begins to feel that familiar tightening in his chest, the panic rising up his spine.

“You’re not alone Charlie” Todd says with the shake of his head and all the boys eye the two, waiting to see what either one of them would say.

“I am Todd, you guys got to stay here with each other but I was left to grieve on my own” Charlie says but Todd stays firm on his sentence, staring Charlie down with a confidence he never expected to posses.

“No you’re not. You have Evelyn and if I’m not mistaken a few other people at that school. You may not have know them long but four months is enough time to care for a person. I should know” Todd says, words sharp and strong and Charlie freezes as these words sink in. Up until Neil died they had only known Todd four months and he was just as important. So why couldn’t the kids at Ridge be the same.

“Shit Todd, I didn’t mean it like that” Charlie starts but Todd is shaking his head, stopping him short and Charlie waits for him to speak again.

“Just don’t count them out. If you push away every person in your life only because they didn’t know you before Neil then you’re bound to be lonely forever” Todd says and Charlie nods, wrapping his head around the fact that the very people at Ridge he had come to love were more important than he thought.

Not only was Evelyn important to him but the rest were too. Nate was his roommate and the only person he had let close since Neil. Marty was kind, looking out for him any chance he got. Laurie was funny and defended him when necessary. Violet was honest and would tell him the truth when he needed it most. Evelyn was understanding, and passionate about everything around her. They were beautiful people and he had spent so long pitying himself he never got a chance to fully enjoy it. He could see Neil now, almost cursing him for not allowing people close. He was Charlie Dalton for God sakes, a legend who had spent so long pretending he wasn’t.

“Neil didn’t die to kill your spirit, he died because he lost his own. So we should spend everyday making sure we enjoy it. Not only enough for ourselves but him too” Knox says and Charlie tries his best not to cry all over again. He had never looked at it like this, never allowed himself to think about the fact he was wasting so much time waiting for something that would never happen. Neil to come back.

“God I did fuck up” Charlie groans, hands reaching up to tug at his hair and the other boys laugh even though there is a layer of sadness now filling the room that they all figured would never leave.

“No you didn’t, you’re Charlie Dalton after all. You’ll find a way to make it up to her” Knox encourages, hand reaching to pat the boys back and Charlie chuckles, mind already trying to come up with ideas on how to make it up to all of them.

“Maybe but until then I think I just need to spend some time here. Finally let myself heal” he says and the boys nod, understanding exactly what he means. At first it was hard being at Welton without either of the boys, rules becoming more strict and classes becoming harder. Yet after a while it became healing. Classrooms holding memories like a time capsule that comforted them in a way nothing else could.

It was little things. Like learning Shakespeare in class which would remind them of how amazing Neil was in the play. When it was meatloaf for dinner they could eat it remembering it was his favorite. When they scored goals in soccer they could still hear Neil cheering. He was everywhere within the school, a permanent reminder in its walls and even if the memories sometimes hurt, at least somewhere on this earth still held the spirit of him. Welton and this town would forever hold the spirit of him and that was better than any comfort any of the boys had known.

“That’s a good idea, we can hide you in our rooms and go and visit Neil” Pitts voices his excitement and the boy freeze, waiting to see Charlie’s reaction. It had become common for them to visit Neil’s grave but Charlie hadn’t since the funeral. Charlie didn’t even know it was something they did.

“I would love that, even more if no one mentions my presence to Cameron” Charlie responds with his cool and confident tone that for the first time felt right to still have. The boys just laugh, nodding their heads in agreement.

“We can manage that” Meeks says and Charlie grins, sitting up and finally feeling more of him falling back into place. Maybe Nate was right after all, just being here was already healing him. He wished he could stay forever. Thing was, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, life goes on. So he needed to spend as much time as he could, remembering not to forget that.

“Good now one of you needs to sneak into the finks room and recover my stash”

Taglist: @octaviasdread @eden-punk @linmichea1 @pursuedbyamemoryy @mynameisjxlia

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist :))

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sgiandubh · 7 months

Note

Do you have any secret tips for restaurants or cafés for a trip to Paris?

Dear Paris Anon,

I am happy and amused you ask me this question. Happy, because I have been calling Paris home for six years: that means there are places where I was madly kissing a beautiful (and cruel) boy from Bastia, places where I walked at night drunk as a boiled owl with people who are still in my life, places where I regularly went shopping or having an endless coffee with friends and places I was entrusted with, like precious jewels. Amused, because to be honest, Paris is probably the last French destination I could think of for an enjoyable week-end en amoureux (I suppose you want to go as a couple?), right now: it is overpriced as hell (the Olympics are round the corner), dirty and seedy (I was shocked, last time I visited and Manu Macron, my old acquaintance of yore, spoke about parking all the homeless outside of town during the Games 'for aesthetic reasons' - the boy never had a sense of humor, trust me on this one).

I shall give you 5 restaurants and 5 cafés (oh God, why didn't you ask me about Bangkok, instead?). Many of them are on the Left Bank (all of my addresses were there, simply because the closer to the university, the better).

Five restaurants: as it happens in Rome (where the gap is truly tragic), I will try and recommend places where locals go. You will find a menu in English everywhere, but at least try the holy trinity of bonjour, l'addition (the check) et merci. All the Parisian waiters are sourer than the Politburo and insolent as highway robbers, but do not be deterred by their manners. Order away.

Le Relais de Venise - son entrecôte (271 Bd Pereire, 75017). It is not in the center. They do not take reservations. You will be met with a long line of people patiently waiting (Seinfeld style) to get in. They have a minimal set menu (which is always a very good sign: https://relaisdevenise.com/menus/set-menu.php). The waitresses are kind and dressed like 1920's maids. It will be the damn best entrecôte-frites you've ever had (their sauce is a secret). Nothing changed there since 1959. Double check opening times and plan accordingly: you will need a taxi and plenty of time ahead. Almost a bargain for its stellar performance. The London one is a sad spin off.

Le Soufflé (36 rue du Mont Thabor, 75001). An original choice, but oh so good! They only cook soufflés (not exactly a pudding, but a pudding angels must have on a daily basis). Very reasonably priced for Paris (set menus at 40 and 55 euros - https://www.lesouffle.fr/bienvenue/home/menu/). If you want to eat à la carte, I recommend le soufflé Henri IV (cheese soufflé with chicken & mushrooms sauce) : it is heaven.

La Jacobine (59-61 Rue Saint-André des Arts, 75006). You will find tourists in this one, it is always full. Service is impeccable. Do not bother with Le Procope round the corner: it used to be one of my haunts, but this is over. The best soupe à l'oignon (onion soup, notoriously hard to cook) I ever had (yes, they still add white wine!). I would also recommend the magret de canard sauce aux cèpes (duck breast with a porcini mushrooms sauce). I could not find a decent menu, but that should give you an idea - they don't have a website (https://eater.space/la-jacobine). Very reasonably priced, too - and very, very good.

Chez Julien (1, rue du Pont Louis-Philippe, 75004 Paris). This is one of my mum's favorites. It is open only in the evenings, but it is an excellent choice if you want to call it a night, because it has service continu (all night long, wow!). It is more expensive - this is, after all, the Right Bank, so expect prices to go drastically up. This is the only option serving wonderful breakfasts, so I beg you: have breakfast in town at least once, Paris hotels tend to do it on the sad and sorry side (https://www.chezjulien.paris/en/home#menu-en). Pair anything you pick with a glass of Pouilly fumé white wine (it goes with anything, it is that magically good).

Money is no object? Entice the guy to take you at (I am torn, here, to be honest) La Tour d'Argent (19 Quai de la Tournelle, 75005). It is very expensive (like VERY), but it is worth every penny (https://tourdargent.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/09/LTDA-SEPTEMBRE-EN.pdf). You must (it's an order!) order the canard au sang (you will find it on the menu under the entry Duckling Frédéric Delair and it is outrageously priced). But you will never have a chance to see the table show anywhere else (it is served in two times: first the fillet and then the legs and it uses a sort of Medieval contraption, to get the blood out for the sauce) - just a specialty from Normandy, you will not find in Rouen anymore. It is divine. They have been there since 1583. What are you waiting for? (for a less break the bank option, try Le Grand Véfour, near the Louvre - google it, it will take forever to explain why).

Four cafés and a salon de thé (tea parlor) : all are haunts of mine. In every single one of them something very personal happened to me. Consider yourself lucky. On a more practical side, all of them double as excellent lunch options, for a fraction of what you would spend in a restaurant. :)

Chez Carette (4 Pl. du Trocadéro, 75016, but also Place des Vosges, with a nod to C). You will have an exceptional choice of anything you could think of and the same Roaring Twenties atmosphere as in the Relais de Venise restaurant. The chocolat chaud (hot chocolate) is almost perfection (do NOT go to Angelina, on the rue de Rivoli, that is another favorite which went south and not in a good way). The best macarons you will find North of Saint Jean de Luz's Maison Adam (where the story of macarons began in earnest). This is Someone's favorite, but then he always was a Right Bank purist. Service is old school, which means supremely kind, if only a bit on the slow side: you are in France, soak it in!

Les Deux Magots (6 Pl. Saint-Germain des Prés, 75006). On the Left Bank in the publishing houses district. This is my second favorite (there is a first favorite) and you will likely find me on the heated terrace with a cigarette and a newspaper, if I were there. Service is appalling, but you should not mind, I have warned you. Reasonably priced for what and where it is. Breakfasts are mediocre, but still enjoyable and lunch/dinner menus are typical brasserie fare - you are not there for the food, you are there to cosplay Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir and act intellectual and sophisticated and have endless talks about the world's destiny (https://lesdeuxmagots.fr/en/breakfast-menu/). If nature calls, head downstairs with an air of intrinsic superiority and don't forget to pay the grumpy dame pipi (toilet lady), who will give you what you need and look at you like you are the scum of the Earth. Always makes me laugh.

Le Café de l'Epoque (2 Rue du Bouloi, 75001). On the Right Bank, at the end of one of the most beautiful passages couverts (glass-roofed passageways) of Paris. Again, you are there for the supremely dreamy atmosphere, I can only fail to describe. Look on the map for all of these passageways and then get lost in the maze of stamp shops, bookstores, taxidermists and God only knows what else you could think of (or at least add to this passageway the Galerie Vivienne). Usual brasserie/bistro fare, reasonable prices (https://cafedelepoque.fr/en/services). The lemon meringue pies are to die for.

Café Le Rostand (6 Pl. Edmond Rostand, 75006). Steps away from the Luxembourg Gardens, which I crossed every single day to go to the uni. Steps away also from the secret and sublime Medici fountain in above park (oh, the things I did there!). Surprisingly good French fare, the beef tartare is excellent (a rare thing!) and well priced (https://lerostand.fr/carte/ - use Google translate, they don't care for tourists). Service is cheeky. Round the corner, one of the most charming shops in Paris, Parapluies Simon (56 Boulevard Saint-Michel, 75006) - only umbrellas and dandy walking sticks (you can hide a whisky mini flask in one of them, I am told by Someone on the phone, but I think he is trolling us - we love that shop).

The Tea Caddy (14 Rue Saint-Julien le Pauvre, 75005). It's been there since 1928, when a certain Miss Klinklin opened it and introduced the Devon scones to France. It is my favorite favorite (https://the-tea-caddy.com/en/tea-room/) and it is perfect on a rainy day. Steps away from the Medieval church of Saint-Julien-le-Pauvre, one of the most authentic and moving experiences of its kind in a very secular town. The Shakespeare & Co. bookstore is just round the corner. A rare gem of a place.

I could go on and on and on. Three more short tips and you will thank me for it, as alternatives to deceiving mainstream options:

The Musée de l'Orangerie instead of The Louvre. Blasphemy? Intense perfumes come in small bottles. It is breathtaking (https://www.musee-orangerie.fr/en).

Château de Rambouillet instead of Versailles (you will not be able to enjoy it AT ALL). Where else could you find Marie Antoinette's private 'milk bar' (La Laiterie de la Reine/ The Queen's Dairy), a supremely elegant affair, with milk-spouting fountains, built to encourage hygienic milk consumption as an alternative to breast-feeding (she was unable to). Trust me and plan a full day for it (https://www.chateau-rambouillet.fr/en/discover).

La Sainte-Chapelle instead of Notre Dame. I always preferred it to anything else, except perhaps Vézelay (far, far away from Paris). It will shock you, but in such a perfect way (https://www.sainte-chapelle.fr/en). Enough said: I will let you discover. Across the Seine, couple this visit with the Musée de Cluny and tell The Lady and the Unicorn I miss them (https://www.musee-moyenage.fr/en/).

I am not sorry for the length of this post. At all. I hope you will enjoy this modest, but very personal selection and perhaps you will come back and tell me if it was worth something. Bon voyage!

Notre Dame on a snowy evening, Paris 1953

#Anon

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trulycertain · 6 months

Text

Tedium

A study of early game Lora and Astarion, and the absolute mess that was. Developing mostly-good bard Tav/Astarion, with so much arguing. 1.6k.

Lora has always found small, petty bastards boring - the kinds who tried to make her and so many others' lives a misery in the city. They've just got so little imagination. Their excuses are all the same, it's just a matter of scale. Even if they pretend to be misguidedly noble, the self-interest slips through eventually. Evil in stories is grand, elegant, tragic. It has really good tailoring. Evil in real life? It's banal, grey or mud-soaked, and seems to take place in offices half the time, for some reason. Good, that cheap, trite thing in too many stories? In reality, it's a sudden sparkling surprise every time it happens; Baldur's Gate is not a place known for being gentle. People are more beautiful when they do a good thing. The sky is brighter, the grass just a little bit greener.

Astarion is small, in the sense of both generosity of spirit and actual stature - it's not her fault that she's six foot two and that he gets so irritated when she sees something over the top of his head. She's not doing it on purpose. Mostly.

He's incredibly petty. (“Oh, I'm sure she's just a delight at parties,” he says of the druid guard who's stopped them at least twice, thinking they might be refugees. “Refugee? Me? Have they seen this thread? Have I a pair of horns and an air of pathetic desperation? Just because I didn't know that dirt-encrusted branches were apparently ‘in’ this week...” Finger-quotes and everything. Lora might have snorted at that. He catches her; he raises an eyebrow in response, but with the tiniest pleased tilt to his mouth.)

And he's definitely a bastard. He's happy to leave the tieflings to die - happy to leave anyone to, it seems. She has to take a deep breath at that, but there are the pressing time constraints of soon turning into a mindflayer; no wonder he wants to get straight to healers and the creche. Good intentions won't mean much if you turn into a squid mid-fight and end up killing or kidnapping all the refugees anyway. She tries hard to bear that in mind while he sighs melodramatically, as if helping people is an inconvenience that might lead to his breaking a nail, and she glares at him. He delights in a holy relic being stolen - but with something like genuine approval of the tiefling child's bravery, somewhere under all that. And he's not wrong that all this self-righteousness about not interfering in nature is a bit rich when you're very intentionally turning people out to the mercy of raiders. But that's all he's right about.

A small, petty bastard. All that's true, and real. So why does she keep talking to him? Why isn't she bored? Angry, most of the time, and amused, sometimes, but not bored.

If Lora knows one thing, it's a narrative. Retellings wear grooves in the dirt for a reason; it feels like there's a way some stories have to wrap up. She knows exactly how it would have ended if she'd met Astarion before the tadpole. A cruel vampire too well-oiled by half, who seemed to delight in death and blood? One of them would have ended up dead, the other with a twist of satisfaction - his at having survived another day and, as a bonus, shut up a pompous hero type; hers at having taken someone that dangerous out of the world, even if she'd have completely missed the master pulling the strings.

Later, when she realises she's been imagining completely the wrong backstory for him, she thinks of the Grove again. Of being free for the first time in two hundred years, finally able to walk in the sun, and losing it in minutes because your leader ran headfirst into a battle.

Hells, she hates when he almost makes sense. It makes her dust off her moral compass for a quick check.

Still, he meanders up to her - to poke her, to tease and taunt, but sometimes just… to ask questions. Feeling for her weak spots, probably, but there's a cheerful curiosity in his eyes that seems genuine when he asks her how she learned to play the lyre, what her other instruments are. It's a rare moment of peace in between their mutual arguments. He plays it off soon enough with some comment about her being good with her hands and an eyebrow-waggle, but the questions were real. He prods her to see what falls out and she… lets him. If anything, she does the same. And she still isn't bored.

He delights in bloodshed and mayhem; he drinks deeply of death just the way he does of life. She’s caught him laughing under his breath when someone falls to the floor, caught him licking the blood off his daggers when he thought she wasn’t looking - that just got her a red-stained grin and an obscene widening of his arms like he was inviting her to look. He makes jokes about killing gnomes. He makes jokes about killing her, though those are actually funny, and he's right about having to face what will happen if they change; it's best to do it with a laugh. It's also oddly forthright, oddly brave, for a man who's never been forthright in his life. He beams at her when she plays along, like she’s just given him a gift, morbidly pleased at speaking of his own beheading. Death and bloodshed and mayhem, yes.

Except.

Except when she’s watching a young tiefling girl about to be bitten by a snake, or pretending to offer the goblins’ general the tiefling camp on a platter. His eyes harden, in that moment, even while his mouth twitches and he makes amused, contemptuous quips: like he’s waiting for her to make the obvious choice. And even as he makes approving noises at the thought of the goblins’ victory, even as he castigates her for her soppy kindness…

Cruelty would be the obvious, the easy choice. It would be exactly what he expects. It would also be, she’s certain more and more when she feels those red eyes on her, the boring choice. To him, too. Even if he doesn't want to admit it.

She's always had a good instinct for people, so her mentor used to say. It got taught to her early, taught her when a glassing was coming or she was about to get stiffed on payment at a tavern or just how to work a crowd.

Stories in well-worn grooves. Two hundred years of death and desperate self-service and making sure everyone's expendable but you, over and over again. The same narrative shoved down your throat for two hundred years.

The shape of it is there in her mind, sketched out but not detailed yet: he knows cruelty like the back of his hand, partaking and receiving. He can sleepwalk his way through it. There’s a delight when he speaks of it, an amusement in his eyes, but it’s the same as when he spoke of being a magistrate back in the city, it’s all very tedious, lording his power over her, pointed and urbane and far, far too well-rehearsed. The same way she looks over her shoulder and catches him flirting with their companions, incorrigible, a lazy, leering lean closer in his tone even as he keeps walking beside them. There’s real amusement there at getting to play with words, at making them uncomfortable, and yet... I saw you mouthing that one to yourself in the mirror earlier, Shadowheart points out, when he tries a particularly trite line on her. And Lora thinks, Exactly.

He bristles and shouts at her and makes drawled comments about how much of a drip she is. She agrees to find an elderly woman’s missing daughter; behind her, she hears him sigh and not even bother to hide it, the rolling of his eyes entirely audible. They get back to camp and he asks her, “This will take us closer to understanding the tadpole how, exactly?” He hates every minute of it, hates her - but there’s a wildfire in him, searing bright and unrehearsed and fascinatingly real, when he snarls at her and melodramatically turns his back to her and calls her tedious.

She bought it at first, the way he called her that. She was boring, certainly, and he was a self-serving shallow ass - that part was true, even if he was lying through his teeth about so many things. He got to stay because they dearly needed a lockpicker and archer as good as him, and because she was too reluctantly herself to let him turn into a mindflayer alone, even if she should have. As he said that second night: you need someone to put you out of your misery.

And then she realised precisely what it was, behind all the bared teeth and callous suggestions: he’s waiting.

He waits for her to slip and kill someone because it’s easier, or say that he deserved his master’s treatment. She laughs sometimes at his sense of humour - less dark, more Underdark - and takes precisely none of his suggestions. He waits for her to be a humourless paladin type who crushes him underfoot or turns out to be a stiff fraud wearing mail, and she cackles at his muttered observations, happily humiliates the little tyrants they see on the road along with him. The moments their eyes meet and she sees the silent vicious glee in his, too, the both of them knowing pride comes before a very long fall, they almost understand each other. She lies and cheats the false servants of Tyr before killing them anyway, because they were going to drag an innocent tiefling back to the Hells, and sees his reluctantly impressed eyebrows out of the corner of her eye - and then she gives the money to refugees while he sighs. He snarls, I was a slave and waits for her to order him about or step over him; the best she can tell, she treats him just the same. As they keep to the road and he realises that the mask he’s been trying to pry away is just her face, the easy, dulled cynicism in his eyes is starting to be replaced by something else: a confused, furious surprise. Maybe the first surprise he’s had in two centuries.

She’s learned to read him a little better, over these weeks on the road. She’s driving him mad. He’s incandescently angry with and baffled by her in turns. But she doesn’t believe him when he says he finds her tedious.

#astarion x tav #Astarion #astarion ancunin #lora mctavish #Baldur's Gate 3 #Oh god they're a disaster

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kingdom0fcards · 6 months

Text

Noah and His lover.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian/Nicholas Ruffilo

Content warning: implied homophobia, character death, and decapitation (all descriptions are brief)

A/n: I hope y'all enjoy this, maybe I'll make a full story line for this and add more lore to it if anyone is interested in that.

Noah will never know what it truly means to be happy.

To see his love ripped away from him in the same disturbing way every time they meet again makes his stomach churn and his throat close up. His love dying in the most brutal way of decapitation in every life he walks will forever haunt Noah.

His love dying by the blades of many swords and guillotines. His love dying by many hangings gone wrong, freak accidents, and by his own hand at times.

Yet Noah has to watch it happen every time.

He's immortal, a punishment set to him when the town he resided in found him and his lover were together many centuries ago. It didn't help that his lover was the prince or the fact that he himself was a spellcaster of sorts.

So they bound his lover, tying him to the first guillotine he would get wrongfully murdered at. They bound him to a pole, making him watch his lover's beautiful head get torn away from his body as he sobbed and screamed for them to stop.

The townspeople found another spellcaster, forcing the poor man to grant immortality on Noah and force him to forever find his lover, the immortality unable to be reversed unless the spellcaster that granted it allows it. So Noah's stuck in a forever loop of seeing the love of his life die.

He always finds his lover, always, but it always ends the same. Noah will never find his happy ending, nor his lover.

...

Over the years Noah became a kleptomaniac, taking things that remind him of his lover's many lives.

He's taken many items of clothing, storing them in separate boxes with a few other things from those lives. He's taken crystals and jewelry, and as of most recent a tattoo gun.

The tattoo gun sits on his nightstand, forever reminding him of his love that he just recently lost.

It was a dreadful sight... Noah walked into his tattoo shop, hoping to finish the tattoo his love has worked on for a decade at this point, and he saw him as beautiful as ever.

They got halfway done before a robbery happened, the robber running and his lover chasing him out the shop. He left his tattoo gun at his station and Noah knew he was taking that next as he heard a scream from outside.

The robber pushed Noah's lover away, causing him to lose balance and decapitate himself on a rather sharp fence outside the shop. Noah ran back inside sobbing, taking the tattoo gun and leaving with a still unfinished tattoo.

So now he lays in his bed, scrolling through all the accounts his lover has made since social media was made, even the ones that were made centuries ago.

Noah only finds his lover every twenty years, even though he first met him when he was sixteen. He thought he was the most beautiful man ever, his dark hair and green eyes, and his beautiful smile that Noah swears lights up a room. The fact that his hand fits perfectly in his and the way their bodies snap together like a missing puzzle piece finally found.

It's painful, missing his lover. Sometimes they can't even spend enough time together to fall in love. Sometimes Noah only sees him once and awhile before he tragically passes. He hopes the next twenty years is different, he hopes he can avoid his lover's death and live with him forever.

...

Noah truly thought this time was gonna be different.

His lover lasted longer this time and Noah got to admire him longer. Noah got to fall in love again, his lover fell too. He found his lover at a coffee shop and he gained the confidence to go up to him, complementing the tattoos that adorned his skin.

His lover chuckled with a "thanks" and Noah's heart fluttered, asking if he could sit with him. His lover nods and they sit talking for hours in this little coffee shop in Virginia.

That was two years ago, the longest his lover has lasted. Now here Noah sobs, holding his lover's corpse in his arms after a car accident that wasn't his fault. Noah doesn't understand why he has to live and his lover can't. He doesn't understand why he's cursed with this immortality and his lover can't live with him forever too.

After Noah left the hospital he stayed at he immediately went to his lover's residence in this lifetime, taking his lover's prized possession to forever remember this lifetime with him.

He got home and placed the teal bass guitar on his wall, it was a perfect fit around all the clutter of things from his lover's past. He sobs, curled up on his bed and clutching the hoodie his lover bought for him in this life.

He just wishes this curse would be lifted.

#noah sebastian #nicholas ruffilo #bad omens fic #rpf #Nicholas/Noah #cursed lovers au #(i dont feel like putting this on ao3 rn)#cw character death #cw decapitation #angst angst angst #hurt and absolutely no comfort yummy #bad omens fanfiction

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final-script · 2 years

Text

Baby Seb in the Paddock | MSH47

Pairing: Mick Schumacher x Reader

Sumary: Baby Seb's first time in a race, he gives his daddy strength to earn his first points.

Warnings: English is not my first language !!!, Mention of accidents!⚠

It could be a continuation to Baby Seb , but it can also be read independently.

My creative block came at a bad time and that's why I bring you this today.

---------------------------

After long months of waiting I was finally able to return to the Formula 1 paddocks to support my boy. The good and different thing I had this time is that I was no longer alone, but with our little one, who can finally join us today. Maybe we won't be in every race because Seb is still small but we are enough to support Mick.

G- I think Mick will be more than happy for you to join us today. Y/N- And we are very happy to finally accompany Daddy! Speak with baby's voice. Our baby, despite being short months old, was already very curious, since we got out of the car she kept looking everywhere.

Gina and Corinna were my biggest accomplices today, they were helping me surprise Mick, no one but them and some fellow Mick knew that we are here today. Trying to get as little attention as possible, together with Gina and my baby we arrived at the Haas building. C- But look at that beauty. Approaching us and making affections for his grandson. -How are they sweetheart?. I wonder this time.

Y/N- Very good! excited to see daddy. C- oh, believe me there's no time when you're not talking about you, you'll be very happy when you hear you're here. After my little one passed from arm to arm between the two women he returned to me just as Mick's figure walked through the door. She was completely oblivious to the situation around him until Seb's babbling recognizing her father attracted her attention.

Believing he had heard wrong things, he looked in all directions until his gaze turned to our group. Seb was again babbling and Mick reacted quickly to us. M- God, I can't believe you're really here! Y/N- Believe it, we're here to see Daddy! Our little boy stretched his arms and went with his father.

At my side, like me, the women Schumacher, smiled at the interaction of father and son, M- It's still a little bit more to start the race, do you think we can take Seb around a bit? Y/N- I think it's okay, as long as you don't need you for something ? M- I'm done with everything, I just have to go back in time before everything starts.

Y/N- OK, come on. With his free hand he took mine and we set out on our way through the paddock My mother-in-law and sister-in-law this time had decided to stay. On our journey many of Mick's colleagues came to meet our baby, many were delighted with him, and were pleasantly surprised to know his name. We also passed Sebastian's garage where godfather and godson met again.

Obviously there was no shortage of photos of our baby with Mick inside his car. (…) When our tour ended, Mick took us to a comfortable place from which we would see the race and wouldn't be alone as his mother and sister would be with me. As I watched Mick , fit his suit and put on his helmet, the nerves flooded my system, I think it won't matter how many Grand Prix you attend, it's something that will never stop me.

The start of the race was tragic due to some track accidents , but luckily the drivers were able to get medical attention out of their cars, a red flag later, The race resumed and… With every turn the nerves added to their anxiety. To the anxiety the joy, the joy of seeing that as with the passing of the laps, we were nothing to see how Mick was about to get his first points in Formula 1.

And so it was, Mick finished in the eighth position getting his first points. Y/N- Daddy made it my love!!. Embracing even more the beeb in my arms and then my mother-in-law and sister-in-law by my side. I- You can tell them a few words . His engineer said and I immediately approached and spoke. Y/N- CONGRATULATIONS!!! My love, you succeeded, we loved you the joy I felt didn't let me say much more.

M- Thank you my love, thank you, you don't know how much I love you. Her mother and sister also said a few words and then we just waited for our boy to return to the garage to celebrate with the team. Between hugs and congratulations, Mick came to the family, again to embrace him and congratulate him in good condition. M- I definitely love them with me all the time. While still embracing us.

I didn't know if it was luck or not but I was happy to have been present to live this moment.

-----

ANOTHERS

Baby Seb - Mick Schumacher x Reader

The Exact Moment - Pierre Gasly

#mick schumacher one shot #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher fanfic #f1 one shot #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #mick schumacher #f1

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nixie-writes · 2 years

Text

Hazbin Cast Meeting Their Child From Life

I covered all the characters I could think of a good plot for. I don't plan on doing a second part for this, I tried to do it all in one swoop. But if there's any characters I excluded that anyone has a plot for, I'll be happy to do an extra part. Under the cut for length and trigger warnings. Gender neutral terms used, will be tagged. TW: Murder mention, drug mention, sex mention, alcohol mention

Alastor - Up until his death, he'd been very involved in his child's life. He taught them how to hunt, he taught them self defense and he taught them how to kill, if necessary. - He always hoped to never meet them in Hell, admittedly. He wanted them to do better than he did and find their way to heaven. Avoid the whole "sins of the father" trope. - Upon actually meeting his child in Hell, he's happy to see they're okay but he's disappointed. Both because his kid is in Hell with him, and because his kid sees him like this, for the serial killer he is. - But now that he's been reunited with his kid, he's going to make sure they're safe under any circumstance. He knows they can take care of themselves - he taught them everything they know - but he can't risk losing his child for eternity.

Angel Dust - Another dad who was very involved in his kid's life up until his death. Granted, he adopted his kid but they were still his kid either way. Because he was so involved in the mafia and drugs, he was emotionally distant but always supportive of their endeavors, and tried to keep them away from his father. - Angel knew they would end up in Hell admittedly. He led his kid down that path himself, so it was just a matter of waiting. He kept up his mafia work and drug work down in Hell and, as everyone knows, became a sex worker. He met his kid again in less favorable circumstances. - It was a drug deal gone bad with one of Valentino's crime partners. Many of them were shot down and Angel was aiming for the head of a demon in particular, another arachnid demon, and it hit him like a brick. They looked so familiar because this was his kid! - Upon reuniting with his kid he tries to set a better example, getting off the drugs and keeping his sex work on the down low. He isn't really picky about what his kid gets up to in their spare time, just as long as they come to see him from time to time...And stay far away from Valentino. - In the event his kid was gay as well (cis or trans male, or enby with attraction only to men) he'd be over the moon to know he and his kid had even more in common; he'd teach his kid about safe sex and greatly discourage any form of sex work. Of course, matching gay clothes and attending pride parades together, all the fun stuff.

Husk - Unlike others, he lost his kid before he died himself. It's part of the reason he spiraled into alcoholism. When he arrived in Hell he truly believed his kid had been granted mercy and went to heaven, and he was happy for them. - However, before their tragic passing he taught them a lot about gambling, and how to hold their liquor. So it was expected he'd meet them again in a seedy bar. They were double shooting two fireball shots at a table surrounded by other demons, each with a pair of cards, visibly playing Poker. - When he joined to drink and gamble he was surprised to see this demon getting the same drinks he always got them when they were alive, even pulling the same card tricks he taught his kid when they were alive. - He'd casually ask their name and he'd receive his kid's name, followed by him asking if they knew someone by his living name. They'd respond with a fond yes, reminiscing on their father who taught them to gamble, drink and be a responsible adult, lamenting on how much they missed their father...It clicked with them both at the same time. - Having met his kid again he was sad they weren't allowed in heaven but, that was no issue anymore. They were under his wing now, and he'd keep them safe at the cost of his soul. He would also keep them far, far away from Alastor.

Sir Pentious - During life he had a son he'd never met, presumably because the woman he impregnated either left him or was a sex worker. All he knew was that he had a son he never met, and he'd give anything to have another child. In fact, he had a second child he was very involved with, who was always fascinated with his little machines. Until the day he was bitten by a venomous snake and he couldn't get the antivenom in time. - In Hell, he hoped to meet either of his kids. He wanted to believe they both went to heaven but, considering the circumstances of both it didn't seem plausible. But with all the time he'd spent in Hell, he believed he should have met them by now. - It was during that famed turf war between him, Angel and Cherri that a third contender joined, on his side surprisingly. A crafty sinner who specialized in biochemical weaponry. Pentious was immediately impressed by their handiwork. - After the turf war was left as a tie, he approached his new ally and asked for a name...And froze when he heard it. His kid had been very passionate about biological weaponry when he was alive. He dared ask if they recognized him, offering his living name. When they agreed and began listing off facts about him and their relationship he could only grip them in a tight hug, he was so thankful he found at least one of his children. - While he was no Overlord yet, he vowed to keep his kid safe at all costs. Yes they were very capable of caring for themselves, they would have won the turf war had the princess not interrupted. But he still felt a fatherly duty to his child and promised to make up on lost time by putting their skill sets together to create machines and weapons that could easily win them a turf and earn him a place as Overlord.

Vox - In life he was a rich man who didn't have much time for kids, not even his own sole child. They were always distant, even throughout their teenage years and into adulthood. He tried to keep in contact with them when they grew older and could understand the world he worked in but, it was too little too late. He left his entire company and all his assets to his kid in hopes they could do better than he did. - In Hell, he became a very cold man with one priority: money. He'd do anything for it. He'd throw other sinners to the dogs for it. He's done it before. He'd fight other Overlords for a wad of cash. He didn't expect karma to bite his ass so hard. - Swiftly rising in the ranks was an Overlord who seemed just as money hungry as he was, albeit with a much kinder reputation. They had never done a single bad thing to others to earn their money, they even donated some of it to charities and orphanages for Hell-born demons. What was so different about them? - Eventually it came to a stand off. Vox against this sinner. Whoever won, would keep the money and use it as they pleased. Vox was prepared to fight tooth and claw. He was genuinely shocked when they simply stepped aside and said, "you can have it, dad". - He stopped in his tracks. He had one kid in life who hated his guts according to him and he'd never met this kid in Hell, he assumed they went to heaven. He knew this sinner's name but never questioned it until now. He gave a short series of test questions, of which they passed. - "You never had much time for me," they explained. "You were so busy ensuring your pockets were lined and I once despised you for it. But as I grew I learned how harsh the world is, and I understood the sacrifices you made to keep us in good wealth." They ushered him to the wad of cash. "You gave up so much to keep me safe, and I never understood it until I came down here. This is the least I owe you." - Vox genuinely didn't know how to respond. He was reunited with his kid and they had forgiven his cold demeanor during life, but what did this mean for his company and image going forward? They understood his concerns and agreed to keep their family relationship a secret, under the terms Vox donated portions of money to a charity of their choice, which he did. It took him going to Hell to learn to love his kid and now, he could balance his work and personal relations with a child who understood his position.

Vaggie - She died very soon after her kid was born, so her kid didn't really get to know her. They were maybe six years old when she passed. Vaggie's parents took her kid in and raised them as their own, though they never denied who their real mother was. - In Hell, Vaggie always prayed her child would get to heaven and become an angel. She never wanted to see the day her child entered the hotel looking for redemption, or worse, fell victim to drugs and sex. - She was manning the check-in counter one late evening when Angel arrived, a very drunken sinner clinging to his shoulder, in tears about a mother they never got to know. Angel only explained he didn't know where to take this sinner and asked Vaggie to let them stay the night until they sobered up and she agreed. - Through their drunk rambles they described Vaggie in perfect detail. A Latina with long brown hair and one brown eye, the other colorless and blind with a scar running down her face. Vaggie couldn't ignore the similarities and asked for more information, which confirmed the heritage. - Upon ensuring this was in fact her child, her first statement was an apology for leaving so soon. She never wanted to leave them, and was terrified for them. To see them in such a state now broke her heart. She wanted to make up for lost time, but first demanded they get some sleep in preparation for their hangover. - While they slept through the morning Vaggie explained the situation to the rest of the staff. Only Charlie was aware Vaggie had a child prior to death and was beyond excited to finally meet her extended family. They were properly introduced to Charlie who promised to take good care of them, and get them off the booze. - Vaggie knew she wasn't much of a threat herself, but she knew Charlie would always be in the corner to help if they needed it. Her kid would be safe no matter what, they had the princess of Hell as their aunt. - In the event her kid happened to be lesbian as well (trans or cis female, or enby with attraction only to women) she would be the most supportive mother and friend, always attending pride parades and wearing matching lesbian-themed clothes.

Cherri Bomb - She had a child at a young age and fought hard to provide for her kid, going as far as to get involved in organized crime to provide for her child. She died at a tragically young age, leaving her child to her only friend at the time who raised her child to know who their real mother was and to honor how hard she worked to provide for them. - In Hell, Cherri spent a long time heart broken because she was separated from her child. It wasn't until she became good friends with Angel and perfected her work with explosives that she began to feel okay again, but in the back of her mind she always remembered her child. - It would be during a battle where Cherri used high velocity explosives to win a piece of territory that she encountered a sinner around the same age she was when she died. They were timid and terrified of the bombing show and she instructed Angel to take them somewhere safer. When Angel referred to her as her name from life they perked, switching around to exclaim her name. They immediately fell into an info dump about everything they knew about their mother and how hard she worked to keep them safe, ending with a hopeful gaze asking if perhaps she was their mother. - Knowing their name and seeing their knowledge of her it was undeniable, this was her kid. She had hoped her child would find their way to heaven but it appeared they didn't. She and Angel agreed to get them somewhere safe, and later they'd catch up. - Similarly to Cherri, her child would also only have one eye, as they grew up with one thing on their mind: their departed mother.

#Hazbin Hotel x reader #Hazbin x reader #tw murder mention #tw drug mention #tw sex mention #Alastor x reader #Angel Dust x reader #Husk x reader #Husker x reader #Sir Pentious x reader #Vox x reader #Vaggie x reader #Cherri x reader #Cherri Bomb x reader

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wonuumelody · 11 months

Text

“ My universe ” ;

Joshua Hong.

(Joshua's name isn't mentioned in the story, he's mentioned by "the man" "he" "the young man"...)

pairing: joshua x fem!reader genre: tragic end, fluff at first warning/s: mention of su!cide. sad end word count: 656

Synopsis : When a photographer met a painter. When two humans became each other's soulmates.

The young man finally closed his computer, he had already been working for several hours. But tired of working, he decided to go out to the park, his park, their park.

He then stood up, stretching his arms all along and yawning a blow.

He took his coat and put on his shoes without forgetting to take his bag, then left his house towards the park entrance.

The first cherry trees had blossomed and he looked at them with his tired eyes with nostalgia.

He was in the park, the park where it all started, the place where he met her.

It was a spring day, the cherry trees had blossomed and their beautiful pink colours were perfect for photographing. That was the reason why the young man with a passion for photography came out of his lair while his friends had gone to enjoy the beautiful weather.

He walked alone on the small path along the river. As he photographed the river and the greenery, he saw in the lens of his camera a long dress. The owner of this dress was facing the lake, a brush in her hand and a canvas on her knees, her beautiful eyes of exquisite sweetness and her delicate lips displaying a bright smile. And he, admiring her beauty, held his camera, admiring the young woman from her little path.

A few days had passed and the desire of a photographer to see this young woman again became very strong. He wanted to know who she was, he had perceived in her a great sadness and sensitivity. His desire to see her having prevailed, he left home with the hope of finding his angel fallen from the sky.

On that day, we could say, the photographer was lucky, there was a young woman, her beige brush still in her hand. When he saw her, her heart swelled in her chest, with a smile on her lips.

He sat there, facing the lake and the young woman, and without realizing it at once, the young woman had turned her gaze away from the lake, into the photographer's eyes.

The two young people were there, eye to eye, separated by the water of lake.

The photographer was lost and full of emotions mingled in the heart of his stomach.

Their exchange had lasted a few seconds, or minutes, the photographer would not have been able to define it, that moment had seemed to him like an eternity.

This event, which he described as magical, was repeated several times, animating the days of our photographer with a sweetness and serenity.

As time went on, the burning desire to speak to this young woman grew in him, and soon the great shy photographer, caught in a madness that was totally unknown to him, set off to meet his angel.

And it was on that day of spring, that a meeting between two lonely souls took place.

They were complementary, when the photographer was sad, she was there and vice versa. The painter's large eyes and her sweet smile fascinated the photographer. They were soulmates, according to the pretty young woman.

Their many meetings had led to something real.

The photographer felt alive, she was his muse, he was her guardian angel.

But it had to happen. . . One evening, on his way home from the coffee shop where he worked, he found her lying on the ground in a pool of blood.

She had just committed the irreparable.

If only he could have realized it, his discomfort was so well concealed. He blamed her for not telling him, and blamed himself for not noticing.

After that day, little by little, he felt himself perishing, part of his happiness was gone, leaving a bright and peaceful room for a world in chaos.

His world had just fallen apart, his muse was gone.

Remembering all these memories, the boy had a heavy heart and tears in his eyes. While admiring the cherry trees, he whispered a few words with a small voice.

"Whatever happens, you are my universe. »

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #joshua x reader #joshua hong #hong jisoo #joshua svt #joshua fluff #joshua seventeen #wonuumelody #svt fluff #joshua scenarios #svt joshua #seventeen joshua #joshua headcanons #joshua x y/n #sad ending

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itsclydebitches · 5 months

Note

You’re so mean. I’m crying after reading that poor Zevlor specifically about Orin’s gift. Omg that part make me cry. That’s so tragic. Even if I don’t get who is Orin (I’m still at act 1) so mean yet it was so well portrayed my poor heart can’t take it! I must don’t miss him! 😭

It makes me feral, anon! I definitely won’t spoil any more about Orin because she’s a treat in Act 3 but yeah, missing out on Zevlor the second time doesn’t, uh... end well for him...

I might do a followup meta after my 2nd play-through because all joking aside, it is kinda fascinating to me how much Zevlor functions as the narrative’s punching bag. Certainly we have no lack of characters going through The Horrors—which includes all the Origin peeps—yet there’s something about the combination of Zevlor’s past, his place in the conflict, and other characters’ feelings towards him that makes my brain go, “Goddamn what did the man do to deserve this??”

Anyway, until then please accept a happier Zevlor ficlet to make up for the very upsetting meta :D

***

The Feast Pairing: None Word Count: 1,122 AO3

“How are we on rations?”

Zevlor knew, of course. There was very little going on in camp that he wasn’t already aware of. Still, it was either make the rounds and ask rhetorical questions, or pace within the chamber until Tilly threatened to knock him out with the pommel of her sword. Zevlor wasn’t willing to test her resolve in that matter and the others, frankly, were more indulgent—more than he deserved.

Okta smiled, clearly trying to take the sting out of her words. “Well, we’ve got enough for a bowl each, not that a bowl’ll get ‘em very far.”

Zevlor looked down at the gruel, though that seemed such an unkind word for what had been sourced with determination and slow-simmered with love. The concoction was more liquid than oats and Zevlor knew they hadn’t nearly enough milk for that to be the base. Okta was right. His people were subsiding mostly on water and with an inevitable battle on the horizon...

A soft curse suddenly took flight and Okta’s expression hardened—foreign emotions marring her face. “Wouldn’t be so bad if those tree huggers would grow a pair 'a fuckin’ horns and share a bit of what’s theirs.” Her eyes lingered on the storage shed. “Pandirma’s done such a good job guardin’ it for ‘em.”

Translation: She could slip a thing or two into her pockets.

“The druids have given more than enough,” Zevlor murmured.

Okta met his gaze squarely. “No. They haven’t.”

There was no accusation in her words but Zevlor still felt them keenly. Perhaps if he’d had the fortitude to get through to Kagha. Perhaps if he’d found a better place for them to shelter from the goblins. Perhaps if he’d gotten them out of Elturel faster, or done more to lift the city from Avernus. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

Zevlor’s old blade was locked tight in a chest he had every intention of leaving behind, the mark of his God meticulously filed away. Being a Hellrider had gotten him little but despair, so Zevlor reached into his pockets as only a man and retrieved a single, meager offering.

A simple pear, bruised and missing its stem.

“It’s not much,” he said, holding it out, “but perhaps... for the children...?”

Okta’s smile was as soft as any mother’s but before she could take the fruit a shout sounded from above them. Honed instincts and overwrought nerves had Zevlor reaching for his crossbow. It took him too long to register that the sound was one of happiness.

The adventurers. Zevlor watched, stunned, as Tav and two of their companions came down the slope—carefully so as not to disturb the riches they carried. Wyll lead with a basket of apples that put his small pear to shame. The pale man—Astarion—followed with a pack twice the basket’s size overflowing with all manner of foodstuffs: mushrooms, grapes, bread, fish wrapped carefully in paper, and—Gods, was that alcohol? It was Tav that caught everyone’s eye though, the one drawing appreciative hands to their lower back and arms as they passed. No one could pat their shoulder because they had a massive buck slung across them, the beast sluggishly bleeding into their armor.

“Hungry?” they asked, just this side of cheeky.

“How...?” It was all Zevlor could manage. The amount they carried would feed all the tieflings tonight. Tomorrow too. For days if they were careful.

Wyll shrugged. “It's nothing extravagant, I'm sorry to say. Turns out that goblins don’t just eat dwarf and this food would have gone to waste had we left it behind.”

“Because we killed them,” Astarion took up, a manic satisfaction in the words. “Not all of them. Not yet, darling, but given how generous we’ve been of late, I’d be happy to discuss our payment—”

Tav smacked him with the buck’s hoof as they slipped past. “Ignore him,” they said, letting out a sigh as they finally set their prize down. “You don’t owe us a thing, Zevlor.”

“I beg to differ.”

“What are we getting paid for, Astarion? The strenuous act of picking apples beneath an idyllic tree? The good fortune of spotting a lame buck that fell to a single arrow? Oh wait, maybe it’s your stressful day of... what was it? Right, slipping a single vile of poison into the goblin’s beer tub.”

Zevlor suddenly had the sense that Tav was teasing Astarion—and that this was a rare honor few others were afforded.

Astarion sniffed. “I expect to be accommodated for my supplies at the very least. That poison was of high quality and very expensive.”

From just beyond his shoulder Wyll mouthed, ‘It wasn’t’ with a crooked smile.

All the while Okta had been doing a strange little dance, clapping her hands with glee as she surveyed the feast before her. Suddenly she swooped down and planted a kiss on Tav’s cheek, blood and all. They flushed a deep scarlet and hastily stumbled to their feet.

“Thank you,” Zevlor breathed. There were still goblins, and Kagha, and the long, arduous road to Baldur’s Gate, but this? This was a gift that would carry them through.

Feeling foolish, he pressed the pear into Tav’s hand, daring to go so far as to squeeze as he pressed their fingers around the fruit. “Here. You should have something for yourself too.”

Tav blinked, staring down at the offering. For one horrible moment Zevlor considered all the ways his words could be misconstrued. That the adventurers weren’t allowed to partake of their own food. That their efforts—immense by anyone’s standards, let alone his—were worth only a sad piece of fruit. That impulsive act had been worse than foolish; it was insulting.

“What about you?”

That’s all they said though. Honest consideration. Zevlor had to swallow hard before he could answer. He wasn’t even sure what he said. Something about the skin getting stuck in a tiefling’s teeth. Okta shot him a look that was part amusement, mostly resignation. Then she shooed everyone away so she could begin preparations.

They did, in fact, feast that night. Well, perhaps ‘feast’ was a comparative term, but Zevlor would have taken their meal over a king’s any day. He was conservative with his own plate and most of what he did take mysteriously wound up on Mol’s. The child had a knack for slight of hand but it would be several years before she could catch him in the act.

It was when Zevlor finally returned to his bedroll that he found it. Another gift, another offering of friendship, this one warming him right down to his core.

A cut pear rested beautifully on a plate, each slice meticulously peeled of its skin.

#BG3 #Zevlor #BG3 fic #Astarion #Wyll #bg3 tav #sweet messages

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corriganatheart · 1 year

Text

If I Should Stay / Jude Bellingham x reader

Synopsis: Heartbreaking story of two people growing apart after a tragic event strikes their relationship.

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x fem!reader

Genre: 18+, heartbreaking but happy ending

Warning: mention of miscarriage

Groaning from the slight headache, he touches the spot next to him, hoping to feel the warmth he has been missing for months, but he is left with the coldness and an untouched side of the bed. He opens his eyes to be met with a new white pillow and the new white sheets under it. He then sees the telephone on the nightstand, realizing that he is in a hotel, not his bedroom.

Jude shoves his clothes and soccer gear into his duffel bag. He could’ve left yesterday after winning, but he stayed behind and celebrated with the single guys. His teammates that had someone to go home to left immediately and were surprised Jude didn’t join them, but they all turned an eye after seeing Jude’s reaction.

It wasn’t news that his relationship with you was falling apart; his teammates weren’t buying the endless excuses for your recent absence. You used to be two peas in a pod, always together, and seeing you not here can only mean there was trouble.

Jude stares at your name on his phone; it is still listed as “LOML💞,” despite the recent trouble in your relationship, he still doesn’t have the heart to change it. He looks at the text he sent you last night telling you that he’ll be home tomorrow, and by now, you must’ve seen the videos in Mat’s Instagram story of him partying. Despite that, you still sent him a congratulatory text without any additional prizes like you usually would in the past. He could’ve at least gotten a photo, but that was too much and selfish of him to ask. Jude groans and starts typing a good morning text, but in mid-sentence, he deletes it and decides to shut his phone.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, barely recognizing the person staring back at you. It has been five months since the accident happened, yet you still haven’t forgiven yourself. Your closest friends have tried to help you by setting up lunch dates or sleepovers, but you keep bailing out last minute. You felt terrible, but you felt even worse about what you’d done.

After your morning hygiene routine, you made breakfast and sat alone in the living room with the news on. You weren’t paying attention, though; instead, you were staring at the text messages on your phone screen. Jude sent you a goodnight text last night, but you didn’t respond; you hearted it. The tension between you two was only getting worst, and despite the many times he tried to make conversation, it only ended with a heated argument. After that, you assume Jude has entirely given up because now you guys barely look into each other’s eyes and divert them whenever you are in one another’s presence.

Jude doesn’t know why you haven’t left or why he hasn’t left. It has been five months of constant arguments, and it was taking a toll on your health and his career. He doesn’t remember the last time he got a good night's sleep because he was always up thinking of you and how you were feeling. There were nights when he would hear you cry beside him, but he was too numb to comfort you. And you must have grown to hate him more because you don’t sleep with him anymore but silently move into the guest room.

He sighs as he opens the door to your shared home. The house was cold, and empty. There was no sign of your presence, but the mug on the coffee table answered his question; you must’ve heard him pull up and run to your bedroom. Jude stared at the guest bedroom; the light was on, and despite wanting to knock and tell you that he was home, he forced himself to turn and go into his bedroom. After what seems like ten long minutes of sitting against his door, he heard your footstep tiptoe to the living room, and the sound of a cup getting grabbed was heard. Jude didn’t open the door to see you…nothing was changed.

You look at the picture in your hand; it seems like just yesterday, you received it. Staring at it alone in the cold dark room made you think about that morning in the bathroom. Jude had already left for his morning practice, and you were in the bathroom, walking back and forth. You hadn’t gotten your period that month, and that wouldn’t freak you out if it weren’t for his birthday weekend. You and Jude were very careful about using protections because you guys didn’t want to risk getting pregnant. But his birthday weekend was so perfect, and you wanted to give him everything he begged for, which was to have raw sex. He promised to pull out, but it was in the heat of the moment when he changed his mind. Of course, he had expressed wanting to start a family with you, but that was far from that day. Jude’s career was still just at its peak, and you were still in college.

Your eyes start to water when you think about what happened that afternoon. After seeing a positive sign on the pregnancy test, you immediately contacted your private doctor and drove to her office. After doing an ultrasound, she confirmed your pregnancy with a candid photo. You cried the whole way home, thinking of how this could affect Jude’s career and your future. You two were too young, and the pressure and criticism would be pouring in every way. So for the rest of the day, you made the excuse that you’ll be having a sleepover at your best friend's house and never told Jude about the pregnancy.

The weight was heavy on him as he stared at your door. He was sitting on the floor, head against the wall staring at the white wooden door like a madman. Jude knew you wouldn’t be coming out of that dark, cold room, and that was precisely why he was on the floor, head and back, leaning against the freezing wall. He thought back to the day when you two met at one of his games. Dortmund was playing against PSG, and you were a Neymar girl. You wore his jersey with his number painted on your face; you were a proud fan. He smiled, thinking of your first interaction with him. You were lost and looking for a snack machine, and Jude was doing the same. Coincidentally you guys found the same vending machine, and both wanted the last remaining chips in there. He remembered the look on your face when you saw the practice jersey he was wearing; he had never seen someone look so disgusted. Jude didn’t take offense to that because he was used to it, but he did find it amusing that a girl much shorter and smaller than him was intimidating. Looking back, he thought you were beautiful when he laid eyes on you despite you wearing his opponent’s gear. He even found your attitude attractive when you glared at him for getting the chips you wanted and watched your back as you sassily flipped your hair and walked away from him. The whole game, Jude tried not to stare when you screamed Neymar’s name because you were in the front row. And he tried not to take offense when you glare at him the whole game every-time he took the ball away from Neymar. For some reason, he wasn’t as aggressive but was finding the game amusing because of your reaction to his moves and goals. Jude didn’t realize he really wanted you until he scored the winning goal and pointed at you, dedicating the winning goal to his rival’s biggest fan. But the shock on your face made it all worth it.

Jude sighs, slightly smiling at the memory, but his smile fades, realizing it was just a memory.

You didn’t realize how harsh you were on Jude until you looked at the empty Snapchat memories from the last five months. There was nothing, nothing at all. You remembered the day Jude finally found out; it was three weeks after your discovery. You two argued about your lack of interest in his recent games and the rumors that were going around. Jude was caught up in a dating rumor with an Instagram model who happened to be at the same restaurant that his team happened to be celebrating, at which you failed to show up again. Looking back, it was merely a worthless rumor because the girl denied it the next day and posted her boyfriend. But it didn’t fix that you lashed out at Jude that night, and he yelled back, saying that you don’t trust him and that you must be cheating instead because you have been distant. The argument put so much stress on you that you bled the very next morning. You still remember the horrified look on Jude’s face when the doctor said that you had a miscarriage, and you will never forget the pain in his voice when he cried to you.

Jude placed his head on his knees while thinking of your broken face the day you were discharged. The doctor has given him advice and guidelines on coping with a lost one. He was the only person you got at the moment, yet he felt worthless. He wanted to pull you into a hug when you stared at the sonography with a blank expression, but he was afraid you’d push him away. Jude couldn’t get rid of the image of you screaming for help while the sheets under you were covered in blood. He would never be able to forget the look on your face when the doctor said you had a miscarriage. It was truly dreadful, a broken girl that had something ripped out of her because of her own boyfriend. And when the doctor said you were a month pregnant before the miscarriage, Jude broke down after realizing he was the cause; it was him that didn’t see through you.

Jude’s eyes watered thinking about the painful memory…yet he had no strength to knock on your door.

There were countless tear drops on the six-month-old sonography. You tried to hold on to the tears because it was so quiet in the house that you are for sure he’ll hear you crying. You have blamed yourself for so long after the accident and held anger towards Jude that you didn’t realize what you’ve done. He was also in pain from the loss; constantly taking the fall for what happened. Every time he tried to bring up the topic and apologize to you, you would lash out at him, and nothing changed. You still remember a couple of weeks ago when you woke up to drink a cup of water, only to see Jude asleep in front of your bedroom. He was rolled up in a ball on the floor with the blanket you bought for him many years ago. It was a painful sight because it was already four in the morning yet the tears on his cheeks still looked fresh. Still, you let your emotions get the best of you and ignored his pleading.

His heart was hurting so much to the point where he was clutching it, his nails piercing through his skin. Tomorrow would be the anniversary of the loss of the Angel he created with you, and Jude was devastated. This was when you both needed one another, yet you were locked in a different room from his, and he was too much of a coward to knock on your door. Jude missed you so much that it hurts to even think of you. Even though you were still his girlfriend, and even though you were still living under the same roof as him, you were far from being with him. He loves you so much, and it pains him to think you might not feel the same way anymore. If he had known that you were pregnant, he would have done anything to ensure you had the most extensive support. Sure he was young, and so were you, but he wouldn’t have wanted to go through that with anyone else.

You wipe the now-wet photo and pull the covers off of you. Your feet hit the cold floor and your body was shaking. You couldn’t do this alone, you needed him by your side, and five months was more than enough to give you your space. You don’t know why you needed it in the first place, but it shouldn’t have been this way. You guys were both in the wrong, and it was that reason that you should’ve been seeking warmth from one another.

With no hesitation, you open the door of the cold dark room.

Jude didn’t want to go through this alone anymore. No amount of wins can fulfilled the void in his heart. He missed you and needs you….He needed your warmth again.

With no hesitation, he knocks on the door to your room, only for it to swing open at just one knock.

You guys stare at one another, eyes filled with tears, emotions filled with sadness, hopefulness, joy, love, and all of the above. Neither of you wants to take the next step, neither of you wants to say a word, and neither of you wants to ruin the moment because it was perfect.

You look at the blanket lying on the floor where Jude is sitting, and he looks at the photo clenching in your hand; you both then avert back to each other’s eyes. “I-“ you both said at the exact time, but neither continues. Instead, you smile at one another and take the next step to pull each other intoa hug. You feel him shaking as tears hit your shoulders while his hand stroke the back of your head. Your arms are wrapped around his waist, not wanting to let go, not ever wanting to let go. The middle of his white cotton t-shirt is damped from your tears, but that was enough reassurance to Jude that you both will be ok…the missing warmth finally comes back.

#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham #soccer #footballer imagine

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ash5monster01 · 5 days

Text

Goes On Bonus Chapter

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x OC!FemReader

Warnings: 18+, depression, mentions of suicide, heavy topics, slow burn romance, fluff, gender themes/stereotypes.

word count: 3.8k

Epilogue ←

Masterlist

Ridge Academy, NY

6/3/61

“Congratulations to the class of 1961” the crowd roars as the Dean, who once Charlie hated for making him take track, announces. Graduation caps fly in the air around them as the hot sun beats down on the crowd. Not so long ago Charlie had dreaded being in this very school but now he couldn’t believe it was over. He was finally free and he never thought he would be sad about it like this.

“Yawp!” he hears from the crowd and he looks down the stage and into the crowd to see the Dead Poets standing and cheering just like they once did for Neil a lifetime ago. He can’t help the teary laugh that comes to his face as he spots all the prideful looks on each of his friends. When he was first booted from Welton he assumed he would slowly lose touch. How wrong he was, the boys all making the trip just to be here for him. He suddenly regretted not being allowed to attend theirs a week prior. They should’ve never asked for Nolan’s permission.

His own parents couldn’t even make it to this. Some last minute business in New York City his Dad had to attend to and his mother tagged along due to not trusting him. Thing was, Charlie didn’t really mind. The only people he needed were here and suddenly his heart ached for Neil. He could just see him now, cheering louder than anyone as he got his diploma because he was always his biggest fan. He always knew he could do it.

“We did it!” Evelyn’s beautiful voice suddenly filled his ears, barreling into his arms as the students were released from the stage to be congratulated by their families. Charlie laughed and hugged her tightly back, pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

“It’s about time” he told her and she laughed, squeezing him tight as he spun her around and then set her down. They kept their arms wrapped around each other as they descended the stage, off in search of the people they love.

They first stumble upon Evelyn’s parents and her little brother Eli. He had met them a few times before, leaving campus with Evelyn on holidays his parents didn’t care for him to attend. He admired how loving a family they were and that point was proven true as Mr. Evans pulled Evelyn in a hug and Mrs. Evans pulled him in. The minute they let them go Mr. Evans was quick to give Charlie a firm handshake that he was happy to return. Charlie always assumed all adult men were bitter and angry towards the world but Mr. Evans was not and that gave him hope.

“Congrats you two” Mrs. Evans beams, hands coming to wrap around Eli’s shoulders.

“Thank you, for everything” Charlie smiled back at them both, arm wrapping around Evelyn’s waist. If it wasn’t for them he would’ve never gotten accepted into Columbia. What a rush it was getting to tell his father he had been accepted into an Ivy League even with expulsion on his record. Him and Evelyn were to leave in the Fall.

“Of course son, we were glad to help” Mr. Evans nods at him and he smiles before reaching to ruffle little Eli’s hair.

“You’re next kiddo” he tells him but the boy just rolls his eyes, not one for school which Charlie found amusing. He figured being a scholar was second nature from years of being conformed into it at Welton, but if he had gone to public school he would’ve been a lot like Eli. Probably a tradesman instead of businessman.

“Yeah right” the twelve year old boy groans and Charlie laughs, remembering when he was that age, just hitting puberty and waiting to conquer the world. He hoped it didn’t crush Eli like it did him.

"Don't let us keep you guys, go celebrate with your friends and we will see you later" Mrs. Evans intervenes. Charlie and Evelyn are quick to smile and bid them goodbye as they head for the parking lot to leave with all the other visiting families. Charlie unable to keep himself away any longer interlocks his hand with Evelyn’s and starts navigating the crowd in search of the boys. They spot him as soon as he see's them and they're quick to hoot and holler all over again.

"Charlie!" is called by multiple of them, rushing over with oepn arms and collecting him a group hug. The action breaks Evelyn's grasp as he's sucked into the pile of boys who are clearly overjoyed to be here. Evelyn just smiles, having only interacted with them over the phone before. It's Knox who lifts his head from the hug to see her shyly waiting, laughing at the love shared between the boys.

“Well don’t just stand there Ev, get in here” he calls out, waving a hand to join and all the boys hear his words, tugging her into the hug with them. She laughs loudly, pressed against Charlie as the boys hold them tight.

“I can’t believe you actually did it” Meeks says as they break apart, clapping a hand against his shoulder. “Especially without me to help you with Latin”

“Well, read it and weep boys” Charlie says holding up the diploma in his hands, rolled tightly within his grasp.

“What’s it say-” Todd says as he snatches it out of his hands. “Charlie or Nuwanda”

“Oh please. It obviously says Charles” Charlie says snatching it right back and the boys laugh again.

“Thank you for coming though. I really hate that I missed yours” Charlie tells him and the boys instantly start shaking their heads.

“Don’t worry about it, you wouldn’t have liked it anyway” Pitts says and Charlie looks amongst the group to see that it was more than just some simple graduation.

“What happened?” he curiously asks and the boys look amongst each other as if debating they should even tell him. It’s not long until they clearly decide telling the truth would be better and Evelyn finds herself curling her hand into his own.

“They did some big memorial thing for Neil. Saved a chair for him and everything, even had a diploma made up. Mr. And Mrs. Perry walked the stage to accept it” Todd tells him, voice low and eyes cast at the ground. Charlie realizes it’s only moments like these when Todd turns back into that shy boy they once all knew.

“Oh” is all Charlie can say, trying to picture traditional Welton and how they had handled all of it. The last time he was ever in that ceremony room was when Neil had died. He couldn’t imagine sitting in it now and doing a remembrance of him.

“Yeah, the whole thing was bullshit. Nolan kept making speeches about how Welton has taken the proper steps to ensure we never face such tragedy again and that only the best from here on out are allowed to teach there” Knox tells him and Charlie curses under his breath, shaking his head and looking up to the bright blue sky.

“I’ll never forgive them for placing the blame on the Captain. I saw his father that night, looked him in the eye. If Keating didn’t stop me-“ Charlie cuts himself short, shaking his head and the looking to Evelyn with a soft smile.

“I don’t want to talk about it, but boys, officially meet Evelyn” Charlie says, nudging her forward with a proud smile on his face. Evelyn smiles at each of them, not needing much introduction due to how many pictures she’s seen and phone calls she’s shared over the last year.

“Hi fellas” she grins at them as she offers a wave. Knox is the first to approach her, arm wrapping around her shoulder.

“So we finally get to meet the girl who got Charlie to settle down in the flesh” he says, guiding her to the other three boys. Charlie allows it, already amused at the concept of his girlfriend and best friends.

“It really is an honor” Meeks jokes as he reaches out and shakes her hand. Evelyn laughs, greeting each of them properly.

“It’s an honor meeting all of you. I mean Pitts you’re so much taller than I expected and Todd, so much sweeter than Charlie ever let on. Meeks, you look as smart as you are and Knox, definitely a romantic” she says and the boys laugh at how well she knows them just from Charlie and the things he’s told her while he was here. Yet before they can question her more and find out the juicy details of their relationship, they’re interrupted by the yelling of two boys.

“Charlie” Marty and Nate yell as they squash the boy between them. Charlie groans, trying to shove them off as they love up on him in a teasing way. Violet and Laurie are not far behind, walking up behind them in much slower strides.

“Dead Poets, meet the Ridge Rejects. Marty, Nate, Violet, and Laurie” Evelyn introduces as Knox’s arm falls from her shoulder. It’s no surprise how Todd, Meeks, and Pitts all instantly gape at her blonde friend, star struck in the way most boys were. The difference for them was they didn’t get to see girls nearly as much.

“Nice to meet you” Violet says as the boys finally free Charlie from their grasp and he straightens out his dress shirt and gown on his form.

“Guys this is Knox, Todd, Steven, and Gerard” Evelyn introduces and the two groups swap pleasantries due to the introduction. Charlie feels his heart soar as the two groups seem to intermingle well. After he had realized pushing them away was the wrong thing to do, he found he had some really good friends here at Ridge. Best friends even and to see his two worlds collide was better than anything he could’ve imagined.

“Can you guys believe it, little Charlie actually graduated” Marty teases, arm wrapped around the brunette boys shoulders as he uses his free hand to pinch his cheek. Charlie is quick to shove him off, the poets laughing at the interaction with his new friend.

“Marty, I recall me being the one to help you with your homework. Not the other way around” Charlie says and Marty laughs, shaking his head as if he had forgotten, even though he just graduated a few moments ago.

“Actually I helped both of you with homework, but fine, don’t get me any credit” Nate says and everyone laughs, falling into a comfortable rhythm like they had been puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together all along.

“Any of you guys hungry, cause I’m starved” Evelyn says once the laughter quiets down and agreements come from nearly everyone in the group. Charlie just smiles and wraps his arms around her.

“Let’s go out to dinner, all of us” he suggests, leaning to press a kiss to the crown of her head. Evelyn nods in an agreement and the group complies easily too.

“Sounds fun, I can tell you guys all about the time Charlie got chased by a goose on campus” Knox says as he approaches both Evelyn and Charlie. Evelyn laughs as Knox breaks them apart, wrapping his arms around both their shoulders as he starts to guide them towards the parking lot.

“What did he do to the goose?” Laurie asks, the intermingled groups following along after the three and Charlie groans at the memory.

“I don’t want to talk about it” he mutters and Knox grins, squishing him into his side.

“Little Charlie here thought he could catch one. He was sorta right” Knox says as Charlie drops his head with a shake, knowing now he could no longer hide his most embarrassing moments from the group.

“How so?” Violet curiously asks and Knox turns to look over his shoulder, wide smile on his face.

“The goose caught him”

The conjoined group ended up having a great time sharing dinner together. Trading stories and preparatory school experiences, enjoying each other’s company, so much they agreed to spend the rest of the night together. Which is how the group finds themselves at the old campfire in the woods behind Ridge, one last hurrah and flask shared between them all. Charlie enjoys being curled up beside Evelyn, remembering the first night they ever came out here and he had finally accepted loving her. Accepted that he was bound to let her in.

“So someone, please, explain this Dead Poets Society to us. Charlie never shuts up about it and we do not understand” Marty announces, cigarette glowing between his finger tips, reflecting in his eyes.

“It’s kind of hard to explain, you just have to experience it” Meeks says, ears tinted red from the effects the shared whiskey had already had on him.

“Let’s do it, can’t we have a meeting right now?” Laurie curiously asked, hands brushing the blonde curls out of her face. Meeks suddenly turns redder beside her, his crush showing.

“Let’s do it boys, I haven’t attended a meeting in forever” Charlie says, having not been to one since the night Neil died. He knew the boys tried to still have some but never as often and never at the cave. Nolan had made it nearly impossible to sneak off of campus after everything went down. “Who’s gonna lead it?-”

Todd standing cuts Charlie short, not realizing that he had taken Neil’s spot. The new head of the Dead Poets and it strikes Charlie silent, the hand that was rubbing Evelyn’s back freezing in place. “We usually start our meetings with an opening poem. Boys?”

“I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life. To put to rout all that was not life, and not, when I had come to die, discover that I had not lived” the boys all repeated perfectly in sync, even Charlie who hadn’t forgotten the words once since he left. Evelyn found herself pressing a soft kiss to the side of his neck as he said it.

“Cult-ish, but okay?” Nate said with a clap, causing each of the boys to laugh as Todd fiddled with his fingers in front of the fire.

“Anyone want to go first?” he curiously asked and much to everyone’s surprise Charlie was loosening his grip and standing up from where he sat on the log.

“I have something” he announces and the group claps in support as Todd sits back down and Charlie takes his place. They all watch curiously as he wrings out his hands and stretches his neck, mentally recalling the words that once spilled out of him a long time ago and never got to be shared.

“The final bow,

The crowd goes wild.

I remember your smile,

You were only just a child.

A single part of me,

I’d never thought I’d lose.

The pride in my chest,

Burnt out like a fuse.

One last look and I swear,

I will always miss you” the group is silent, feeling the boys words sink in, in a hundred different ways. For the Welton boys, they recalled a time they were all there for. As for the Ridge group, they learned more of just how deep a cut this had made. Only knowing of the tale through passing stories. Yet absolutely none of them knew what to say.

“Suddenly he rhymes now folks” Todd is the first to break the silence with a snort, head shaking and his blonde hair falling in his eyes. Charlie looked at him slightly bewildered before cracking a smile as well. Todd was the last person he expected to say anything, let alone something sarcastic.

“Well Todd, you see I took this class in high school that taught me all about poetry” Charlie answers, sarcasm dripping from his tongue and as the group realizes he’s not mad they start to smile at the scene in front of them.

“I know, which is why I figured your poetry might be a bit more than simple rhyming. It was good nonetheless” Todd offers with the shrug of his shoulders and Charlie snorts before rushing over to the boy, tackling him off the back of the log as he play fought him. The group laughs, watching the two boys roll around.

“Hey settle down” Evelyn called out as she stood. “I want a turn”

At this, both the boys calmed down, breathless laughs falling from their panting lips, hair tousled out of its desired places. Charlie helped Todd up as Evelyn took the stage, the blazing fire making her hazel eyes glimmer in the night sky.

“I don’t necessarily have a poem but I would like to say how happy I am to be here with you all. To my Ridge Rejects, it’s crazy to think that after today I won’t get to see you all as much, that we’ll never come back here and share a dorm again. That thought breaks my heart. I love you all so much and I wouldn’t have these last few years any other way” she started, eyes watering as she thought of just how heartbreaking it was to no longer have these days. They were all off to different colleges and pretty soon she’ll only speak with them through letters and distanced phone calls.

“And to the Dead Poets. I love that I have gotten to know you through Charlie who loves you more than anything. You are all beautiful souls who survived something tragic and I’m so happy you can all be there for each other through the good and bad times. Of all the men I could’ve fell for, I’m the luckiest for falling for Charlie, because I never would have met all of you” she finished, the tears falling softly down her cheeks. She offered a bittersweet smile, hands brushing them away before walking to Charlie who happily accepted her into his arms.

“You’re not too bad yourself Ev” Knox grinned at her, holding up the flask in his hand before taking a sip and passing it to Pitts.

“I try” she says and that earns her a kiss from Charlie to the side of her head, Todd smiling at the sight of them. Loving how happy his once wild and reckless friend had become.

“I wish tonight could last forever” Nate shared, knowing that two years ago he never would’ve pictured himself here. Yet now that he was, he was glad this was how things ended up. He’d go to Columbia with Charlie and Evelyn in the fall. Meet new people for the first time in years and just maybe fall in love. Something he could see himself doing now and wear a smile while imagining it. He had loved Evelyn for so long and had gotten so used to how safe it was hiding his feelings from her, a security of knowing the other person would never fall out of love. This time he was ready to be loved and take the risk.

"It will, at least in memories" Todd responded and everyone let out content sighs, letting the very words sink in and settle in the air around them. Nothing could last for ever, that much is true. Like goes on and you make the best of it that you can. Charlie had forgotten that when Neil died, but now, surruounded by people he loved, he knew he'd never stop going on again. He'd enjoy every second he could. No matter what happened.

Finally he accepted he was surrounded by people who loved him, just as Neil once did.

When the fire died out, the group accepted that the night had officially come to an end. So they made the trek back to the school, no longer concerned about getting caught because tommorrow morning they would leave and never come back again. Charlie left the Dead Poets in his room with Nate, happy to offer up his space to spend his last night here with Evelyn, Violet doing the same in Marty's room. It felt right to all be together in this school one last time. So Charlie trailed behind Evelyn, hand interlaced with her own as she guided him to the uncomfortable twin bed they'd only have to share one last time.

"Why am I suddenly sad about my bed, this thing isnt even comfy" Evelyn grumbled as they stepped into the room and she shed her jacket. Charlie chuckled, toeing off his shoes before throwing his jacket and unbuttoning his pants.

"Maybe it's not the bed, just me in it" he offered, eyebrows wiggling as he stripped to his boxers and belly flopped into the bed. Evelyn laughed, doing the same as she searched for a spare shirt of Charlie's to sleep in. Charlie shamelessy watched her as she stripped to nothing but her panties and then shrugged his shirt over her head. As soon as she was done he was welcoming her with open arms as she curled into the bed beside him.

“I suppose you’re right, kinda sad I have to go the whole summer without this” she muttered, hand slowly lacing through his own. The both of them watching their fingers tangle to together, Charlie’s heart beat lightly thrumming against her ear.

“It’ll be over before you know it, and then we can sleep in each other’s dorms. Probably won’t even have to sneak around either” Charlie muttered, titling his head to rest against your own.

“Just promise me one thing” she says after a beat, savoring the moment entirely. How he smelled faintly of pine and campfire smoke, and how warm his skin was against her own.

“Anything my love” he mutters into her hair and she smiles, pulling their intertwined hands to her mouth and placing a soft kiss against his knuckles. Tucking their shared hands gently against her chest she tipped her head up to look at him.

“That you’ll love me like this forever, that college or growing old won’t change a thing?” she whispered and Charlie smiled, brown eyes wide and adoring.

“I promise, but it won’t always be like this. I’ll love you more and growing old and getting married will only make it better” he assures her and Evelyn smiles, pushing up to press her lips against his own. It’s barely a kiss, just their two wide and loving smiles connected by the invisible string that had always been there.

For Charlie had never thought he would be able to love again and Evelyn thought she’d never be able to love, and in the end, they proved each other wrong.

Taglist: @octaviasdread @eden-punk @linmichea1 @pursuedbyamemoryy @mynameisjxlia

a/n: just because these characters deserved a touch more of magic <3

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