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taehyungsgrowl · 3 years

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uhhhh duncan in prison angst 👀👀

hey 👋🏽

i’m sorry this took me so long to answer! but i did make a lil moodboard to go w it :•)

also i've written quite a bit of angst lately so this will be a little angsty, but also smutty.

long distance(?) old school version of sexting, really

hope y'all enjoy!

(yes, i did just discover the indention feature!)

warnings: angst if you squint, h*rny love letters, prisoners cat calling y/n, aaaand smut

word count: 3.5 k (i really don't know how this was supposed to be less than 1,000)

i don't love how this came out but the idea kept floating around in my head so i wanted to share!

Y/N didn't think what started as a harmless little experiment would show her just how powerful words could be.

She scrolled through row after row of photos on the 'write a prisoner' website on a boring evening just for something to do. And now each time she got a letter in the mail from him, her stomach would flutter.

Her finger stopped mid scroll as she came across the photo of the scruffy faced man with cheekbones carved by the gods and eyes clearer than the skies.

Duncan Shepherd.

Her eyes scanned his profile, learning that he was being held in a minimum security prison out of D.C for numerous white collar crimes, including bribery and extortion. He listed his interests as fine arts and finer wines. He'd be out for parole soon but was looking for a way to pass his time in prison.

Out of the hundreds of prisoners Y/N had scrolled past, none of them held her interest like Duncan.

It started off innocently enough. She grabbed a piece of paper from her drawer and her favorite pen and wrote him a simple introduction letter. Even if Duncan didn't seem like a dangerous or violent criminal, she felt a sense of adrenaline in writing him.

Duncan,

I hope this letter finds you well. I like to imagine you get a lot of mail sent to you. I read on your profile that you're a fan of the arts, I'd love to know more about you and what kind of art you enjoy. Truth is, I don't even know why I'm doing this, but figured prison must be lonely so I hope this helps pass the time.

I included a print of one of my favorite pieces of art to hopefully liven up your cell.

All the best,

Y/N

Y/N knew it wasn't much to start off with, but she had no clue what to send to a strange she knew next to nothing about. She printed off a print of one of Monet's Water Lillies and sealed it in an envelope with her first letter.

She let herself forget she sent the letter, not making any expectations. For all she knew, Duncan Shepherd wouldn't even reply to her. It would be hard to imagine that other people browsing the site would ignore Duncan's profile. His beauty, even in a mugshot was beyond compare.

But before long, she'd gotten a beat up envelope in her mailbox from none other than Duncan Shepherd. Excitement buzzed around her as she took a seat in her bed and tore it open.

Y/N,

Thank you for the lovely picture. I've got it hanging above my bed as a reminder of things I loved about my freedom. My mother has an original piece hanging in my childhood home. I remember staring at it for hours, enthralled by the beauty of it.

I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw the print in your envelope.

You know what they say about great minds.

Sometimes I wonder if my family would have let me pursue the arts if I'd be where I am today.

But I am eagerly counting the days until I am able to stroll through a museum in Paris again.

I am dying to know more about you. Tell me what makes up Y/N.

At the bottom of the sheet, was a rough sketch of a garden Duncan had drawn out for her.

The letters continued like that for a few weeks, slowly learning little bits and pieces of each other through writing.

She'd learned a lot about him very quickly. He told her about how troubles with his app and his powerful family led to him going to prison. And he also told her about all of the things he loved to do. Much to her surprise, she had more in common with him than she thought she would have,

Y/N,

We've been writing to each other for some time now and I must admit, curiosity is killing me. Not to mention, I do believe it's unfair that you've known what I look like from the start.

Tell me, did my photograph have anything to do with your interest in me?

I'd love to see you Y/N.

Y/N re-read the letter over and over trying to justify the butterflies in her stomach at the idea of Duncan thinking about her. Wondering what she looks like.

Duncan kept every letter Y/N had sent him using them as a way to fuel his daydreams of the woman behind the letters.

Y/N dug through her things in search of an old polaroid camera she had. - she thought Duncan would appreciate the use of instant film. Even if she felt a little silly doing so, she did her hair and makeup and searched her closet for the perfect outfit. In some way, this would be like Duncan's first impression of her. Little did she know, she'd already made a huge first impression with him.

She settled for a deep burgundy silk tank with a cowl neckline. She tossed her favorite leather jacket over it and put on her favorite dainty gold necklaces, letting them rest above her cleavage.

She made a little set up by the window in her room, where the light came in just right for a photo, and propped the camera up on a pile of books before setting it on an automatic timer to have it snap the photo of her.

She stared at the photo, smiling - happy with the results.

Y/N sat at her desk, writing him another letter and including her photo along with it.

Duncan opened his new letter from Y/N letting the photo fall from the envelope. He picked it up and stared in awe. He couldn't even focus on reading the words on the page as he stared at her picture.

In his mind, he expected her to be beautiful but was blown away by her photo.

He kept it safe, tucked under his pillow. He would take it out every night to look at it until he fell asleep dreaming of her.

Duncan saw her face... eyes clenched shut... pouty lips formed into a perfect "O" as her thighs surrounded his face.

He saw his hands traveling up her legs... kissing up her bare stomach... kissing her lips.

Everything felt so real.

Duncan woke up in a hot sweat from his over realistic dream. He could almost imagine her taste on his tongue.

The moon shone into his room giving him a sliver of silver light and he pulled her photo out, tracing his finger over her face.

He turned on the little lamp at his desk and sat down to write her back.

I can't tell you the time, but I believe it's past midnight and I can't sleep without dreaming of you.

Forgive me if I'm being forward, but I can't get you off my mind.

What I would give to be with you now...

Y/N, I want to feel your skin on mine. I imagine what it must feel like to have your lips pressed against my own.

I can't stop myself from thinking of all the ways I want to make you mine.

D.S.

I want to make you mine.

Y/N kept going back to those words.

If it weren't for the prison bars keeping Duncan away...

Her daydreams of spending the afternoons sipping coffee and strolling through colorful cities with Duncan began to change after the last letter. Knowing that he wanted her sent shivers down her spine.

I can't stop thinking about you either... Especially your last letter.

I want to know all the ways you'd make me yours.

I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it as well. I'm counting the days with you until you're able to get out and do just that...

Y/N colored her lips with her favorite lipstick and kissed the bottom of the page, leaving the perfect kiss mark on it.

She had unlocked something with Duncan with the last letter. Ever since he and Y/N started to exchange letters back and forth, he hadn't even bothered to open mail from other admirers. He only had eyes for Y/N.

Y/N.

Wish you could hear how your name falls off my lips as I chant it over and over when I bring myself relief - picturing your lips around my cock.

God.

It's hard to think clearly when you're on my mind.

You want to know of all the ways I'd make you mine? My hand would fall off by the time it took to write out each and every way I'd do that, sweetheart.

For starters, I'd love to skin my teeth into your skin. Leaving sweet love bites along your neck. Would you like that?

I wouldn't want you to worry about a thing.

You'd let me take care of you, right baby?

Maybe I'd tie up your wrists to make sure you keep still while I work on making you cum.

I hope you know I plan on keeping these promises the moment I get out.

Y/N touched herself as she read Duncan's letter again. His words making her pool between her legs. She dipped her hand into her panties and imagined everything Duncan described that he'd do to her.

Y/N wanted to do something special for Duncan.

She changed into a lacy lingerie set and grabbed her old camera again. Her heartbeat was beating fast with excitement. She held one hand up with her finger on the shutter and pointed it towards her bottoms. As she dipped her free hand into the waistband of her panties, she took the teasing shot of her hand inside her underwear.

Her cheeks felt hot as she took a look at the photo.

She took a few more. A few more teasing pictures - like the one she took wearing her leather jacket barely covering her - along with more R- rated photos.

She grabbed her small stack of photos and tied them with a piece of ribbon in order from least to most risque and added them to the letter she sent off to him.

Do you know what you do to me?

My letters make you touch yourself? What I would give to be able to see it in more than just your pictures. To be able to hear you for myself.

You don't know how much I loved your photos. You make my cock throb, thinking of just how much I want to fuck you.

I need to see you. Hear you.

How would you feel about coming to see me?

I can arrange with my assistants (the ones not in prison) to arrange a flight for you...

Please let me know what you think.

Love, D.S.

Love D.S.

"Shepherd. You got a call," the guard buzzed Duncan out of his cell and took him to the phone booth where the phone was waiting for him.

He wasn't expecting a call from his lawyer until later this week so he wasn't sure who would be calling him. Not like he and his family were on great terms at the moment.

Y/N tapped her foot anxiously on the other end of the call, trying to fight the nerves off.

"Hello?"

His voice was lower than she expected.

"Hi," she spoke barely above a whisper. "It's Y/N," she continued.

"Y/N? Y/N? Oh my god." Duncan smiled in a way he hadn't since he stepped foot into prison. "Your voice!" he laughed, "I'm hearing your voice! Wait, how? I - why? How?" he was at loss for words at the surprise.

"I hope it's okay. I called the office where I send my letters to and asked to call you," she bit her lip. "I like your voice."

Duncan chuckled, shaking his head. "Wow. It's so good to hear yours."

They knew they didn't have much time but they were both so wrapped up in the fact that they were hearing each other for the first time.

"I, uh, also wanted to talk to you about your... proposal from your last letter... about visiting you I mean." she paced back and forth in her room. "I'd like that. A lot."

His cheeks would be hurting from how hard he was smiling.

"You've got it, baby. We'll make it happen, I promise."

There was a brief pause, "Don't know how I'm gonna control myself when I have you in front of me, princess."

"Two minutes, Shepherd," the guard called over making Duncan roll his eyes.

"I have to go soon. But include your info in the next letter and I'll have my lawyers work something out with you, okay?"

"Okay," she smiled. "And Dunc, it's so good to hear your voice too,"

"You'll call me again?" he asked, desperation almost bleeding into his tone.

"Yes. I promise."

"Good." he grinned. "I'll talk to you soon. Bye, baby."

Over the next few weeks, Y/N and Duncan continued to have phone calls more often, but their letters never stopped. He got in touch with his attorney and passed along Y/N's information for him to follow up and help arrange a trip for her.

Before she knew it, she was being flown out in a first class seat to D.C.

They had her stay in a luxury suite the night before she got to finally meet Duncan.

The morning of, Y/N had piles of clothes tossed around the room as she searched for what to wear.

She'd known Duncan and his taste pretty well from his letters and phone calls to know what he liked. Y/N put on a baby pink silk mini slip dress that tiptoed the line between streetwear and lingerie, and strappy heels.

"Damn, baby. Haven't seen you around here..."

"Are you here for me?"

Along with countless other cat calls flooded her ears as the guard led her to Duncan's cell.

Duncan heard the commotion down the hall and he knew Y/N would be there any second. He frowned, wanting to take her away. None of those creeps deserved to even look at her, and here they were harassing her. It was his fault for bringing her there. He tried to tune them out, wanting to be okay when he saw Y/N.

Y/N was standing behind the guard as they came to Duncan's cell.

"Follow me, Shepherd. You both have an hour," the guard let Duncan out and he could finally lock eyes with Y/N.

She froze, finally seeing. His photo on the website did him no justice. The piercing stare of his eyes couldn't be recaptured on camera. His pink, full lips were even prettier in person.

"Hi," Duncan broke the silence between them. He was handcuffed immediately so he couldn't touch her the way he wished he could have right away.

But they were taken to the parloir where they would finally have some sense of privacy. Duncan's lawyers had worked out for this conjugal visit. They might have slipped the guards a few extra bills to ensure Duncan and Y/N had extra privacy for a moment. But Duncan had been a model prisoner (in one of the comfiest prisons in the country), so the guards had no reason to say no.

"One hour." he reminded Dunc, as he removed his handcuffs and left the room, leaving Y/N and Duncan alone.

"You're here," he closed the gap between them and embraced her. She smelled even better than he imagined.

"Duncan," she smiled with tears in her eyes, "I can't believe it's really you," she giggled.

"It's me," he pulled back, holding her hands as he admired her. "God, you're gorgeous."

Y/N couldn't help herself. She threw her arms around Duncan and kissed him.

Duncan stumbled back a little before steadying them. He cupped her face and deepened the kiss. He could feel her pulse quickening under his hand.

"God, can't believe you're here," he mumbled against her lips.

It'd be so long since he'd be this intimate with anyone - let alone someone he liked so much. He tried to push back the thoughts of the ticking clock counting their time and the cold industrial feel of the room they were in.

"I'm here... I'm yours," she tangled her fingers in his hair before kissing him again.

Duncan led her to the table, setting her on top of it. He towered above her, his hands on her thighs, slowly inching up her dress. She was everything he imagined and more.

"Open your legs for me," he instructed, parting them open.

He lowered himself until he was face to face with her dripping cunt. Her panties, if they could even be called that - they were a piece of barely-there cloth - were soaked. Duncan pressed her lips to the wet spot on her underwear and kissed it slowly, letting his tongue poke out through his lips and coat them with his saliva as well.

"Taste so sweet," he murmured, pulling her panties aside and putting his tongue on her wet pussy.

He lapped her wetness with his tongue, letting it massage her clit. Sucking and kissing her - watching how every move he made caused a different reaction from her.

Y/N tried to keep quiet, biting down on her lip to stifle her moans.

Duncan peeked up at her, holding in her sounds. He remembered the way the other prisoners hollered at her.

"I wanna hear you, baby. Please," he begged. He kissed along her thighs, "Want everyone in this god damn prison to know you're mine."

Y/N let the sounds she was holding in fall freely.

"Duncan. Duncan..." she called his name over and over getting closer to the sweet relief his tongue promised.

"Cum for me, sweetheart."

Duncan felt her heels digging into his shoulder blades as she trembled, finishing on his lips.

"Good girl," he praised, kissing along her thighs.

Duncan stood up as Y/N watched him with her hands pressed on the table, leaning back slightly to watch him.

"What?" Duncan chuckled, slowly undoing his jumpsuit.

"Just can't stop looking at you! You're real!" she laughed.

"Sure am," he grabbed his shaft, closing the gap between them. "I don't know when we'll be able to see each other.. like this again," he leaned down to kiss her. "Wanna make sure I make you feel good,"

He rubbed the end of his cock against her pussy. "Are you ready?"

"Waited so long," she whined, nodding her head.

Duncan pushed inside her, slowly. Savoring the way he stretched her open.

"Fuck," he groaned. "You're so tight," he panted, feeling her clench around his length.

He focused on the way he snapped his hips into hers, keeping a steady pace trying not to finish before she did.

But it had been so long. It had been a long time coming for this moment.

His head was in the crook of her neck, panting heavily. "Fuck, baby." he sunk his teeth into her soft skin. "Gonna cum," before he could finish his statement, he shot his load into her.

He stayed inside her as he rode out his orgasm.

Flushed Duncan faced her; embarrassed for finishing before he wanted to. "I'm sor-" she stopped him by pulling him in for a hard, deep kiss.

She pushed his hair out of his face, bumping her nose with his, "Nothing to be sorry for."

She had Duncan lay on the floor, using his jumpsuit to hold his head up, and then straddled his waist.

Her silky mini dress was bunched around her hips. Duncan found himself getting hard again as she climbed on top of him.

"Thought about doing this for so long," she kissed him. "Can't tell you how often I touched myself reading your letters... thinking about riding you," she sighed, positioning herself over his cock and sinking down.

She rode his cock, bouncing up and down his length. Her nails dug into his chest as she used it for support. The curve of his cock hitting her core made her eyes roll back with each roll of her hips.

Hot sweaty bodies had the coldness of the room forgotten.

Y/N grabbed Duncan's hands, intertwining their fingers, "Gonna.." she started, her legs shaking as her movement got sloppier.

"Me too," he grunted.

She felt Duncan fill her to the brim for the second time.

After a few moments of stillness, Y/N finally stood up, helping Duncan up with her. Her legs were shaky and Duncan helped her sit down.

She reached into her purse for a rag she brought. Duncan took it from her hand and got on his knees again. He cleaned their cum off her thighs, stopping only to give her small little kisses on her legs.

He heard Y/N sniffle and looked up, concern painted across his face. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Is she regretting it? He thought.

"No! Of course not," she sniffled again, "I just wish... you could come with me. Leave this place with me."

"Oh, baby," he stood up and kissed her forehead. "Soon. I promise," he tilted her chin up to kiss her.

And Y/N knew he meant what he said. Soon they'd be able to be together all the time, but it still broke her heart to leave and have to see him stay behind the metal bars.

tags:

@desertsunflower00 @celestialrequiem @dhampiravidi @ritualmichael @blakescoven @dark-mei-rose @xavierplympton @langdonswhoreprobably @feralthoughtdump @wroteclassicaly @melodylangdon @bloodcoatedeclipse @kitty4860

bonus: screenshot from a very good point drunk!anon made vkfsjk

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd smut #duncan shepherd angst #duncan shepherd x reader #cody fern #house of cards #hoc #i didnt know who would like to be tagged or not so lmk if i need to make changes to the tl #thank you!!!#submission

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years

Text

autumn leaves | l.i.b. finale

→ summary: and in the end, we fall because we have no other choice. some get up easier than others, and we bury the ones who never do.

→ pairing: ??? x reader → genre: angst, humor, fluff, lib!au → warnings: tae gets hurt a little but its an accident (he’s fine dw), small blood mention (from aforementioned accident), rage moments (rip lol), heartbreak (yum!), a happy ending (?) → words: 7.7K → a/n: oh my god we’re at the end?? after two months of SUFFERING?? how can this be happening?? lol but seriously thank you to everyone for going on this journey with me. writing lib was honestly so much fun, and it’s been a while since i’ve been able to kinda go “all-out” or whatever. i’m kind of nervous with this ending, but hopefully it’s something everyone will be able to enjoy. peace!!

prev // part 38 of 38 masterlist here. [series completed]

October 1, 2020 — 6:18 PM

Min Yoongi’s phone feels like it's burning a hole into his back pocket. It’s a heavy presence, weighing like concrete enough to bend his spine. His hands itch to reach for it, to check for messages he knows he won’t receive. But in the back of his mind, he thinks—desperately and senselessly, that if he wishes hard enough, then maybe it’ll come true.

I should be glad that she isn’t calling me, he tries to convince himself. The itch continues to grow, licking at the back of his mind like a fire begging to be extinguished. I should trust her decision. I should be proud of her. But there’s always been a difference, after all, to what Yoongi should do and what he wants. It’s a difference that he has fought to ignore for years now.

“Hyung,” a soft voice calls out to him, a hand placed gently on his shoulder. Yoongi blinks slowly out of his trance, his eyes dry from staring out his car window for too long. He doesn’t turn in his seat, refusing to face his companion in the backseat. “Hyung,” the voice calls out again, this time shaking him vigorously enough that Yoongi has no other choice but to turn lest his shoulders get dislocated.

“What do you want, Jimin?” Yoongi growls, sneering at the boy. Jimin smiles sheepishly, but he doesn’t back down under his glare.

“Sorry. You were gripping the wheel so tightly that I was scared you were going to break it.” Jimin shrugs nonchalantly, but there’s an edge to his tone, betraying his worry. Yoongi releases the wheel at once, switching to picking at the rips in his jeans instead.

“Didn’t notice. Sorry for snapping at you, I was just…” Yoongi trails off, expression glazing over once more. What was he trying? What was he doing here?

Jimin’s pupils flit all over Yoongi’s face, searching for something. “We’re not going to bring her home anymore?” he asks, but there’s a note of finality there. He knows that they aren’t going home with them tonight, at least not right now. They’ve been parked a block away from Namjoon’s childhood home for a few hours now, sitting in Yoongi’s car and waiting to see if you needed them to help you escape. Jimin has been watching Yoongi all the while, keeping track of the small changes in his friend’s expression.

They are hard to pinpoint sometimes, but Jimin sees them all. He sees the way Yoongi’s brow furrows slightly, sees the way his teeth nibble on his lips in worry, sees the way his head jerks every time he hears a sound, thinking that it might be his phone about to ring. Yoongi is like a pot about to boil over, hardly keeping everything together.

To many people, Yoongi often appears to be as unmoving as a rock. He hardly allows his emotions to control him, and he has always been proud to call himself a level-headed person. And for the most part, Jimin agrees with that. Yoongi is and always will be someone who thrives in times of turmoil, someone who relies on his wit to get him through adversity. He seldom gets angry, rarely raises his voice, never acts cruelly. He’s the person that everyone in their friend group often comes to for advice and support, as he’s always the one who seems to have the right thing to say.

But all those things begin to crumble, however, when it comes to you.

Yoongi is still human, too. He bends, he breaks, he yields—and he does so, especially for you.

“No, we’re not bringing her home,” Yoongi replies. The admission is there, hidden in plain sight. His words are laced with defeat, but it is a defeat that has been accepted long ago. Long before his text conversation with you.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Jimin asks, not unkindly. Even still, Yoongi winces. Jimin’s real question is there, hidden in plain sight as well. What are you waiting for?

Yoongi sighs, resting his forehead against the wheel. He hears Jimin shift in his seat, feels his presence get closer as he leans forward to place a comforting hand on his back. “Nothing,” he says. He breathes deeply through his nose and counts to three. Releases it. “We are waiting for nothing.”

Jimin hums and says nothing more. They sit there in silence for a bit longer, watching the sun’s final moments in the sky before the moon takes its place. The street lamps turn on, bathing the streets in its dusty yellow luminescence. Under the lights, Yoongi’s skin looks tired and worn, like a paper that has been crumpled and smoothed over multiple times.

“I wonder if they’ve finished speaking by now,” Yoongi says suddenly. He still hasn’t moved from his position, his face hidden from view. It almost looks like he hadn’t spoken at all, but Jimin had heard him. He looks at Yoongi in surprise but keeps his silence. Jimin can feel the beginnings of something about to break, and he is afraid that if he makes a sound, it might stop. Even stones break in the end.

“I doubt it. They have a lot of shit to talk about. Too much, in fact.” Yoongi sounds exhausted, his words slurring together like he’s falling asleep. But he’s never been more wide awake. “I’d have a lot to say if I were them. But I’m not them, nor will I ever be.”

Yoongi tilts his head high enough that he can rest his chin on the wheel instead. He stares blankly at the quiet street, listens intently to the sound of the wind beating gently against his car. Parked out there, in the middle of a small neighborhood in Ilsan, far away from the bustling streets of the city, he can almost trick himself into thinking that he’s the only person in the world—

“You love her.”

—but he isn’t alone.

Jimin says it without a shade of doubt. He says it like it's a simple truth of life, like there is no other possible way Yoongi could feel otherwise. The sky is blue. The earth is round. Min Yoongi is in love with you.

“Yes,” Yoongi breathes it out, the confession tumbling through his lips with quiet ease. It does not struggle; it does not resist. It just is. “I’ve loved her before I even knew it myself, I think.”

“I never thought you’d be the type to fall in love at first sight,” Jimin says it lightly, teasingly. There’s a shrivel of truth to it though, but Yoongi will deny it to his dying day; it’ll hurt less if he does.

“I think it started a year ago. When I was preparing for my junior year exhibition.” Yoongi remembers the long nights working until his hands bled, the recurring nightmares eating at his mind, the fear climbing his spine like a tightrope pulled taut. It’s one of the only times when he had bitten more than he could chew, piling impossible expectations onto himself. In those long three weeks of constant anxiety nipping at his heels, he had almost forgotten what it was like to be human. That is, until…

“She saved me. She taught me to slow down, to be compassionate to myself. She didn’t judge me or scold me or hurt me. She just… cared.” Yoongi exhales, clenching his eyes shut. He can see it in his head: your soft hands carding through his hair, whispering assurances and praise into his ears, guiding him to his bed and staying with him until he’d fallen asleep soundly for the first time in days. “Slowly but surely, I started to fall for her. There was just no other way. My heart refused to have it any other way,” he says.

Jimin hums. “I’d always guessed, but I never thought it was that early. You do have an awful habit of staring, hyung. Sometimes I feel like you have to remind yourself to blink.”

Yoongi laughs, hollow sounding. “I suppose I do.”

“Then why didn’t you do anything about it then?”

Jimin’s question is expected. It should be an easy one to answer, but Yoongi doesn’t quite know what to say. It’s easy to say that he knew Jungkook and you already loved each other long before he realized his feelings, and Yoongi was the last person on earth who would do anything to hurt either of you to fulfill his desires. It’s true, but it’s not the whole truth.

So instead, Yoongi responds, “It’s because I’m a hypocrite.” When he doesn’t elaborate, he sees Jimin give him a confused look from the rearview mirror.

Yoongi chuckles sardonically, shaking his head. His mouth feels like acid, as if bile had risen up his throat. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, but it would hurt more later if he didn’t suck the poison out right here and now. “Nevermind about that. The point is, I lost my chance and I don’t regret it. Yeah, it fucking hurts like a bitch, but what am I going to do? Cry about it? We’ve all known since the beginning that if anyone is going to get a happy ending, it’s certainly not going to be me.”

“Don’t say that,” Jimin says, frowning slightly. He had spoken so sternly that it impelled Yoongi to straighten up in his seat and turn to stare at him. It’s quite unlike Jimin to be anything but friendly and kind, so seeing him so severe is disconcerting. Though, it did manage to shut Yoongi up immediately.

“This is not the end of the world. You are not going to end up unloved or forgotten. There are people who love you, people who will love you. Don’t you remember? Those were the same words you told me when I got my heart broken the first time,” Jimin says, his voice trembling ever so slightly. Yoongi’s gaze flies to Jimin’s fists, clenched tightly by his sides.

Of course, Yoongi remembers. It’s hard to forget the sight of Park Jimin sobbing relentlessly into his shoulder, fat tears falling like raindrops and down his flushed cheeks. He remembers saying the same words to you, too. He wonders, not for the first time, if his words are as ineffective to you as they are to him right now.

“I know,” Yoongi says. He switches the engine on and watches his dashboard light up. The radio turns on, the last notes of a ballad playing through the speakers. Yoongi puts his hand on the wheel, carefully not to grip too tightly this time. It’s a start, he thinks.

They go home, leaving without looking back.

x x x x x

October 1, 2020 — 9:20 PM

Kim Taehyung locks his bedroom door the moment he gets home, after casting a furtive glance at the closed door across from his. He does not know what he expects; the door across from him has been closed for almost a week now. The entire apartment is still, but he is not alone. The ghost who lives in the other bedroom still haunts him, in more ways than one.

He drops his bag to the floor, still cradling a small bouquet of camellias that was slightly crushed when he had bumped into someone in the elevator. He unpeels the plastic wrapping, gently placing them into the vase near his windowsill. He fingers the vibrant pink petals, but they don’t brighten his room the way they once did. It still feels dark, but he has a sinking suspicion that he had nothing to do with his lights.

It’s me. I’ve changed.

He shakes his head, banishing the thought. No, it’s okay. Everything is fine. You’ve done nothing wrong. And yet, the door across the hall begs to differ.

Typically, this shouldn’t be a problem for him. When everything is said and done, Taehyung is used to this happening. The closed doors, the unopened texts, the cold shoulders. It’s all a process that Taehyung has lived through for years.

Guilt: an emotion that Taehyung has become accustomed to. Abandonment: an action that Taehyung has learned to anticipate. Isolation: a lifestyle that Taehyung has mastered. Every relationship with Kim Taehyung will always lead to these three things, so it shouldn’t be affecting him the way that it is.

But over the last three years, he’d grown comfortable. The people around him had convinced him unknowingly, planting seeds of hope and optimism in a garden he had thought to be infertile. For once in his life, Taehyung had found a home in these people, and he’d do anything in his power to keep it safe.

Or at least, he thought he did.

His original intentions had been guileless; he wanted to help Jungkook because he was his friend. Jungkook had been his first friend in university—if he wanted to be honest, then Taehyung would even say that Jungkook was his first friend in his entire life. The boy was kind-hearted and supportive, wrapped perfectly with a goofy personality. Of course, Taehyung wasn’t blind to Jungkook’s faults, but he was sure that Jungkook didn’t have a mean bone in his body. He had decided back then that he could trust this one, and once he had allowed Jungkook into his life, the rest followed suit.

It was easy to empathize with Jungkook because he was just so… awkward. It was like watching a newborn fawn learning to walk for the first time, except Jungkook had long since outgrown his baby status and should have been independent long ago. Taehyung and everyone knew this about him, but they still gave him the benefit of the doubt. They mentored him, guided him, manipulated him in the wrong ways in hopes of hastening him to change. That was until…

Everything fell apart. Taehyung understood long before the fall that he had played a considerable part in Jungkook’s ruin. His negligence, his willful involvement in worsening the situation had exacerbated everything. He had ignored the signs, had barrelled through with his plans without another thought, all because he allowed himself to be blind to what he truly wanted out of this mess.

If he genuinely wanted to be a friend to Jungkook, he would’ve stopped interfering way before you had gone to Ilsan that one fateful weekend in August. He’d been aware he was doing more harm than good to everyone around him, including himself.

No, he stopped wanting to help Jungkook a long time ago. It had turned into his own personal agenda.

“Fuck!” Taehyung screams into the night sky, slamming his hands against the wall. He grabs the nearby vase, smashing it against the floor and scattering water, petals, and glass across the floor. The impact causes a few shards to imbed themselves into his shin, but he does not mind them, for he does not feel them.

He breathes heavily, gritting his teeth in unspeakable rage. He’s angry, so furious. This red hot searing rage builds up in his body until he starts to feel dizzy, his vision blurred with tinges of black. Why is he mad? Who is he mad at?

Is he mad at Jungkook? Yes, but that isn’t new. He’s been angry at Jungkook for a while now. It frustrates him to no end how lucky Jungkook is without even knowing. How easily love comes to him, how pain and misfortune had never been in his vocabulary until just recently. Jungkook had you, Yoongi, and Jimin for longer than he has. Jungkook has been swaddled in affection since the start but has always been too stupid to see. If he had just stopped being so cowardly, he could have easily gotten the person he loves without anyone’s help.

If he just learned to ask, if he just learned to stop fucking locking his goddamn door—

Just like Taehyung.

They are two sides of the same coin, and it scares him.

This raw, unadulterated rage is not about Jungkook, but himself. It was always about him.

He lets out one last defiant shout at the frigid sky before dropping to his bed in defeat. The fury subsides as quickly as it comes, but it only leaves a desolate landscape inside of him.

He does not know for how long he lies there. When he stands, he leaves bloody footprints in his wake. “Appropriate,” he mutters to himself. He limps over to his door, hobbling to the adjacent bathroom to retrieve a first-aid kit. When he opens the door, Taehyung does not notice the small white box placed in front of his doorway. He nearly trips over it, saving himself by latching onto the wooden frame. He glances down, picking up the box gingerly when he sees a small sticky note tacked on top of it.

If you need help, just knock.

Taehyung looks across the hall. The door is still closed, but the person behind it is not.

His grip on the first-aid kit tightens. The first step is always the hardest.

x x x x x

October 1, 2020 — 1:03 PM

When you had run the moment you spotted Jungkook, Jung Hoseok had chosen to stay behind. He had pushed Jungkook to go after you, had yelled at him when Jungkook had hesitated for that one split second.

“Go!” he shouted, jolting Jungkook to his senses. He sprinted off, but not before giving Hoseok one last look back. Hoseok put on his bravest smile at him, throwing a thumbs up. “Don’t give up yet!”

Even now, ten minutes later, his throat still feels scratchy from how loud he had been.

He sits by the curb where he had parked his parents’ car. Namjoon sits beside him, a few inches apart. The autumn wind sends chills down his back, the afternoon sun doing its best to keep him warm. Though, he reckons that half the cold is because of the weather.

Hoseok clears his throat at the same moment Namjoon does. They share a glance, the beginnings of a smile playing on their lips. They look back to the ground, avoiding each other once more. Hoseok taps indiscernible beats with his feet while Namjoon draws shapes in the air with his fingers.

Hoseok tries again. “Umm. Namjoon,” he mumbles tentatively. He doesn’t know where to start.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, you know. I’ve known you since before you even learned how to walk.” Namjoon beats him to it, like always. “I can guess what you want to say.”

Hoseok hazards a glance at him. His friend is tanner than he remembers, the summer months having done well on his skin. He almost giggles when he notices the line where the edge of his shirt sleeve meets his bicep, the stark contrast of color evident whenever Namjoon moves his arm. It has been a while since he has seen Namjoon with a tan line, as Hoseok was usually there to remind him to put sunscreen on before leaving the house.

Usually.

Hoseok sobers up, the momentary amusement evaporating just like that. How is it that in only one month, so many things have changed between them?

“What do you think I want to say?” Hoseok responds. He tries to keep his voice level and cool, but he knows that Namjoon notices the small ways in which he falters. Namjoon knows how he rubs his neck when he’s nervous, how his ears get red when he’s embarrassed. He memorizes the exact time it takes for Hoseok’s mouth to downturn, forming into his signature pout.

He knows all these things and more. And yet, how could Namjoon possibly know the traitorous things that he has done?

“I think… you got sidetracked,” Namjoon says slowly, carefully. When Hoseok glances at him again, he finds that Namjoon is looking back. He has a contemplative expression on his face, his jaw clenched in the same way that it does when he’s solving a tough problem. “I think you wanted to help me get together with her, didn’t you? At least, in the beginning.”

“I still do,” Hoseok admits, breaking his gaze once more. He stares up ahead, where the park is bustling with children and their families. He watches a small boy swinging on a swing set, while another boy pushes him higher and higher. “Do you remember?”

“Remember what?”

“When you texted me while you were freaking out over how you were falling in love with her?”

Namjoon huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. Of course. How could I forget? I’m still freaking out about it now.”

“I was just… worried about you, you know? I’m always worried about you,” Hoseok says. The boy on the swing set is still going, but one extra strong push from his friend causes him to tumble, landing face-first into the ground. The nearby adults begin to panic, but the boy rises unsteadily, dirt caked onto his scratched up face. But when he faces his friend, he’s smiling and laughing like he has just won the lottery.

“Not an unfounded concern,” Namjoon chuckles, causing Hoseok to put on a small smile. His laughter dies as quickly as it comes. “Was that the time you decided to help me?”

“I’ve wanted to help you since the beginning, but that was the first time I actually did something about it.” Hoseok’s heart is beating a mile a minute, his palms sweaty despite the chilly weather. “I only wanted to find out if Jungkook really liked her or not. I wanted to know if you had a chance before you fell any deeper because I didn't want you to get hurt.”

When Namjoon doesn’t say anything, Hoseok continues. “Even when he admitted that he did love her, I could sense that there was a huge chance things weren’t going to work between them as long as if some things were just… pushed in the right direction.” His voice grows smaller the more and more he speaks, the guilt feeling heavy against his windpipe. But Hoseok is determined to tell him, no matter what happens. It’s the least that Namjoon deserves.

“I suppose, in this case, it would be the wrong direction,” Namjoon hums, but he doesn’t appear angry or upset. Not yet, at least. From the corner of Hoseok’s eye, he sees him nod for him to go on.

“Yeah. I could tell he was insecure, and that insecurity was prone to growing into jealousy,” Hoseok runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots just to give his hands something to do other than to quiver. “I noticed that he shuts down whenever he’s cornered, so that’s what I did. I kept pushing him, forcing him to admit his wrongdoings but never berating him for them. So, in turn, he began relying on me for comfort instead of his friends.”

He keeps going, “I didn’t feel bad for it at first. I kept telling myself, ‘It’s all for Namjoon in the long run.’ But it didn’t take long for me to realize that I couldn’t keep helping you without hurting Jungkook in the process. I was manipulating this poor boy, and I didn’t even know it until it was too late.”

Hoseok waits for Namjoon to react. He can’t bear to look at him, far too ashamed even to consider turning. He’s sure he’ll find disgust in his kind friend’s eyes, and he isn’t sure if he’d be able to stop himself from running if he saw it. But Namjoon refuses to speak, probably not until Hoseok finishes his piece.

“Jungkook didn’t deserve what I did to him. All the things he did is nothing in comparison to the punishment I inflicted on him, especially when it was never my place to do so. I fed the monster inside of him when he was nothing but a boy who was just scared. Then, just when he still had a shot at redemption, when she was still willing to listen to him, it was also me who ruined everything. I told her about all the bad things he had done. I told her about—”

“The thing about Jungkook paying to spread that rumor,” Namjoon speaks so suddenly that Hoseok nearly chokes in surprise. He had been so quiet that he scarcely even seemed to breathe. “You told her about it, didn’t you?”

“I… Yes, I did. She told you about it?”

“Yeah. She never informed me who told her, but I suppose it makes sense. But there was something else you said, wasn’t there? Something even she wouldn’t tell me.”

Hoseok nods his head sadly. “Yes. I think she was probably more hurt to find out that Jungkook had been ignoring her in favor of hanging out with me. Indirectly, I fed into her jealousy, but instead of comforting her, I intensified her guilt.”

Beside him, Namjoon releases a shaky breath. “You brought me up.”

“Yes.” There’s no use denying it; after all, Hoseok has always been a terrible liar.

“Did you tell her..?” The question hangs heavily in the air, but Namjoon doesn’t have to finish it for Hoseok to understand.

“No, I didn’t tell her you love her. I just mentioned how she was hurting you by loving Jungkook. That’s all. I don’t think she even had the chance to understand what I meant.”

There’s a moment of silence. The two boys sit side by side, looking to all the world like friends just enjoying an autumn afternoon together. The sounds of children singing, of parents chatting, of lovers laughing try their best to fill the space, but the gap is already too big to mend. At least, not immediately.

“Okay.”

Hoseok startles once more, this time managing to gather enough courage to take a peek at Namjoon. He keeps his eyes low, staring at the mole on his chin. “Okay?” he repeats.

Namjoon shrugs half-heartedly. “It’s done. All we can do now is wait, I guess.”

“But… you’re not..?”

“Mad at you? No, I’m not. Am I hurt? Incredibly so.” Namjoon swallows thickly, his chin wobbling as he finds the strength to keep his tears at bay. “But I can tell you found your way back to the light, and I’m more relieved that you realized your mistake more than anything. I forgive you, but just know that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget.”

“That’s already more than I deserve, Joon,” he says shakily. He feels a hand snake around his own, and he looks down to find their fingers laced together. On Namjoon’s wrist, the bracelet he had made for him in the 7th grade is frayed and mangled, but still ever-present. “But… what now? If they truly end up fixing everything, will you be okay with it? If Jungkook is still fighting for her… why aren’t you?”

“Same goes for you, I suppose,” Namjoon says simply. He doesn’t explain what he means by that, but Hoseok is honestly too afraid to ask. He’s always felt like Namjoon knew a little bit too much about things that he shouldn’t. He smiles, but there is a tinge of melancholy there.

Just out of reach, the way Namjoon has always seemed to be.

x x x x x

October 1, 2020 — 5:12 PM

At first, Jeon Jungkook is surprised to find the park more empty than when he was here a few hours ago. He supposes it is only to be expected, as dinner time is fast approaching and all the families have returned to their homes, preparing for the festivities. In another life, he might have been one of those families, sitting around a table with his brother and parents and eating to his heart’s content. Perhaps he might’ve asked you to join him, just like you had in the past.

He finds you seated on one of the benches near the entrance, kicking away fallen leaves absentmindedly. He takes this moment to observe you from afar, his breath getting caught in his throat when he realizes how long it has been since he last saw you.

His heart aches, the constant heaviness that has made a home in his chest growing tenfold. There are no words to explain the plethora of emotions flying through his head, but all he knows is that at the root of it all, he simply just misses you.

You hear him approach him before you see him. When he looks at you, Jungkook doesn’t know how you’re feeling. He used to be so good at anticipating your mood, always the first one to sense when you were upset or annoyed. Now, you just looked… blank, and for some reason, that hurts to see more than if you had been angry.

Jungkook stops right in front of you, his black boots crunching on dead leaves. You motion for him to take a seat beside you, patting the bench lightly.

“Hi. It’s been a while,” you say softly. You aren’t looking at him, and your hair obstructs him from viewing your face.

“Hello,” he replies, feeling dumb. He can’t think of anything better to say, all the things he had prepared in his mind suddenly blown away with the wind. The sight of you alone makes his mouth go dry, his hands to grow cold and clammy. He realizes, not for the first time, how terribly out of his depth he is.

“This has certainly been a long time coming, hasn’t it?”

“It has been,” he agrees. “It’s almost laughable how long it’s taken us to get to this moment.”

You bark out a laugh, the hoarse sound ringing in the air. “Laughable is certainly one way to put it, I guess.”

“Then why did you ignore me for so long? Why did you suddenly shut me out when you told me you wanted to talk? What happened?” He speaks without meaning to, the words flying out of his mouth before he can think of stopping. If his sudden inquiry startles you, you don’t show it.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You shrug, pushing back some of your hair behind your ear. He can see the slope of your nose, the outline of your lips, the shape of your eyes. He memorizes all these things about you, sees you in his dreams and nightmares, but nothing can ever beat real life.

“I’m sorry.” It’s a start: two words heavy with meaning. What does he apologize for first? The rumors? The jealousy? The betrayal? It wouldn’t matter which one he chooses to tackle first because he already knows sorry isn’t going to cut it, but he has to try at least. This isn’t really about him anymore or about asking for forgiveness. You deserve to know everything he’s done—if you wanted to know, that is.

You blink rapidly, but your eyes are dry. “I know.”

“You don’t have to forgive me.”

“I know.”

“You don’t have to trust me.”

“I don’t,” you say, and it hurts the both of you when you do. Jungkook feels his insides clench, feels his heart collapse in his chest. “I don’t trust you, Jungkook,” you repeat.

“I…” Jungkook has to take a few shuddering breaths, his vision going blurry as he tries to keep it together. He waits for the pain to ebb, but it flows like a river down his veins. “I hurt you a lot. It’s only right that you don’t trust me.”

“I have a lot of regrets,” you say, sniffling. You still aren’t crying, but your nose is red from the cold. He wonders how long you had sat here waiting for him to arrive. How long have you been waiting for him in general?

“I have a lot of those, too,” he says. “I regret being unfair to you. For keeping people away from getting close to you, like a property meant to be hidden away. I tried to steal you for myself, but that’s not a very good thought, is it? I shouldn’t have thought that you were a thing to be kept. You should have been someone I treasured.”

“Then why didn’t you treasure me?” The question echoes loudly in Jungkook’s ears, as it’s the very same question that has weighed in his mind the moment he started to wonder where he’d gone wrong. Why hadn’t he loved you the way that he should have?

“Because I abused your love for me, even when I wasn’t aware of it,” he says plainly. He has known the answer for a while now but refused to accept it until this moment. It feels like a cork inside of him has burst, releasing all the foul, wretched things inside of him and out into the open. And once they start tumbling out, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop.

“I think we both knew we loved each other for as long as we can remember. We skirted around each other because we were scared of change, of losing the friendship we had built over the years. We purposefully ignored each other’s feelings and brushed off our friends’ attempts to help us realize something we already knew.”

“We did,” you say. “That was both our faults.”

“But I was never good at bottling up my feelings. It was only a matter of time before the love I had for you began to grow claws and fangs, and somehow along the way,” he pauses, a breath of sorrowful laughter escaping him, “I had gotten lost.”

Your expression morphs then, shifting from pain, to grief, to acceptance. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Your eyes look glazed over, like your mind is somewhere else. When you come back down, you already have another question for him. “Why didn’t you ever ask me out?”

He should just say something else, but he can’t help but wonder—”Why didn’t you?”

“I tried—a couple of times. You never noticed they were dates,” you shrug. A leaf from one of the nearby trees gets caught in your hair, and Jungkook reflexively plucks it out. You both freeze when his fingers graze your nape, gazes locking with one another. He jerks his hand back, but doesn’t look away—doesn’t dare to.

(It might be his last chance.)

“I’m sorry for being dense. For resorting to buying rumors so that I could pretend to date you when I could have asked for the real thing. I’m sorry for setting you up with… Namjoon,” he hesitates on his name, and you notice. “It must have confused you greatly, only worsening the doubt you must’ve had for me.”

“It did.” The corners of your eyes look wetter than before, tears dangerously close to the surface. “When I asked you if I should go to Ilsan the first time... You told me to go, even though everyone told me you were jealous of Namjoon. I was starting to believe them, hoping that maybe it was a sign that everything before then had just been a misunderstanding. But that was all you, wasn’t it? Why didn’t you tell me to stay?”

“It was a mistake,” he mutters. He shakes his head at the memory: a frequent recurring nightmare of his as he is forced to remember the moment everything had started to go downhill. “I had realized I was being a jealous asshole far too late, and I was trying to clear my own conscience. I thought that… if I let you go, then you’d think better of me. That I might be absolved of my sins if I took your trip as my penance. I didn’t think you were trying to see if I would stop you,” he explains, but it sounds like an excuse even to his ears.

You sit together, watching the sun begin to set, bathing the world in its orange hues. Jungkook feels empty, wrung out like a towel left to dry. The wounds inside him ache and throb, but he knows they won’t last. As surely as the sun will rise, he will also relearn to feel whole again—even if it means you won’t be there to see it.

“I waited for so long, Koo.” You shake your head, allowing a few traitorous tears to fall. You let out a watery laugh. “ I waited for this moment for so long, but I never imagined it would be like this.”

Jungkook studies his hands. He desperately wants to hold you one more time, but the ship has already sailed. “We’ve already sailed past each other a long time ago.”

You nod your head sadly. “We have.”

“Is it bad that I wish that we hadn’t?” he whispers, but he doesn’t really expect a response from you. He rubs his face, covertly trying to wipe his tears away. “I guess there’s a reason why you called me number two, huh?”

You can’t even force out a laugh. You sob unabashedly, cupping your face in your hands. This is the end.

This is the end of a great long adventure between you and him—the time for your roads to diverge closes in, like a shadow looming over their heads.

Jungkook wraps you in an embrace for the last time. You shake like a leaf in his arms, clutching at his chest like you don’t want to let go. He drinks you in, tries to commit everything about you to his memory. “Thank you for loving me, even if it didn’t work out. Thank you for being my first love.”

x x x x x

October 1, 2020 — 7:07 PM

Kim Namjoon opens the door to his childhood home the moment he hears footsteps climbing up the stairs. He’d done so numerous times already, spooking one or two of his neighbors at his sudden appearance. This time, however, he finds the person he had been waiting for.

“Oh, Y/N. Thank god,” he sighs in relief when he sees you, rushing out the door just as you finish taking the last stairstep. You wobble in surprise when you notice him, nearly falling over with a scream before he catches you by the waist to keep you steady. He pulls you close, pressing your face gently into his chest.

“I’m so sorry for everything. I’m so sorry for bringing you to Ilsan even though Yoongi told us not to go. I’m sorry for not telling you that I knew Jungkook and Hoseok were coming here, too. I’m so sorry for—”

“Namjoon,” you try to interrupt him, but he keeps going.

“—wanting you and Jungkook to reconcile even if you didn’t want you to leave me. You just looked so sad all the time, and I knew you needed to speak to him at least one more time so that you could find closure, but I should have asked you first like a decent person—”

“Namjoon,” you repeat. Namjoon pauses long enough to see that our eyes are red-rimmed from crying, further increasing the panic rising in his body.

“Oh god, I didn’t want you to be sadder! I just… God! I just wanted to help you for once, because you always helped me with everything. I know you deserve to make your own decisions, to be your own person, but I ignored that in favor of following my stupid gut—”

“Joonie, the neighbors can hear you,” you hiss, furtively glancing at the doors opening around them. You can feel many eyes on you, watching curiously at the red-faced idiot babbling like a man possessed. You motion for him to stop, but he’s too caught up in the moment.

“For a while, I thought I could stop myself from falling in love with you, but it was so hard! You have to understand how impossible it is not to love you. Believe me, I tried!” Namjoon all but shouts the last part out, shaking you by the shoulders. “I don’t deserve you! I’m just not a good boyfriend! I’m insecure to a fault, I’m boring, I have mild sleep apnea, I forget to throw out the empty milk cartons—”

You yelp as he continues to shake you, gently having to pry his hands off of you to save yourself from being shaken like a bobblehead. “Joonie,” you say, firmer this time.

He rambles and rambles and rambles. He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, hands gesticulating wildly like a human helicopter. He’s so wrapped up in his monologue that he doesn’t realize immediately when you take his hands in yours, forcing him to keep still.

“Joonie.”

“—and I’ve never been able to hold a relationship for longer than two months! My past girlfriend even left me after cheating on me the entire time—”

“Joonie.”

“I’ve never been good at being vulnerable and being myself, but you somehow managed to make me feel like I was worth something. You made me feel so so so incredibly loved. You made me feel important!”

“Kim Namjoon!” You shout, finally losing your temper and flicking him on the forehead. That finally manages to stop him, his eyes going cross-eyed like a cartoon character. You could almost see the flying stars orbiting his head. Properly silenced now, you push him back into his apartment, kicking the door with your foot before locking it for good measure.

When you turn back to face him, he’s still frozen where you left him. He stands in the middle of his living room like a robot, his mouth slightly agape as if his wires had been fried. Rolling your eyes goodnaturedly, you pull him to the couch, gently guiding him so that he doesn’t accidentally fall on his ass as he continues to short circuit in front of you. It takes him another whole minute to get his bearings together, but you’re a patient person. You sit in the adjacent armchair and wait for him to speak.

“Oh my god.” He swallows awkwardly, the color draining from his face. “What the hell did I do?”

“Welcome back to earth,” you smile, waving a hand in front of him. “Did you miss me?”

“I always miss you.” It seems as though Namjoon’s weird candor spell is still in effect. He has the presence of mind to be embarrassed this time, however, and you watch amusedly as his cheeks begin to redden. “I, umm…”

“Gave quite a show out there. I didn’t know you could rap,” you tease, your mouth curling up into a smile. The muscles in your cheeks feel sore, almost as if it has been ages since you last used them. This morning feels like it had happened eons ago.

“Sorry. I just… had a lot to say,” he replies lamely. He hangs his head, embarrassed to look you in the eye. “So… I’m guessing you spoke to Jungkook?”

He hears you hum in agreement, but you don’t say anything on the matter. Namjoon has never been one to pry, but his overactive brain can’t help but make connections out of nothing, trying to make sense of the world in desperation.

“I’m guessing you’re here to reject me, right? I’m sorry for confessing to you all of a sudden when you’re already spoken for. It was unfair of me, and you don’t need to try and spare my feelings at all. I’ve been prepared for this since August,” he speaks rapidly, nearly losing his breath in his haste. “It was my fault for thinking we could have happened. I mistook your kindness for reciprocation when I should have known better—”

“Joonie, my love. You’re rambling again.” Your voice snaps him back to reality. He turns redder somehow, sinking deep into his seat.

“S-sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” you huff, pouting in annoyance, but Namjoon catches the fondness in your eyes. “You aren’t unfair at all.”

“E-even so,” he stutters, heart hammering in his chest. “I shouldn’t have expected anything to happen between us. We were only going to fake date until the end of Chuseok, so it was foolish of me to try and… replace Jungkook, somehow. But I suppose, in the grand scheme of things… he’s a tough act to follow up to, huh? Seven years of loving someone is a long time. I don’t hold a candle to that,” he says dejectedly.

“But you do.” The words slip out before you can stop them. Your eyes widen, shocked by your own admission. Even so, you know what you said is true, and you wouldn’t take it back even if you could.

For a moment, you think he doesn’t hear it when he doesn’t react. It takes a second for his brain to buffer, but Namjoon had heard you, loud and clear.

“What do you mean?” His tone is soft, hesitant. Afraid, but hopeful.

You shrug your shoulders. You want to tell him everything, but you are impossibly tired, your eyelids like sandbags just waiting to fall. Namjoon must have noticed because he stumbles out of his seat with his arms outstretched, ready to keep you from slumping over.

“Woah, there. I’m sorry for interrogating when you must be exhausted. Do you want to take my bed instead of the couch tonight?” he asks, kneeling in front of you.

You blink sleepily at him, nodding with a large yawn. “I wanna talk to you but I’m tired,” you say, before promptly toppling onto him. He doesn’t flinch at your weight, catching you in an instant. He lets you nestle your face into his neck, and he grabs your arms until they’re laced around his shoulders. Slowly, he gets up with you in his arms, a feeling of weightlessness filling your senses. Safe.

When he tucks you into his bed, the sheets smell familiar and homey. Namjoon sits by the edge, brushing a few strands of hair away from your forehead. “Namjoon?” Your voice sounds muted to your own ears, as if you were underwater. But you don’t feel like you’re drowning, not at all.

“Yes?” He watches you with kind eyes, the same ones he has always had. To you, he looks like a prayer come to life, a promise ready to be fulfilled.

“You’ll be here? When I wake up?”

Namjoon exhales out a laugh, smiling sweetly. I love your dimples, you want to say, but your body feels heavy. Tomorrow. You’ll tell him for sure.

“Yes, Y/N. I’ll always be here. For as long as you want.”

You close your eyes. Tomorrow.

It’s a promise.

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spideyanakin · 3 years

Text

Dead Poets Society (Chapter 3)

Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis - 1959, your grandfather being the headmaster of Welton Academy - an all boys Boarding School, wanted you close to him after your parents death. Forcing you to join beyond any rules to be a student there. Despite strict rules you still fell in love with one. But Tom seems to be loosing the will to live when his strict family forces their wishes on him. Can one amazing teacher change your lives forever?

Series Masterlist 🍓

Normal Masterlist🧚🏼‍♀️

Chapter 3 - Almost Heaven

October 5

“I GOT THE PART!” A voice screamed from behind, tackling you into their arms and pressing a large kiss to your neck before pulling away quicker than it came.

“You did?” You met Tom’s sparkling eyes as he opened the door to his dorm.

“That’s amazing!” Harry chimed in. “Do I get a kiss too?” He raised an eyebrow and Tom rolled his eyes.

“I’m proud of you.” You smiled as you watched him removed his scarf and coat, jumping on his heels in anticipation.

“Alright now I need a permission letter.” He cracked his knuckles as he got his typewriter out.

“How are you going to get a permission slip from your father?” Harrison wondered from the corner of the room. He was looking down at a book and you realized you hadn’t even noticed him.

“Oh hey Haz!”

“Hey Y/n/n.” He still didn’t look up from his book. “Could you tell your husband he’s going to fall flat on his ass with this?” He mumbled and you let out a laugh.

“I’m not.” Tom rolled his eyes, his grin never leaving. “I’m going to forge a letter from my father to your grandfather and everything is going to go fine.” He nodded.

“It’s not going to work.” Harrison huffed as he flipped his page.

“Stop being so pessimist Haz! He’s going to be fine. If his father discovers anything we can just talk to him. Tom has the best grades and has done nothing but please him.”

November 1

“TOM WAIT FOR ME!” You giggled as you chased him down the hill towards the docks.

“THEN COME FASTER!”

“I DON’T WANT TO FALL AND SLIP ON THE SNOW!” You argued before finally catching up with him.

"You won't." He argued back and you bit your lip to stop smiling as you watched his pretty traits. The snow had rosed his nose and cheeks and you couldn't help but think he looked very handsome.

"If you keep running like that I will." You giggled before flipping the page of his copy of A Midsummer’s night dream and looked at him as a cue to start his line.

“How now, spirit! whither wander you?” He started to act and you smiled when you saw the spark in his eyes.

“Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire.” You continued. “I do wander everywhere Swifter than the moon’s sphere.” You both started walking into a circle, eying each other with mischievous glances. “And I serve the fairy queen” You lifted your head proudly as you read the lines, feeling into character yourself - you weren’t in the play but you enjoyed rehearsing with him a little too much. “To dew her orbs upon the green.” You continued the rest of your reply until it was time for his line.

“I love this.” He chuckled when you were done. “I love everything about this.” You smiled at his words. “And I love you!”

“I love you too.” You giggled at his sudden outburst. “Now it’s your line Puck.” You pointed to him with the book.

“The king doth keep his revels here tonight.” He wiggled his eyebrows which made you chuckle. “Take heed the queen come not within his sight!” He almost screamed, breathing in the cold air. “For Oberon is passing fell and wrat, Because that she, as her attendant hath” He pointed to you as you read over the book to make sure his lines were correct. “A lovely boy stolen from an Indian king.” Suddenly he ducked behind you and took you by surprise when you turned around to be smashed in the face with a snowball.

“YOU!” You stayed open-mouthed in shock for a second.

“Yes, my fairy?” He smirked and you huffed closing the book and putting it in your bag before grabbing some snow and throwing it at him.

“YOU MISCHIEVOUS LITTLE!” You raced him all around the lake, throwing snowballs at each other. Each of you managed to dodge some, while in some cases you ended up smashed in the face. “I SEE WHY YOU WERE CAST AS PUCK NOW!” You giggled.

You followed each other almost deep into the forest. It rang only with your laughter and the sound of the occasional bird going from a tree to the next.

“It’s as if the play has turned you into Robin Goodfellow himself.” You smirked as he was getting closer and closer to you. You were inches away and Tom was leaning in as to kiss you.

“So what?” He chuckled. “You want a divorce for fake merchandise?” He raised an eyebrow and you let out a loud laugh.

“No.” You leaned in as he did. “I don’t mind this side of you.” You smiled when your nose were almost touching. “I like it even.”

“Really?” He grinned.

“Kinda.” As these words escaped your mouth, the hand that was behind Tom’s back smashed to your face with a pile of snow. “YOU-” You screamed as he ran away laughing like an idiot.

November 24

You saw the month pass quicker than lighting.

It had all been late-night meetings with the poets, amazing English classes with Mr.Keating, sneaking off with Tom, and secret rehearsals with him.

It was all a wonderland of your own - life couldn't be better. It was Heaven.

"LEFT, RIGHT, LEFT, RIGHT, LEFT" Mr.Keating screamed making you giggle as you walked in a march-like stance in the middle of Harry and another boy you think was called Sticks - you didn't know, you never talked to him.

"Very good my friends." He smiled waving for you to stop walking. "You see, everyone started with their own pace." He started to explain. He elaborated more on the free-thinking of a walk before letting you all find your voice through your own walk.

You giggled when Tom and Sam bumped into you at the same time on purpose, accidentally making you lean on Harrison who slipped on ice and made a weird dance as he tried not to fall flat on the ground.

"Harrison, please try not to fall and break something, thank you." Mr.Keating nodded with a smile in his tone.

You left the class with a large smile on your face after Keating's class. It was the end of the day, meaning that it was time for you to head to the cave.

"You sure you can't come today?" You pouted as Tom was about to leave the school campus for his rehearsal.

"I promise I'll be finished in two hours and back at the meeting." He looked about to make sure no one around before squeezing your hand and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Alright..."

“You're parents collect pipes? That's very interesting.” you half coughed half chuckled as you inhaled a new puff of yours. Harry had brought a whole collection of pipes he had stolen from his parents. “This is awful by the way.” you chuckled and put it inside Harry’s saxophone.

“Hey!”

“Sorry.” You laughed. “It’s your pipe, handing it right back.”

“Your impossible.” He flipped his instrument so the pipe would fall back on the ground.

“How is everyone doing?” Tom walked into the cave with a happy smile and a lamp in his hand.

“Tom!” You screamed with a giddy smile on your lips at the sight of your husband.

He leaned down to kiss you, and you reached your hand to hold his neck as the kiss deepened. You smiled into the kiss when the boys started complaining and Tom pushed away from you. He dropped the lamp on a rock behind you before removing his scarf and coat.

“What this?” Harry asked as Tom took it back in his hand and removed the lampshade.

“Can’t you see it’s a lamp?” Paddy scoffed.

“No.” he smiled. “It’s the god of the cave.” He explained as he grabbed the matchbox from the middle of the circle.

“The god of the cave.” You repeated with a smile as you watched Tom light it up. “I like it.”

“I knew you would.” He locked your lips into a new kiss, missing your touch from the long day of classes and hours of rehearsal.

“I say we restart this meeting this Tom's around.” Harry raised his voice before putting the saxophone to his lips and starting to play.

First, it sounded like nothing until he started playing something that actually sounded nice. You all stared at him play, everyone falling into a comfortable silence.

Sam looked at Harry and realized something as the music filled the cave.

“I can’t do this.” He mumbled when Harry’s music died down. “I’m going to kill myself if I don’t get Chris.”

“Hey don’t say that.” You scolded and his stare turned to you.

“I have to be with her.” He suddenly stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“To call her!”

November 28

You finished reciting a poem, coming to sit back next to Tom as the meeting went on. You were about to ask something to Paddy when Harry walked into the room, a girl on each arm.

You shared a look with Tom and raised an eyebrow. The girls were a giggling mess. They stunk of Alcohol and looked like poodles owned by grandmas.

“Everyone.” He stumbled into the cave with the girls. “This is Carol.” He pointed to the brunette. “And...” He trailed on his words as he looked at the blond.

“Tina.” She squeaked like she was offended, but Harry just grinned.

“Tiiinaaa” He nodded his head with a smirk. They all sat down and an awkward silence filled the meeting.

“So... aren’t you going to start the meeting?” Carol wondering as she played around with a strand of her hair.

“Yeah how do we know if we want to join if you don't start the meeting.” Tina nodded chewing her gum a little loudly.

“Join?” You looked at Harry with raised eyebrows.

“Hey- So you’re not the only girl here!”

“If you’re doing this for me you don’t have to Harry.”

“I’m not just doing this for you.” He rolled his eyes with a light smile as he took a sip of a bottle Carol had handed him. “I’m doing this for me, Paddy and Haz.” He smirked.

“Alright... Well, the meeting has already started...” You gave the rest of the boys an awkward glance. They all looked just as uncomfortable as you felt.

The next hour was a mix of awkward silences, and side glances with Tom, Paddy, and Harrison. Each time you mentioned a very good poem the girls judges it as old. And you didn’t feel like reading your own poetry. The Dead Poets were about expressing yourself and spilling your gut. This meeting felt like it was judged by two drunken pair of eyes.

After what felt like hours later, the girls finally left leaving a sobered-up Harry behind.

Harry didn’t share a word and sighed as he leaned back on the rocks behind him.

“Why?” was all he said.

“Why what?”

“Why are almost every girl on this planet like the two that just came by?” He sighed and you could feel the pain in his eyes. “Why are you... and maybe Chris I’ve never met her I can’t judge - so amazing and wonderful and just- AGH” He let out a scream of frustration.

“Hey - Harry you’ll find the girl of your dreams don’t worry.”

“You’re taken.” He argued.

“Harry.” Tom warned and his friend let out a sad laugh.

At the same time, Sam walked into the cave, gave out a large sigh, and laid in the middle.

“How did the party go?” You smirked. After Sam had called Chris the other day, he had been invited to a party, and you were dying to know how it went.

“You don’t want to know.” He gulped as he sat up.

“What why? I thought it was supposed to amazing? Finally being able to see Chris and be at a party she invited you to.”

“I kissed her on the forehead and her boyfriend hit me.”

“Oh my,” You carefully looked at his face. “Jesus Christ Sam you have a black eye.” You took Sam’s face in your hands and delicately traced your thumb over his bruised eye. He nodded in your hands.

“Sam, what are we going to do with you?” You murmured.

“I don’t know...” He grumbled and sighed, not meeting your eyes. “But I love her!”

“I know you do... But please don’t get punched by her brute boyfriend again. I don’t want to find my best friend in pieces, please. Or have to beat the crap out of him for hurting you myself.” You smirk making Sam laugh.

“Thanks.”

“Is that why you’re back so early?” Tom wondered. It didn’t feel late at least. “What time is it anyway.”

Paddy looked at his watch “It's 12:01″

November 29

Your hands slipped away from Sam’s face as you realized it was past midnight. You looked at Tom whose eyes were already on you.

“Happy two months anniversary.” He smiled.

“Happy two months anniversary right back.” You giggled as he wrapped his arms around you and kissed your temple.

“If you guys wanna make out can you at least find another cave?” Paddy grumbled and you let out a laugh.

“No,” You shook your head. “I like having these meetings.” You chuckled as you melted into Tom’s arms. "We can wait."

“See why can’t this be Chris and I” Sam dropped his arms in surrender and you could see the sadness in his eyes making your traits softened.

“Sam, you're going to find it one day. Why do I feel like I’ve done this speech 10 seconds ago!?” You turned to Tom who shrugged his shoulders. “Sam - you’ll find her whether it's with Chris or another girl - but I promise that someday you'll find the most wonderful girl in the world, and you'll want to spend the rest of your life with her and she'll want to too."

"You and Chris are the most wonderful girls in the world." He sighed and looked down at the ground. "I'll be with Chris someday - You'll see."

And he did everything to be with her.

December 13

“You shine like the moonlight-”

“What are you doing?” Tom interrupted Sam as he wrapped an arm around you. “Sam why did I just hear you recite a love poem to my wife?” He raised an eyebrow making you giggle.

“He’s practicing. He’s going to Chris’s School today and admit his love.”

“Interesting.”

December 14

You made your way towards the boys' dormitories, almost reaching Tom’s when you heard a deep voice coming from where you were heading.

You recognized it - it was Tom’s father.

“But father the performance is tomorrow night! They need me!”

“You will not go - is that clear? I am not letting you throw your life away.”

“But father-”

You froze in your steps as you heard the coldness of his voice. It was his son! Why couldn't he be happy for him? You felt your fist form into a ball at his words.

There was more arguing until he left the dorm and you knew you were going to end up face to face with him.

You gave him a nod and his death glare didn’t help. You weren’t stupid, you knew he was going to watch you and see where you were heading, so you knocked on Harry’s door.

“Oh hey Y/n/n” Harry opened the door with a quizzical smile.

"Hey Harry! Do you have another copy of that book with the poem Mr.Keating asked us to learn for yesterday? I can't find mine." the look on your face told him to cooperate with your words.

"Um y-yeah" You engaged in a conversation until you were sure that Mr.Holland was out of earshot.

"Did you hear that?" You wondered once you were sure he was far enough. Harry nodded with concerned eyes.

Tom's door opened and a frustrated Tom got out of it. He loudly sighed and almost slammed his door before noticing you.

"Y/n" He managed a smile. "I was just going to see you."

December 15

You walked into the snowy forest, enjoying a quiet moment with Tom. Glad you finally got some time off from your long school hours.

You let out a shriek as you felt yourself falling. You hung on to Tom’s arm as you slipped bringing him down with you.

You both chuckled and looked like each other like two idiots with leaves stuck to your hair. You intertwined his hand in yours as you took each other in for a few minutes, not wanting to stand up.

The moment was too peaceful to be broken.

“I’m glad that Sam is finally going after his girl.” You smiled. “I’m proud of what he did. I talked to Sam when he got back, and he swore he saw her smile.”

“Yeah.” Tom turned his head around to look at the sky.

For a few seconds, it was only the sound of the wind in the trees and birds chirping.

“You’re going to do great tonight. I’m sure of it.” You squeezed his hand.

“Thank you.” He gave you a short smile as he brought his stare back to you.

“Is your father going to be there?” You asked him, your voice all quiet. "You know? Do you think he's going to go, see if you've disobeyed him?" You played with his fingers. “After what he told you yesterday...”

He gave out a large sigh. “I don’t know. And I don’t want to know.” You watched his eyes and you could swear they were getting glossy but he was pushing the tears away.

“Y/n” He turned to you “What’s the point of living if he’s going to make my entire life hell?” He questioned you as he looked back to the sky.

“Because it doesn’t have to be that way.” You stood up and held his shoulder so he’d look at you. He took you in for a second, looking at how pretty you looked with the rays of sunlight that crept from the tree branches.

“You could stand up to him.” You said, feeling something weird in his stare.

“He won’t listen.” He shook his head. “When he discovers I still did the play I’ll be out of Welton and to another school that I bet will have prison bars on the windows.” His eyes were now fully glossy. “I won’t get to see you every day. You’ll be miles away from me - and he’ll make sure that I don’t see you until I have to run away to see you.” He closed his eyes and sighed.

“He won't.” You nodded. “He won’t because I’ll give him a piece of my mind. And you will too!” You looked back at him and saw his eyes glued on you.

“It doesn’t work like that darling.” He brought a hand up to cup your cheek, you melted into his touch. “I don’t want to live If I’m not going to be with you every day.”

“Don’t say that.” A sudden dark thought went through you. “He won’t take you out of Welton, he won’t make your life hell if you just talk to him.”

“Y/n... I love you, so much.” His voice got quiet.

“I love you too.” You managed a smile and brought a kiss to his lips before resting back on the soft mass of fallen leaves.

You looked up and inspected the beautiful scenery. Always feeling Tom’s stare on you.

“You keep staring at me.” You giggled as you turned your head.

“I know.” He gave you a smile and you rolled your eyes. He sat up and leaned over you so you were face to face.

You fixed a few strands of his hair and kissed his cheek. Before you could pull away he kept you close and trailed kisses from your cheek to your lips.

“If my father finds out - and still is mad...” He looked away and gulped before looking back at you. “Know that I love you.” He bumped your nose with his. “I love you with the light of a thousand stars. You're my love, my wife, my everything.” He caught your lips in his, kissing you like it was the last time your lips would ever meet, and you could feel it. Something was off and you knew it was.

“Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?” You breathed once he pulled away.

“I’m not saying goodbye.” He chuckled your worries off but you sensed the sadness in it. “Why would you think that?”

“The way you kissed me.” You placed a hand on his upper arm to keep him from going as you saw him shuffle on his spot.

“Honey, I’m going to be late.” You sat up when he was. starting to make his way up. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Tom.” You held his hand tighter so he wouldn’t let go. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“What? What do you mean?” He chuckled it off but his voice gave him away. “I’ll see you after the play, I love you.”

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#Tom Holland x reader #Tom Holland x you #Tom Holland x y/n #Tom Holland imagine #Tom Holland #dead poet society au #dead poet society fan fiction #dps au #dps #Peter Parker x reader #Peter Parker x you #Peter Parker x y/n #Peter Parker imagine #spider man imagine #spider man x reader

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keepthyfaithandthylight · 3 years

Text

Reincarnation au part 3

After quite the tiring day, Max at last got to walk around the city as he always did. That is when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

Max wasn’t necessarily expecting any texts or calls, and immediately assumed it was Augustin, and that perhaps something bad had happened.

Either way, I should probably check it.

He then sat down on the nearest bench, and pulled out his phone. To his surprise, however, the message was not from Augustin.

Camille:

It’s been a while since we last talked, figured I would check in on you and remind you that I haven’t forgotten you. How’s school going this year?

Max swallowed his joy upon seeing the name. It wasn’t necessarily proper to start giggling like a school child with pure excitement in the middle of the street, after all.

‘School is.. different. Glad to hear from you though. How’s Lucile?’

Max watched the people rush by as he waited for a response, and as usual he did not have to wait long to receive one.

Camille:

She’s good! Really stressed though, she and her mom are trying to plan. I've tried helping but I’m not really good at that kind of stuff. At this point I’m just moral support lol.

Max chuckled, he could see it perfectly. All of them gathered around the kitchen table, making input. Lucile was probably the one to tell him to simply be moral support.

‘Oh? Well I’m glad to hear that she’s doing well aside from that. How about you?’

Max stared, and almost immediately the dots popped up on screen. Most of the time, Camille was good at responding in a timely manner.

Camille:

I’m doing good myself, mostly just over the moon excited. I had something to ask of you, Max.

Max frowned. The phrasing was worrying.

‘What would that happen to be?’

He asked, and then there was a pause of about 30 seconds before the dots popped up again.

Camille:

Well, you’ve been a really good friend of mine for years now so I was figuring maybe you could, you know, be best man at the wedding. Totally your choice, of course.

Max began to smile, already typing out his response.

‘Of course I’ll be best man at your wedding, Camille. Why you’d think you even have to ask is beyond me, you could have simply told me to be best man at your wedding and I would have agreed.’

He chuckled, lightly. It was true, of course.

Camille:

Lol. It’s polite to do, I figured you wouldn’t really want to if you were voluntold. Anyway, have you gotten a replacement for me yet? Haha

Max rolled his eyes at Camille’s wording. If he was there he would most likely be smacking him upside the head.

‘Yeah, and Camille stop saying replacement. No person is replaceable.’

The dots began immediately.

Camille:

Alright whatever you say Socrates. I’ll have to message you later, needed for moral support again.

Max chuckled once more at his phone.

‘Alright, take care. Tell Lucile I said hello.’

He watched as ‘read’ appeared under the text, before sliding his phone back into his pocket and standing to his feet.

Mind as well get some more coffee.

Slowly, he made his way down the street, to the coffee shop that he always visited. The bell jingled as he opened the door, and the barista looked up.

“Max! It’s been a few months!” She called, happily, her cheeks nearly split with the grin on her face. He smiled back at her and nodded. “The usual?” She asked, and he nodded once more.

“I’m surprised you remember.” Max commented, amused, watching the barista hurry around like a bee.

“Oh please, that’s one of the most common drinks I make. Probably because you’ve always been the most frequent customer. I’m pretty sure you have a caffeine addiction.” The young girl commented, with a shrug.

“Perhaps, but hey it won’t kill me so I don’t see a problem with it.” Max replied, returning her shrug, watching as the girl snickered.

“Well if you drink too much at one time it will.” She stated, with an amused expression, the bleached ends of her hair falling in front of her face. “Either way, more business for my manager I suppose.” She sighed, Max seeing an opportunity for humor.

“All I am to you is a paycheck?” He asked, mischievously, earning an eyeroll from the barista.

“No, Max, you’re my friend. I was making a point.” She replied, before handing him his cup of coffee. “$9.57.” Max dug around in his pocket for his wallet.

“Let me tell you I have had the strangest day today.” He said, and the girl looked up with a raised brow, only for a moment.

“How so?” She asked, returning to busying herself cleaning.

“Well it’s mostly my art history teacher, she seems normal aside from the fact that she acts like she knows something I don’t. About myself.” He replied, already drinking a swig of coffee.

“Hmm.. maybe she’s a witch.” Commented the barista, sounding abnormally serious in her comment.

“I doubt that, but..” Max responded, holding his coffee close to his chest.

“I was joking.”

“Oh.” He chuckled lightly at his misstep, smiling fondly to himself. Just then, the bell jingled as a seemingly overworked man walked in. He looked strangely familiar, but again a lot of people did to Max at this point. “I’ll get going, it was lovely seeing you again Sandy!” He called, already halfway out the door.

“You too Max!” Replied the girl, before turning to the hunched over man.

Ok. What on Earth is happening.

***

“-yeah, I would say that is pretty weird. Though, the same thing has happened to me a few times so I wouldn’t say it’s out of the ordinary too much.” Said Antoine, who sat aggressively drying his hair with a towel.

“That’s reassuring.” Said Max, tiredly, as he stared up at the ceiling. “But why is it happening? It’s like some weirdly intense deja vu that only happens in certain situations with certain people. I don’t think I like it at all.” He continued, desperate for some sort of answer. Obviously he wasn’t expecting one, his roommate was not God.

“I dunno, but that just about sums it up. I know that Georges guy has had it happen too. He literally stopped me before I was about to leave. Was really weird, not sure I like him.” Antoine stated.

“Really?” Max asked, hesitantly, looking to the side.

“Yeah. Maybe we should all just have group therapy or something, in a circle of metal foldable chairs.” Antoine replied, with a shrug.

“How would we even arrange that?-“

“I was joking.”

“Oh-“ silence. “Did Ms. Rozzero happen to say anything to you today?” Max asked again, nervously.

“Not really, no. She barely even acknowledged the fact that I exist.” Antoine answered. “But from what I could see she is abnormally fond of you. To the point where it’s weird, like., creepy weird.” He continued, before shuddering, face wrought with discomfort in the situation.

“Now I feel a little better about being weirded out. As in, I feel like less of a jerk.” Max stated, staring at his hands as he sat up.

“Don’t worry about it, honestly, I would be weirded out too. Im already pretty weirded out actually.” Antoine commented. The street lamp filtered in from outside the window, giving the room a faint orange glow. If Max wasn’t feeling so uneasy, he would have quite enjoyed it. “If she keeps doing it bring it up to her though, maybe we’ll all have to team up and get her to stop. I mean, even the football kid noticed, with his sheer size he could be pretty intimidating, and as much as I do not like the guy he could be an ally in this situation.” The younger continued, before looking over at Max with a look of concern.

“Yeah, I guess your right.” The latter sighed, before suddenly becoming his more optimistic self again. “Anyway, wanna just swing down to the Chinese restaurant really quick and get some take out?” He suggested, watching the smile form on his roommates face.

“Hell yeah.”

#frev #claws out for the main 5 #frev but make it a poorly written reincarnation au.#these are getting worse and worse the more I write them.

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itstittycitybaby · 4 years

Text

From the Ashes We are Born (Part 6)

A/N: I apologize that this is very late. I have been going through some things recently and haven’t had the energy to write or post anything. But, here we are.

Summary: You wake up late at night without your vigilante boyfriend by your side. Just where did he go?

Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

The spot on the bed next to you was empty. The sheet was crinkled and cool to the touch. Where was V? The night was still high; the moon peeked through the curtains. His blanket that he used was rumpled and carelessly thrown to the side. It was unlike V to be so careless and messy. A week had passed after the night you had kissed V. You smiled at the thought. Though, you felt a pang of loneliness that your masked vigilante had disappeared. Stretching over to the side of your bed you tugged on the lamp cord. The bulb flickered for a second before your side of the room became flooded with light. You squinted to adjust to the sudden change of light. The bedside tables were barren; V would warn you ahead of time if he had to leave either writing a note or telling you himself. So, where did he go?

You stretched your body once you sat up. A sigh left your lips once your muscles became less tense. The room felt empty without the masked gentleman. His presence was charming and warm. Without it, everything felt ghostly. Slowly, you pulled your blanket off of you. Getting caught in the bed’s sheets would cause a disruption. Anxiety pooled in your belly as you shuffled to the bedroom door. V was a light sleeper, so surely there wasn’t an intruder? If there was, he would not leave you defenseless. Not that I can’t take of them myself, you thought smugly. Alerting your boyfriend was not the best idea, for god knows why V decided to leave you. He was watchful of his surroundings, but you didn’t want to get a knife lodged in your stomach, no thank you. With caution you slowly turned the knob and quietly opened the door. Leaving it ajar, you crept through the gallery using your hands as a guide. You laughed silently at the memory of V being so awkward about sharing a bed. “V?” “Yes?” You looked confused as you stood there, looking at him. “Aren’t you coming,” you asked, throwing your head in the direction of the room. “Ah, well you see, my incredible song bird, I didn’t want to make things difficult and awkward. I shall sleep on the sofa.” Your stare unnerved V as he stood there waiting for you to retire to the room. A laugh bubbled from your chest and before long it echoed throughout the gallery. V cocked his head as he stood there. Were you mocking him? “Sorry, sorry,” you huffed, “It’s just so cute. We’ve known each other for seven months now V. Come to bed.” V stood there, gaping underneath his mask. “A-alright,” he stammered. You tried not to laugh at how eager he seemed as he dashed towards the room.

It was silent in the Shadow Gallery. The mute thudding sound in your ears was the only thing you could hear. It was dark, incredibly dark. Your eyes squinted, trying to peer through the darkness. Guiding yourself with your hands you whispered, “V?” Silence. “Oh he is so sleeping on the couch tomorrow,” you scoffed after almost pissing yourself from barely crashing into a suit of armour. Creeping through the living room, that’s when you heard it. Crash! The blood in your veins felt cold as your stomach lept into your throat. You trembled from the adrenaline racing through your veins. Fight, run, or hide. Shit. Where the fuck is V! You jumped at another crash. It sounded like glass shattering onto the floor. “V,” you whisper shouted. Sending a quick prayer to whatever god that was listening, you quickened your pace. Further into the hall the light was on. Its rays were soft causing you to squint. That’s when you heard it: sobbing. “Oh hell no,” you whispered. “I am not getting fucked by a demon.” Something caught your eye to the left. You froze. It was one of those pokey fire things that V used for the fireplace. Your hands slowly grasped it and you held it tightly, just in case. The crying still continued as you creeped to the doorway.

Your eyes widened as you realized: V, your V was crying. Rage bubbled up inside of you at the thought of someone hurting your V. Your feet padded to the room and you came to a halt at the sight that lay before you. The vanities your boyfriend took pride in were now shattered and destroyed. V’s figure was hunched over and cries escaped his lips. Glass was scattered across the floor, glistening in the light. You immediately regretted not wearing shoes. Next to him, discarded, was the guy fawkes mask that was thrown to the floor. You couldn’t see his face,but you knew he wouldn’t want you to. His back was turned to you, but you could him cradling his hands. “V,” you whispered softly, “V what happened.” The makeshift weapon you had brought with you clattered to the floor once you threw it. His hands immediately went to his mask on the floor as he fumbled to get it. Then, you saw how bloody V’s hands were; there were small cuts along the fingers and the back of his hands. Blood had started to travel down the side of his hands. V’s back tensed up once he heard his love in the room with him. This was not a sight you were supposed to see. “Leave it, please,” you said gently. “I won’t look I promise.” You felt your heart break at the sound of sniffles he tried so hard to cover. V’s hand hovered over it, debating, but it fell by his side. Your heart soared; he trusted you. “You don’t have to say anything but I’m coming over to you alright?” Nothing. You were anxious as you cautiously made your way to your lover. Not only because of the glass and your bare feet, but because of what he might do. Would he strike in anger? Would V hurt you?

No. You reassured yourself. He trusts us and we need to trust him. V would never hurt us. You had made your way through the glass and gently grasped his shoulder. You cursed softly as glass nicked your foot. Shaking it off, you carefully trekked through the room. V’s shoulders dropped once he felt your hand squeeze his shoulder softly. “I’m gonna move towards you okay? I’ll keep my eyes closed. Feel free to hide your face with your hands if you want,” you said. V nodded in reply. Finally a response. Your eyes fluttered shut. You were a bit nervous moving around in a dangerous area with them closed, but you didn’t want to destroy V’s trust. Holding onto his shoulders, you carefully bent down to swipe away at any shards at the floor. Your hand felt shaky on his broad shoulders as you made your way in front of him. You cheered silently once you safely made it. “Can I hug you V,” you asked as you kneeled in front of him. It was silent for a few moments before a croaked “yes” came out. Heart sinking, you carefully scooted towards him. You held your hands in front of him and felt relieved once you felt his thighs. V sounded so broken and lost. Your hands snaked up to his chest as you tried to reach his shoulders. He’s too damn tall. You huffed as you tried again. If V wasn’t so upset he would have laughed. Instead, he grasped his hand with yours and pulled you into his lap.

A squeak of surprise came from your lips as V shuffled you comfortably. Thank god my eyes are still shut. You would not betray V and destroy the trust you so rightfully earned. A soft groan left your boyfriend’s lips as you accidentally squirmed in his lap. “S-sorry,” you exclaimed, embarrassed. It was almost as if God was giving you a test. You couldn’t get the thought of your legs straddling V’s thighs and his groin underneath your ass. Stop it! Now is NOT the time! Shaking yourself out of your thoughts you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and embraced him. Your arms held him tightly and you gave him a nice squeeze. V’s breath tickled your neck and his hands slowly snaked around your waist pulling you close. You would deal with his hands later, but right now he needed you.V tried not to think about how you must’ve felt when his hands touched you. Your skin was soft and smooth compared to his scarred and rough hands. You kept your word; you didn’t try and take a peek at his bare face. V was touched by the notion and how your comforting touches made him relax. “Breathe, just breathe,” you whispered as you helped him inhale and exhale. V’s heart swelled when you gently placed your head on his shoulder. He figured your eyes were open now that his face was hidden from your view. He couldn’t bring himself to care. V’s eyes blurred with tears and his face felt hot. How ugly he must’ve looked, he thought to himself. How disgusted you must be. “Hey, it’s okay to cry,” you cooed, trying to soothe V as he shook beneath you and a whimper escaped his throat. “There’s nothing wrong with crying. I am not going to judge you for it, V.” He struggled to swallow the lump in his throat as hushed tears trailed down his cheeks. He probably looked like a blubbery baby, but the mirrors were destroyed thanks to his fit of rage.

A strangled cry left his throat before he could manage to suppress it. “Do you wanna talk about it?” V shook his head no. “Okay,” you whispered, “That’s okay, I won’t force you. I’m right here and everything is gonna be okay.” V squeezed you tighter and held you closer to him. His chest was pressed up against yours and his hair tickled your skin. Who had hurt V to make him like this? What hurt V to cause him to destroy his vanities and tear the room apart? He was normally so calm and controlled, but now he was so broken. “V?” A shuddering breath left him as he tried to form words. “Take your time honey, there’s no rush,” you said, kissing his shoulder.

“Hm,” V croaked after he regained his breath. “Can I kiss you? It can be with your mask on if you’d like. If you don’t want to that’s fine.” He nodded. You smiled,” Do you wanna put on your mask or?” V shook his head. “Alright, I’ll close my eyes.” You shifted around on his lap, unwrapping your arms. Closing your eyes, you grasped his shoulder. V’s hands grabbed your waist to keep you steady. Heart pounding, you slowly put your lips to his. You missed them. V lightly nibbled your lips, causing you to sigh. His tongue softly parted your lips and caressed yours. Your noses brushed up a bit and he tensed. You pulled away quickly after the mistake you made. V’s nose was rough and you could tell it was scarred like his hands. Your eyes were still closed and you tried to move away but accidentally bumped his cheek. V inhaled sharply. You flinched; preparing yourself to be thrown off of V’s lap and be screamed at but it was eerily silent. “Sorry, I-I-” “It’s alright, my beautiful dove,” V’s voice rumbled. The aura surrounding him seemed insecure and scared. Your fearless V who looked death in the eyes they were friends was scared. “You know, I’m not grossed out with your skin. It’s the exact opposite. I think you’re beautiful, V.” He stared at your closed eyes and swept his fingers across your waist. You shivered at the touch. You perked up at the sound of the rustling of his mask. V’s hands left your waist as he slipped his mask back on.“You can open your eyes again, if you’d like.” The sight of V welcomed you as your eyes opened again. It was a bit unnerving seeing the smiling mask staring at you, when V was far from being joyful. At least he felt a bit better, though. Giving him a peck on the cheek you slid off of him. You tippy toed around the glass as you stood.. “You should’ve told me you were barefoot,” V said once he stood. “I don’t mind, but I need to get your hands cleaned.” “I won’t allow it, I can tend to them myself.” You gave V a look. “Go in the kitchen and wait for me so I can clean your cuts V,” you said sternly. He sighed and nodded as he left the room. You tried not to laugh at the way he reminded you of a scolded child. “Well, this is gonna be one hell of a mess to clean up.”

The kitchen light illuminated your masked boyfriend sitting at the kitchen table. The lights were dimmed making V look so soft and vulnerable. The first aid kit sat patiently on the table waiting for you. Before you tended V’s hands you made sure to put raspberry tea brewing on the stove. You didn’t really like hot tea, but it was V’s favourite. “Helps soothe the soul,” he had told you one lonely night. You set the kettle on the stove top and sat in the chair in front of him. “Would you like me to wear gloves for this,” you asked. V still wasn’t comfortable with the fact of you seeing, let alone touching his skin. Slow progress was being made, though. Slow and nervous touches at night without his gloves. “It’s alright, you don’t have to,” he replied softly. A smile crossed your lips, “Thank you for trusting me, hun. I really appreciate it.” Gently, your fingers wrapped around his wrist. Your fingers stroked his wrists as you dabbed a cotton ball into some rubbing alcohol. “This’ll sting good,” you warned, trying to prepare him. V let out a soft hiss as you gently swiped the cotton onto his wounds. “Sorry,” you murmured. It was silent in the kitchen as you worked but you didn’t mind. Once that hand was finished you grabbed the bandage and wrapped it around his fingers and hand. “Should I be disheartened at your skill of tending wounds,” V asked as you secured the bandage. He was a bit surprised. Granted, anyone could swab alcohol onto a wound, but bandaging one was tricky for most people. But you weren’t most people, V told himself. You chuckled. “My dad was bat shit crazy. I’d have to clean and wrap myself sometimes and the children in the church. He and the congregation were recognized by Sutler. If you make a mistake….,” you trailed off.

V knew all too well of what happened. His skin was a prime example of what Sutler was capable of. Something V had to be reminded of for the rest of his life every time his reflection stared back at him. “I’m very sorry,” he said after a while. You sighed, carefully lifting his wrapped hands to your lips. “It’s okay, he can’t hurt me anymore.” Gently, you kissed each of his fingers and knuckles. You carefully turned them over and kissed the inside of V’s palms too. “I had a nightmare,” V said a bit breathlessly. God, you would be the death of him. No words were said, you just held his hands for some sort of support. “They had taken you. I thought I was alone again.” You didn’t have to ask who they was;you already knew. “You aren’t alone, V. You don’t have to hide from me. If there’s something upsetting you I would like to know. You don’t have to tell me what it is, just please let me help you. You are not alone anymore.”“I know. It’s difficult for me to believe this is real, that you’re real. I’m afraid that..” You let go of his hands and towered over him, giving him a tight hug. V sunk into your embrace, his arms resting across your back. You kissed the top of his head before pulling away. “I promise that I’m here V. This isn’t a dream. I’m real, I swear.” “Thank you,” V said softly. “Of course. Go in the living room and put on a movie. I’ll bring you a cup of tea and we’ll watch it together.” V nodded before leaving the kitchen. Sighing, you grabbed two mugs and prepared them. You grabbed one sugar for V and three for you. Carefully, you wrapped your fingers around both mugs and hurried to the living room.

You smiled at the T.V. screen. Count of Monte Christo, how surprising V. Setting the mugs on the coffee table, you hopped onto the couch. A giggle left your mouth once you noticed V was already glued to the screen. “What,” he asked, turning to you. “Nothing love,” you chuckled. You took a sip of your tea. V’s mug was still left untouched, which wasn’t unexpected. He’ll probably drink it in the morning. Out of the corner of your eyes you could see V glancing at you. His mask would continue to watch the screen, but you could feel his eyes watching you. Sighing, you reached forward and set down your mug your onto the coffee table. “C’mere.” Almost instantly, V softly placed his head onto your lap, facing the T.V. once more. A smile graced your lips as you rubbed his back soothingly. How funny this must have looked; London’s most wanted criminal being taken care of by his girlfriend. You almost laughed at the thought. How scary they thought V was when really he was just a big old bear. Your heart swelled as V quoted the movie and intently focused on it. What a nerd. Eventually, the soft breathing from V caught your attention. “V?” A snore escaped from the mask. You snorted. Carefully peeling your boyfriend off you, you made your way to the kitchen. V’s soft snores filled the room. You snorted, usually he would wake up instantly without your presence next to him. Grabbing the broom and dustpan you hurried to the mess that waited for you.

V was still sleeping as you made your way to the living room. His body looked more relieved. Finally, he could get some rest. “V,” you said gently, shaking him awake. “V.” His voice sounded sleepy as he mumbled a “yes?” V noticed the telly was off and both mugs had left the table. He was a bit disheartened at the idea of time passing as he slept. “Let’s go to bed, yea?” V nodded as he got up. He wrapped his bandaged hand around yours. You shot him a smile as you led him to the bedroom. Dawn was just arising and the both of you needed some rest. V was exhausted and almost crashed as soon as the bed enveloped him. The both of you fell asleep in each other’s arms as the sun kissed London awake.

#V for Vendetta #v for vendetta x reader #angst #hurt/comfort

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littlemisslol-fic · 4 years

Note

44 (Puppy love) and 20 (Breaking the rules) for Varian and Hugo? I just want dumb boys doing dumb things together,,,, UggHhHH

Hey anon!! Thanks for the ask! I merged both of these into one story, but it’s basically a full fledged oneshot by now so oops. Have some modern-day-au-varigo!!

44 (Puppy love) and 20 (Breaking the rules)

“We’re going to get into so much trouble…”

Hugo looks at him like he’s lost his mind.

“What’s wrong, goggles?” The blond laughs, “Scared?”

Varian bristles at the taunt, scowling. He shifts awkwardly- his shoes scuff the dirt in a way that only accents how stressed out he feels. The forest around them sings with birdsong, the rustle of trees in the wind, and the gentle snip-snip of Hugo’s wire cutters. The moon shines down on them, full and bright, a hole punched in the middle of the sky surrounded with starry shrapnel.

Varian’s hoodie- Hugo’s hoodie that he’d stolen, actually, not that he’d admit it- is soft and warm around him, the green fabric surrounding him like a hug. Hugo grins like an animal, and turns back to the fence in front of them. Varian watches with apprehension as Hugo snips away at it, chopping an ugly, but functional entrance.

“I’m not scared.” Varian finally mutters, shifting his weight again. The late August air is still warm, but starting to cool the closer they get to midnight. “I’m just… concerned.”

“Sure, Var,” Hugo laughs, sticking out his tongue as he snips at the last of the fence. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Varian scowls again, flushing. The woods around them are dark, but Varian isn’t concerned about that- he grew up here in the small town of Old Corona, after all, he knew these woods like the back of his hand- no, what scares him is the idea of getting caught.

“Seriously, Hugo, if we get caught my dad’s gunna-”

“Flip out?” Hugo blows a lock of blond hair out of his face as he snips at the last of the wire. “Yeah, I know. That’s why we’re not going to get caught.”

Varian grits his teeth. Hugo, content with snipping the final chunk of fence, stands back up and shoves the wire cutters in his backpack. With a rough kick- Varian cringes at the noise, blue eyes scanning the treeline frantically- Hugo’s perfectly cut square goes flying away from the fence, leaving a doorway chopped out of the wire.

“See, easy.” Hugo grins. Varian scoffs, but when the blond offers him a hand he takes it. Hugo leads him through the hole in the fence and Varian follows with a grumble; as much as he’s bitching he’s curious about what exactly his boyfriend is up to. Hugo was nothing if not spontaneous, showing up at Varian’s house at nearly eleven at night and dragging him through the woods towards one of the only dangerous places in Old Corona.

The old fairgrounds, while only recently abandoned, had been locked tight for two years. Varian can’t help but look around in awe, seeing the way that the rusting metal and cracked concrete are slowly being overtaken by nature once again. It’s dark, the kind of inky black you can’t see inside the city, the kind that makes the milky way above so vibrant and bright in comparison- like a river of stars snaking across the night sky.

Varian can’t help but stop, just looking up and into the sky. Hugo pauses, grinning and letting him stare. Varian doesn’t get out much- not with his usual obligations as the mayor’s son- and these are the kinds of things he missed while growing up… the kind of things that Hugo is nothing but glad to show him.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Varian hears Hugo ask him. He nods, dumbstruck, but when he looks at his boyfriend- Hugo isn’t looking at the sky. He’s staring Varian dead in the eye. He feels his face grow hot- he must be a shocking colour of red by now- but Hugo doesn’t make mention of it. Instead he holds out an arm, an offering that Varian gladly takes. He worms his way into Hugo’s side, delighting as a strong arm wraps around his shoulders and pulls him close.

The old fairgrounds are the kind of quiet that sinks deep in your chest. Not that they’re silent- Varian can hear the chirping of crickets and the creaky whine of metal swings as they pass a swing ride- a large tower with a round disk at the top, nearly a hundred swings hanging from rusty chains. When the wind blows they swing along in soft, meandering arcs. Out here, nearly in the country, the quiet is something that seems sacred. The kind of silence reserved for graveyards and churches, shrines and memorials. It feels immoral to break it, so they don’t.

Hugo leads Varian up to a large roller coaster, the wooden frame still nearly perfect. Varian looks at it with apprehension, digging the heels of his hightops into the cracked concrete as Hugo begins to tug him forward.

“We’re not going up there.” Varian declares, “I don’t have a deathwish, and neither did you last time I checked.”

“Relax goggles.” Hugo grins, “I was up there earlier this afternoon, checked it myself. It’s sturdy. We gotta hurry though, or we’re going to miss it!”

Hugo spins on his heel and hops the metal turnstile, not looking back. Varian scowls, following despite himself. Hugo knows him too well- knows that Varian would follow him to the ends of the earth if Hugo asked it of him. They draw close to the base of the coaster, shuffling up on top of a series of boxes left behind by previous explorers- or maybe Hugo himself that afternoon, apparently. Varian can’t help but scowl… what did his boyfriend even get up to while Varian wasn’t keeping track of him? Risking life and limb to climb unstable ruins, apparently.

Hugo begins to scale the main hill of the coaster, the path easy as on the left side is a set of metal stairs for maintenance. Varian follows, his hand firmly planted on the railing as they climb higher.

“Are you just leading me up there to murder me?” Varian calls, shuddering as the wind picks up a little as they reach about halfway up. The hill’s nearly five stories high, easily the tallest attraction in the abandoned park. Varian can almost see the tops of the trees from here.

“Why would I take you all the way up here?” Hugo asks, turning around and smirking at him. “If I wanted you dead I would have killed you on ground level.”

“I… that’s not assuring!” Varian gripes, “If anything that makes this worse!”

Hugo, the bastard, laughs.

“You don’t like bullshit.” Hugo says, and Varian can’t help but melt. Hugo turns around and keeps climbing, his boots making little thunk-thunks on the aging metal. Varian scrambles up after him, breathing in the wind as they finally reach the top. Hugo had been telling the truth, it seems, as there’s already a small setup at the very peak of the arch.

Two small camp chairs, a blue cooler in between, all precariously balanced on a small flat space at the very top. Varian assumes it was once for maintenance, like the stairs; a cluster of blankets hanging from two long flagpoles attached to the safety rails make a little roof, and when Hugo hits a little battery back a series of string lights flick on in a rainbow glow. Hugo crawls down into the little fort, looking back and smiling. Not his usual smirk, but an honest-to-god smile.

Varian can’t help but fall a little more in love.

He crawls in after Hugo, laughing as they get tangled up for a second. For a second they become a flailing cluster of arms and legs, giggling like children as they trip over each other. Varian gets an elbow to the gut and grunts- Hugo’s arms are suddenly wrapping around his waist.

“Sorry, sorry,” The blond snickers, “Didn’t account for your stupid legs-”

“What, you just want me to leave them behind next time?” Varian groans, resting up against Hugo’s side with a sigh. Hugo’s warm and solid as Varian leans into him- settles under Hugo’s arm like he belongs there, sinks into the heat of the other’s body, curls into the embrace like he was made for it.

Hugo’s chin settles on his head, and Varian smiles softly to himself.

With Hugo’s back propped up against the pole, they both face out over the forest. In the distance, Old Corona glows with street lamps and houses and cars. Above them, the stars shine just as brightly, if not moreso. Varian smells pine and something distinctly Hugo- breathes it in and lets it settle deep in his chest like a balm.

Hugo’s arms tighten around his waist, the two of them looking out towards the distant light of home. Varian feels at peace, the gentle waves of tranquil silence and soft lights from their little makeshift tent soothing the ails of day.

And then, just as Varian’s getting used to the relaxation-

Pop-pop, pop pop pop-pop-pop-

Fireworks scatter across the sky in a rainbow of light and colour, vivid oranges and blues and purples glowing across the inky sky like a scattering of magic. Varian’s eyes go wide, watching with a childlike glee as they fizzle and spark. Hugo’s hold on him gets a little closer as Varian shifts, as if the blond’s scared he’s going to pull away-

“Did you know about this?” Varian asks him, turning in his arms. He can see the reflection of colour in the lenses of Hugo’s glasses- and in the warm look in those green eyes.

“Sure I did.” Hugo says, “I know a guy who knew a guy.”

Varian snorts, refusing to look away. Hugo’s trying to play this off- of course he is- but Varian knows that he’d probably been planning this for a while. He feels his heart start to thump at the thought, that Hugo had set all this up, had thought of doing all of this for Varian-

He grabs Hugo by the strings of his hoodie and pulls him into a kiss. Hugo smiles into it, leaning into it and pulling Varian close. They kiss for what feels like hours and seconds, Varian can’t tell, before they break. They both breathe a little heavily, gasping for air a mere few inches from another kiss.

“I love you, goggles.” Hugo whispers, like a prayer.

“I love you too,” Varian murmurs, lost to the moment.

When they meet again, Varian can’t help but smile.

#varigo #varian #tts #asks #fic #these are fun!!!#sorry it took a bit anon #love you!! hope you see this!!

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softlyjiminie · 4 years

Text

last christmas | p.j.m

⇢ paring(s): park jimin x reader, brother!kim taehyung.

⇢ word count: 10.1K ( rip mobile users. )

⇢ genre: angst, fluff, slow-burn romance, imaginary friend!au, idol!au.

⇢ summary: you couldn't remember the last time you’d smiled, especially at christmas. a time for cheer and joyfulness, but for you a reminder of what was lost. you couldn't remember the last time you smiled, that is until, park jimin came along.

⇢ warning(s): please read! mentions of death, mentions of car accidents, mentions of surgeries and blood (transfusions), swearing, heavy angst (promise there’s a happy ending on this).

⇢ author’s note(s): merry christmas everyone! I finally present myself as ginger and here is my secret santa gift for @fantasybangtan as part of the @btswriterscollective secret santa project! i hope you enjoy it! this fic is loosely based of off the christmas movie ‘last christmas’, but you don't need to have seen it to understand <3

“hello? hellooo? hello!”

you snap back to your unfortunately reality, the sound of the customer’s voice piercing right through your day dream. she gives you a menacing stare as if she’s taunting you with a fight. you take a step back, keeping your head down as you address her, “hi how can i help you?” you ask, doing your best to seem enthusiastic, after all, you are working a late shift during the holidays. you know that the owner needs it to bring in extra cash, it ensures the cafe will survive the winter.

“god, what does it take to get some service around here?”

unimpressed, the customer rolls her eyes and places an order. she watches you with disgust as you walk away, her eyes are burning holes into the back of your neck. you have half a mind to spit into the froth of her latte, but you can’t risk losing another job so close to christmas. fixing the lid on the latte, you almost jump in shock as your phone vibrates in your pocket. the scalding brown liquid jolts out of the cup, burning your fingers and causing you whimper in pain. you place the cup down on the counter and suck the coffee off of your fingers.

“hello?” you chirp into the phone, keeping your voice low in order not to make a scene. the customer is jeering behind you, becoming irate but you ignore her in favour for the searing burns forming on your fingers.

the call rustles slightly before connecting fully, allowing you time to throw a look over your shoulder at your colleague who’s trying to calm customers down. “YN...? oh my- hey! you picked up!”

“what is it taehyung?” you can’t help but growl at your younger brother, the tone in your voice coming off as a sneer. you know that if you were back home, the boy’s boxy grin would have faltered. you flinch with guilt, knowing he only means well. he misses you. “i mean...how can i help you tae tae?”

your voice softens as does your face when you press the phone closer to your ear, you can sense his hesitance you speak. taehyung doesn’t want to mess up and not hear from you again. you’d only hopped since moving out of town that you would become less of a burden to your family, distancing yourself for a reason.

“mum wants to know when you’re home for christmas...” the younger boy whispers sadly into the phone, causes making you grip the device tightly and hold it away from your ear. you take a deep breath and hope it can’t be heard down the line.

“i’m really sorry pal,” you start, half apologetically. you let a lie twist in your mind to excuse yourself from the phone and get back to your work, you don’t want to deal with your helicopter parent of a mother and worrying brother. “i gotta get back to work, i’ll text you later.”

it was a simple white lie. “ah...okay... i love you.”

“love you too tae.”

you hang up the phone as quickly as possible, shoving the sleek device back into your apron pocket. taking the semi cold latte, you hand it over the customer hurriedly and take down the price for having her wait so long. she pays by card, glaring at you before turning to her friends. “you’d think the workers here would be more competent.”

you’re tired, you’ve been on your feet all day and now guilt crawls your mind and feasts on it due to the treatment of your brother. this customer is getting on your last nerves, you can’t help it when you curse at her from under your breath. by some cruel twist of fate the lady with the over the top and probably fake fur coat marches her way back over to you. her eyes speak a million venomous words and you barely have any time to react before she’s dumping her latte all over you.

you barely have time to react, wiping your eyes of the creamy liquid. god you hated this time of year.

after cleaning up and changing into a spare pair of clothes from the employee backroom, you’re sent home for the rest of the week. your boss apologises profusely for the fussy customer and helps bandage up the burns from earlier. working is impossible with injured hands, you’ll be back when you’re better. but for now, a dark grey cloud of demotivation hangs above your head like an ornament on a Christmas tree, without work you have nothing to do. out of a job for three days and no paid leave. it couldn’t be a worse time, with you needing to send gifts and pay bills over the christmas period.

life really had it out for you.

sighing, you continue your trek into the cold and burry your cheeks into the safety of your winter jacket. you hate the cold with a burning passion (how ironic) and you know your mother would disapprove of the thin uniform and worn down jacket you wear to work. it does nothing to protect you from the frost that nips at your nose.

the floor is icy, soaking though your beat down shoes and into your socks, nonetheless you pay no mind as you trudge home, passing the winter market. your heart is set on drowning in blankets and watching old movies with yourself, so focused on a night in that you don’t realise the stranger heading right for you.

“hey! watch out!” you squeal but you’ve already collided with the man, who’s spiralling to the floor and slipping on the icy sidewalk. with his flailing hand locked in your grip you manage to stop the stranger from hitting the floor, but somehow he’s knocked his head on the way down. “oh my god...are you... are you okay?”

hot breath forms cloudy puffs in the night air while the man tames his breathing. normally, you would have given the culprit a death glare and kept it moving but something within you is telling you to stay. crouching on your knees, you hope to the heavens that you haven’t killed the guy and wave a hand in front of his face. “fine, fine...just please stop touching me, you might make it worse.” he mumbles softly, pulling back from you as if your clumsiness will cause him more pain than wanted.

you frown and back away a little bit, weary of causing anymore damage. “right, sorry uh-...” you trail off in search of his name, in which he replies with a short ‘jimin’. “jimin! yes! i’m really sorry, we should probably get your head checked out but the A&E can get really busy around this time...”

without much thought, you offer jimin your hand to pull him to stand, the grin that’s paired with it is sheepish. “that’s okay,” jimin hums and pulls off his seemingly expensive looking fur hat. he dabs his fingers under the fringe of his cotton candy tinted hair and gasps at the small spots of blood that stain his fingertips. your eyes drift down to the cursed crimson marks on his hand, making you gasp as you slap a hand over your mouth. “i can probably get this patched up somewhere else.”

this is it, this is your opportunity to make it up to this...rather handsome looking man. now that you’re staring (you should probably stop before it gets weird), you notice how pretty the stranger-jimin- actually is. his features are sloping and dainty under the yellow hum of the street lamps, his droopy eyes seem warm and inviting and the curve of his lips make you want to- “i could! i could...patch you up” you catch yourself before you start to drool, sending your gaze elsewhere. “i live not too far from here, and it beats waiting in a hospital all night?”

jimin smiles brightly at your suggestion, moon crescent eyes crinkling at the corner and you swear your heart beats a little faster. maybe life, was, on your side. “that’s awfully kind of you, thank you miss-?”

“YN,” you smile and start to lead him towards your home. “YN is fine.”

“thank you, YN.” jimin replies sweetly, following you.

you almost forget your fingers are still intertwined.

now that you think about it, inviting a complete stranger into your tiny apartment probably wasn’t the best idea. after all, all you had to go by was a pretty name and a ridiculously handsome face.

you live alone and have never even met your neighbours, so if he did happen to be some kind of psycho, no one would ever find you.

great.

standing in the kitchen, you can’t help but stare at jimin and observe the way he takes in his surroundings. he’s almost jovial, like a child, but in a cute sort of way. you were supposed to be making hot chocolate, at least that’s what jimin thought when he turned his head and caught your gaze from the living room. the pink haired male giggles quietly as you blush, having been caught gawking, and duck your head to avoid his honey eyes.

“thank you,” jimin mumbles as he sips on the festive drink once it’s made, the heated liquid warms him from the inside out and he hums in content when the sweet chocolate hits his tongue. “ykno, for bandaging me up and letting me sit down for a bit.”

you blow lightly on your own not chocolate, shaking your head. “not at all, it’s the least i could do for almost knocking you out.” you tilt your head up at the patch on his forehead, the cut hadn’t been too deep and you were able to clean it out with some disinfectant.

the chuckle that flows from jimin’s lips is like a lullaby in itself, making you sighs dreamily. “maybe it would have knocked some sense into me...i don’t even remember how i got to the market and i feel like i’m a bit far from home.” jimin ponders out loud, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as you tuck your knees into your chest to sit more comfortably. it wouldn’t be very smart of you, but if jimin was lost and needed a place to stay, then who were you to send him back onto the streets? he didn’t seem like a mass murderer, he’s cute and after all you could use the company.

seems like a perfect idea!

“hey jimin... why don’t you stay with me for a while?” you suggest quietly, grasping his attention as he looks at you with raised brows. “i mean just until you figure out where you’re going next, after all i did give you a pretty nasty scar and hotels around here can be expensive around this time of year...”

you start to babble, scared by his shocked reaction. you’re so far gone into your rambling that you don’t realise how jimin has jumped up and is now holding your hands in his. “that’s so kind of you YN, i’d love to take you up on that offer, as long as i’m not imposing.” he whispers appreciatively, stars glistening in his coffee-black eyes.

you shake your head slowly, captivated by the way he’s looking at you.

“not at all jimin, don’t worry, you wouldn’t be.”

the male with the dusky skies weaved into his shining locks only smiles again, enveloping you in a grateful hug as he whispers a small ‘thank you’. you gently lay his back, feeling a sense of familiarity and warmth settle in your chest.

you embrace the hug and dismiss the feeling, making a mental note to get more blankets for jimin. he’s freezing.

you room seems suspiciously cold when you rouse from the pits of sleep the following morning. faint memories from the night before fill your head while you rub the sleep from your eyes. you remember burning your fingers, bumping into a stranger and inviting jimin into your home.

jimin!

scrambling up, you wrap the blankets around yourself while the fabric bunch at your ankles. you trudge down the hall way, and at a stop where your kitchen is, frowning at the wide-open back door. the outside is coated in a thick blanket of heavy snow, and you realise why it was so cold. “jimin, hello? anyone there?” you call and receive no response. panics shoots down your spine, what if jimin had been a crazy psychopath? what if he’d stolen some of your belongings and was pawning it off right now? you gasp in terror and rush forward to lock the door.

foot steps from afar cause you to jump and you grab the nearest thing to you (an empty mug), preparing to defend yourself against the potential serial killer in your house.

the kitchen door opens and you whack the intruder in the stomach with the mug, dropping it when you spot tufts of soft rose hair from underneath the beanie. “oh my god jimin! i thought you were an intruder!”

he doubles over in pain and you catch him just before he falls to the ground, the second time in 24-hours that you’d injured the poor guy. the pink haired man gives you a thumbs up, wavering away your apologies and ‘how can i make it up to you’s “it’s fine...i should have told you that i popped outside for a bit,” jimin explains and sits down to rub at his tummy with an endearing pout “and don’t worry, i’m pretty sure i’m not a serial killer.”

his light laughter and the warm feeling in your chest put your mind at ease. “that’s exactly what a serial killer would say,” you taunt back and lean over to fix jimin’s hat over his hair, noting the pink rosey tint to his cheeks and nose from where he’d been out in the snow. “why were you out there anyways?”

“i wanted to see the snow, we don’t have much where i’m from.” he says, an icy chill spreading from where you touched him to down your spine. you pull back and lock down at your hands, rubbing them together. why was he so cold?

you furrow your eye brows at his distant look. “where are you from jimin?”

“somewhere in seoul, i travel a lot.” jimin turns to look at you, frowning as if he’s not quite sure if his own answer. you choose not to pry, instead moving onto asking him more generic questions, just to get to know him a little bit.

“you’re so weird.” you say after an hour of sitting on the floor with him, talking about everything and anything.

jimin smiles, crescent moon eyes reminding you of clear starry nights and shooting stars as the snow builds up outside. “aren’t the weirdest people, the best kind of people?”

you hum for a moment, pondering silently. “i guess why are.”

that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

as it turns out, jimin was stranded in your home for a few more weeks, possibly until christmas. the news reported heavy snowfall and freezing temperatures for the coming weeks, leading to most couples being wrapped up warm with cosy nights in.

you however, were stuck working more late nights and long hour shifts, missing out on all the the holiday romance. not that you cared for it. in the meantime, having jimin’s company when you came home from long shifts was always a treat, he would sing you sweet songs as he helped you cook or ran you hot baths to relax tense muscles, listening as you ranted about bitchy customers. jimin was tender with you, so very understanding and caring with you when you were down but willing to go on late night adventures into the freezing unknown when you were full of energy.

some nights, he would disappear, leaving you alone in your dark apartment with the chill of loneliness knocking at your window. being alone was normal for you, even at times like christmas where others would bask in the bright light of their families and friends. you didn’t have that, you made sure of it. other times jimin would come to your home practically frozen from head to toe, he never mentioned where he went or why he was so cold but you cherished every moment of his return when it came by. he was the only one who made it seem like your company was worthwhile.

“boo!”

you squeal and jump away from the oncoming voice, barely catching yourself as your footing fails beneath you. a pair of strong, toned arms wrap around your waist and hold you up, twirling you around and causing you so squeal even louder. hands grip at jimin’s strong shoulders as your laughter bubbles through the winter air. the man himself offers you a bright smile, the rose that inks his cheeks prettily matching the pink of his hair. “put me down you, you pink lump!” You manage between giggles, clinging onto jimin tightly as he sets you onto steady ground. the world comes to a standstill, the spinning making your head feel light but you smile brightly nonetheless. “where have you been? i missed you! are you okay? how did you get here?”

jimin throws his head back in back in laughter at your flurry of questions, running a hand through his wind swept locks. “YN, YN, one question at a time, darling.”

“darling? and did you get a hair cut?” you don’t mean to pry, but after a gruelling day, jimin’s smile is all you need to have your heart warmed and spirits lifted.

“YN!”

“sorry, sorry i just missed you is all,” you shrug and allow jimin to pull you into his chest as you waddle down the streets, path illuminated by the endless santa clauses’ that light up shop windows along with their reindeer counterparts. christmas lights woven into trees, create a warm glow around jimin’s rounded face and for the first time, you see him differently.

jimin squeezes you once, looking down at you. “yes i cut my hair and i had to take care to take care of some business.”

he doesn’t go into anymore detail, he never does. you almost never find out where he’s been or what he’s doing, part of you doesn’t want to know. maybe he’s here for someone else and is just trying to spare your feelings. wait. feelings? you hoped that you hadn’t started falling for jimin, you couldn’t be. it had only been a few weeks but you felt like you had known him but you felt like you knew everything there was to know about him. jimin notices you staring off into the distance, admiring the lights so it seems and frowns to himself.

“hey...YN, why don’t you have any lights?”

“hm?” you mumble, absentmindedly, as his soft spoken voice pulls you from your thoughts.

“christmas lights…you don’t have any!” jimin pouts with puppy eyes, letting go of you in favour for grabbing your smaller hand in his, whilst his fingertips scream cold, your heart screams louder at the simple touch. With a bounce in his step, the pink haired boy leads you over to one of the stalls in the chirstmas market, searching earnestly for a small box of lights.

you falter, biting your lip. “i’ve never been one for christmas…” you say quietly, but jimin is having none of it.

“maybe thats because you don’t immerse yourself in it.”

you watch him ponder and giggle at all the choices, and soon his arms are full of multicoloured lights of all shapes and sizes, along with a few ornamnets and a miniature potted christmas tree for you to decorate together. “jiminie...wh-what are we doing?” you ask, as pay for the lights, unable to say no to his sweet smile. you’ll check your dying bank balance later, praying that it’s not in the minuses.

“decorating, silly!” he squeals giddily, grabbing your hand again and tugging you home at a much faster pace than before. as soon as you step through the doors, jimin is kicking off his shoes and throwing his jacket on the hooks, barely giving you enough time as he pesters you to hurry up. with both hands in his, jimin leads you into the living room and twirls you around.

he let’s go of you to set some quiet music up on the speaker, dumping all of the decorations out onto the floor. jimin makes quick work of untangling the rainbow lights, stringing them above your tv as he whines for you to hang some of the ornaments and stockings up. “we’re going to turn this boring old apartment, into something christmasy.”

“this place is already magical!” you protest with a light huff, shoving his shoulder before kneeling down to unbox the tiny tree. “i can’t believe i let you coerce me into buying this…” you mumble and earn yourself a nudge to the shoulder by jimin’s foot.

he slides to his knees to help you fix it’s branches once he’s done with his decorating, tilting his head to look at you discretely. your cheeks hot at his closeness and you do your best to hide it from him. “It’s only magical because i’m here.” you can’t help but smile fondly as jimin takes your hand in his, squeezing it slightly and bringing your linked hands up to his lips to kiss. your heart races rapidly but the moment is cut short by the ringing of your phone over the speaker. you quickly grab your phone, ignoring the contact name ‘taetae’ that flashes on the screen. the music resumes and you sit on the floor, feeling panicked. “who was it?”

“no one.”

“no one, like your brother?” jimin asks, changing the song to a softer one, looking directly at you. you wrap your arms around yourself and shrug, you’d told jimin stories of your family, not many but enough for him to know their names and faces. he shuffles over to you, taking you into his arms as you ignore the tears threatening to spill. “you should call him.”

“I can’t.”

“you only say you can’t, because you’re afraid to…but really, you know that you need him just as much as he needs you.”

jimin doesn’t touch more on the subject after that, instead, he stands and holds a hand out for you. you take it, watching him with wide eyes as he switches on the lights, allowing them to glitter around you and illuminate the room. jimin gently tugs you into his chest after turning up the music, kissing your forehead and snaking arms around your waist. you allow yourself to sway with him as he embraces your vulnerability.

and it is with a waking start, that you realise you’re completely in love with jimin.

jimin leaves again just days after, leaving an empty hole in your heart. you hate that he leaves without a trace, you almost hate how quickly you’ve fallen for him but every part of your ind, body and soul is telling you that is is okay. in meantime, you decide that with your new found free time, that you will fill the space with good deeds.

you want to be kinder, be better and being with jimin has made you realise your potential to be kinder.

at work, you arrive early and cover your new temporary colleague who’s struggling to keep up with the machines and work loads, you even find time to bring in a batch of christmas cookies for everyone to share, as a thanks for supporting you and being your family away from family. you finally get around to meeting those neighbours, finding out that they have the cutest puppy in the entire world, named bruno, who reminds you very much of your little brother’s dog back home.

lastly, you get round to calling taehyung. the ringer brings up a bubble of anxiety in your chest, it’s daunting, thinking about talking to him again. He’s your brother, you remind yourself as you wait for him to pick up, he loves you. you convince yourself that any hostility you receive is well deserved, and hold your breath waiting for an answer. “he-hello?” your brother’s deep voice hesitates, and you sigh gently Into the phone.

“hi baby brother…” you breathe, hearing his own breath hitch over the phone as you clutch the device. “i miss you so much and i’m so sorry.”

a door closes on the end of the line, you assume that taehyung is moving rooms for you to get some quiet, most likely away from your nosey mother or other intruding ears. “YN… i miss you too, why are you sorry?” His voice sounds so confused and genuine, guilt consumes you for abandoning your brother when he needed you most but now you’ve been shown that you have a chance to fix things.

you take a deep breath once more, holding back tears. “i’ve been a bad big sister…”

“YN-ah no, no…” taehyung starts. it doesn’t take long before the dam breaks, and everything spills out. everything that held you back from your family is laid out on the line for your younger sibling and he understands. you spend the next few hours catching up, learning how much your dog has grown and the new music taehyung is listening to, he talks to you about his favourite music groups and you feel like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders.

you barely notice when the door opens, jimin stepping through. he sees you laugh and sees you smile, grinning to himself at seeing you so animated. When the call with your brother finally ends, jimin wraps his arms around you and coos to you as you jump. the way you look at him like he’s your entire world makes his heart rumble with warmth, giving heat to the chill in his body. “i missed you so much, i love you so much.”he hears you whimper into his chest after you embrace him, he’s been gone for far too long, he knows that.

so it doesn’t surprise him, when his own lips form the words. “i love you too.”

“let’s go on a date,” jimin suggests, leaning an elbow on the counter at the cafe you work at. you jump when you spot him, almost dropping the mug you were drying out which causes your coworker to giggle. she and yourself had gotten a lot closer since jimin rolled around, she even noticed that you were much happier. you admit, jimin made you very very happy.

you turn to him with a knowing look, raising an eyebrow. “a date where?” you question him lightly, watching as his dark, whiskey eyes light up when your coworker presents him with a warm hot chocolate. jimin grins at her gratefully and you shake your head, kissing his nose fondly.

since confessing to one another, you felt yourself opening up to people more. jimin helped you escape from your shell of a person, becoming a much better one at that. the man himself was more than you could ever ask for, he was kind and affectionate and you would even go as far to say you were in love with him. “i was on a walk the other night and i found this cute frozen lake nearby to your apartment complex,” jimin explains to you with a sweet tilt of his head and you can’t help it when you lean over to wipe the chocolate moustache from his top lip. “the ice is pretty sturdy, and if i got us some skates we could play around on it for a bit.”

“that sounds like a lot of fun, why don’t we go when i’m done with this shift?” you say and lean into press a kiss to jimin’s pouty lips. he nods happily at the offer and gives you one last peck on the forehead before telling you that he will meet you back at the apartment. you arrive home from work to jimin who’s dressed in a large sweater and tight black jeans, which hug his thighs perfectly. he hands over a warm sweater of his and lets you change before leading you to the lake. your hands are intertwined, jimin’s thumb brushes over your knuckles as you walk through the cold.

the lake is beautiful, trees surrounding it are dressed in bright lights by your lover’s doing. snow decorates the bank, creating a white blanket that crushes beneath your boots. jimin sets you down on a log and eases off your boots, he remains gentle with you while lacing up your skates, kissing your hand under the light’s once he’s done. after putting on his own skates, the man with the pink tinted hair and cheeks, guides you onto the ice and holds you close.

you gasp softly, stuttering with your steps as you glide onto the ice with jimin’s support. “that’s it, there you go, you’re skating darling!”

smiling gently, you let the boy guide you on the ice as he skates backwards, you mave effortlessly across the crystallised surface with each other in arm. jimin twirls you gently, pulling you into his arms as you pick up momentum. you look up at jimin softly, the lights illuminating his face like the very night you met him. “what?” he asks and giggles, the wind running wildly through his pink hair.

“nothing, tonight is just beautiful and i love you.”

“i love you back.” jimiin grins and pulls you into him as you come to a standstill in the middle of the lake, he leans down and captures you’re lips with his own. they’re cushion-like and soft, and you let your arms snake around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his soft hair. you mould together perfectly, like a key in a lock as if you were made for each other. the kiss speaks a million and one emotions, leaving you panting hot breath into the late night air.

the pair of you skate for a while longer before deciding to head home for some cuddles, you make a move to step off of the ice but jimin stops you.

“don’t move...” he mumbles lowly, avoiding your gaze in favour for staring at the ice below. jimin’s hand it held out to stop you, “keep your eyes on me, YN, im coming to get you.” jimin adds, sternly but you can’t help but cast a look down.

you gasp, watching as a particularly large crack develops in the ice, itching to break through. you have no idea how deep the water goes, you can swim but it’s bean years. a million and one panicked thoughts bristle through your mind as jimin calls to you again.

“eyes up darling, i’ve got you.” he says, making you nod your head and lift your stare to catch his warm, safe chocolate hues. jimin crouches down, wriggling on the ice with his stomach flat against it like a snake and makes his way towards you.

fear spikes up your spine as the ground below you creeks, looking as if it’s going to break through. “minnie...i’m scared” you tremble, as the man himself tries to shuffle faster.

just before he reaches you, the ice beneath your feet gives out and you slip through into the dark depths below. you manage a scream before submerging into the water, thrashing about as your limbs start to feel heavy and cold. jimin calla you from above, screaming your name desperately.

“jimin...” you think to yourself, the world falling black.

everything is dark, every breath you once had sucked away as you stay trapped in your mind. you hate this place, the space in your consciousness where you’re haunted by everlasting darkness. you hate it.

but soon enough the air returns to your lungs, letting you breathe again. you choke out, desperate for the oxygen to rouse you as jimin places a warm hand on your back and lifts you into his arms.

“i’ve got you darling, you’re okay, you’re safe,” he whispers and rocks you back and forth, pressing his lips into your hair line to desperately calm you. laboured breathing turns to hiccups and sobs as you come to, digging your fingers into his cable knit sweater whilst you process your surroundings. jimin has somehow managed to get you home, the scent of your blankets making you cry harder into his chest. “YN, sweetheart...”

“i almost died...” you heave, remembering how you swore to yourself to never return to that place. the darkness. jimin frowns, squeezing you together as if he’s trying to pull all of your pain away. “promised it’d never happen again...”

“what did you promise, love?”

you know jimin means well, he doesn’t know what you’ve been through or what your life had been before him. curling up in his arms, you let salty tears streak down the apples of your cheeks, flashes of cold icy water resonating in your mind. you shove your face further into his sweater, finding him slightly cold, remembering the ice. you let out a watery sigh, and twirl your fingers in a loose loop of jimin’s clothes. “I've... come close before...” you start slowly, screwing your eyes shut as the memories come into play. “around christmas time last year...”

jimins sits up with you in his arms, running a hand through your hair. “take your time, baby..”

“i was in a...bad accident and i lost a lot of blood, i’d never seen my mum so scared and my brother..” you pause to calm your breathing, jimin pressing just cheek into your hair as he listens quietly. “they had to do an emergency transfusion...and i promised myself i’d never do that to my parents again,”

“i don’t want them to worry, i don’t want to be a burden, that’s why i’m out here a lone and i almost lost myself again and now im a burden to you too...” your rambling picks up, the words becoming muddled as you try to explain. jimin doesn’t complain or make you feel patronised.

instead he rolls under the blankets with you, brushing the hair from your eyes and rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks. “you could never be a burden to your family nor myself, they love you and whilst what happened to you is frightening, you fought and now you’re here with them. you are not weak or delicate, you’re strong and a survivor,” jimin whispers sweetly against your skin, letting you cling tightly to him. his words soothe over your worries heart and you hear the words that you’ve needed all a long. you needed him. “you’re so brave, and i love you so much.”

“i love you too.”

jimin squeezes you close once more under the sheets, having a protective hold on you that no one can break. “you’re safe now.”

and you believe that you truly are.

“i think you should meet my parents,” you sigh into jimin’s chest. he’s somehow managed to pull his oversized jumper over the both of you, the warmth of his body clinging to you and creating a tingly feeling in your veins. he feels colder than usual, but you put it down to the light snowfall outside. “christmas eve would be nice, they’d love to meet the one who’s making their girl happy.”

you add with a tilt of your head, looking up at the man with the impressively pink hair. his skin has paled, probably due to the cold weather as well, the sudden shift of his gaze to look at you doesn’t fail to make your heart skip a beat. “what do you think?”

jimin hums, shifting to wrap his arms around you and closes his eyes. “i don’t think that’s a good idea.” he voices, barely above a whisper. he’s so quiet that his voice falls into tune with the Christmas music playing in the background, so quiet that his soft voice blends with the harsh crackling fire.

“what? why not? they would love you!” you say and hide the hurt in your voice, your gaze is cast aside to the badly wrapped presents you’ve made for your family. the paper is torn in places, with pieces tapped over it to over the holes. it’s crinkled instead of smooth like the ones jimin finished for you.

“its not the right time.” he mumbles simply and you can feel him withdrawing from you. the warmth that jimin had is now a prickling ice that makes you tear away from him. his honey brown eyes open, and blink a few times as he watches you shuffle out from the sweater. your hands are cold and burn like frostbite, jimin flinches.

you couldn’t help but feel the anger bubble, boil and blister inside of you. you’d spent weeks together, built a home together and it felt like everything was going right. so why now? why not? “now’s not the right time? you don’t think after spending almost a month together that maybe it’d be appropriate for you to meet my family?”

“things are a bit complicated for me right now.”

“complicated? jimin what’s going with you? you’re so distant from me lately...so much-“ you start to yell, standing up now. jimin’s face remains plain, unnerved as the christmas lights flash shades of cherry red and pine green against his creamy skin.

“colder?” he finishes, raising his voice at you, you step back and frown. jimin sits up, pushing a hand through his pink fluffed hair and glowers. “in case you hadn’t noticed YN, i have other things on my mind aside fixing the dysfunctional world of you! you shouldn’t be so dependent on me to fix all your problems.” he spits, and the cold hard truth burns icily at your skin. eyes water as jimin stands, moving to shrug on his coat and boots.

he was angry and you were selfish. you hadn’t learned it seemed. you want to let him go without any last spurts of anger, but you can’t help it. something inside you needs to have the last word. “you know what jimin? fine, leave! i don’t need someone who won’t commit anyway!” you scream, but the door has already slammed and you’d already fallen to your knees, holding in your sobs.

you wake up the next morning with a crust in your eyes and the scent of pancakes filling the air. you’re in the same spot that you were last night, the blankets still wrapped around you and keeping you snug. rubbing your eyes, you sit up and shiver. the room aches with coldness and you miss the warmth that yourself and jimin shared last night. “jimin...” you whisper absentmindedly, the gravel in your voice making you sound tired.

“here, did you sleep well?”

he’d whispered it quietly, but he was back nonetheless and you felt your bottom lip wobble as you noticed him. jimin hands you a plate of pancakes, allowing you to eat them silently.

“well enough,” you say, a mouthful of food tucked into your cheek. the memories of last night cause a pain in your head, but you manage well enough to prevent the conversation from dying. “what about you?”

jimin smiles at you, seemingly different from last night, leaning forward to push a strand of your hair out of your face. “it was fine, i stayed up late to get you something.” he sighs and hands you an envelope. you frown, setting your knife and fork down to open the envelope, revealing two tickets home for that evening. jimin grins as your face lights up, thumbing the envelope gratefully.

“minnie...you shouldn’t have...” you gasp dreamily and lean over to hug him. he says nothing, but instead accepts your affection, cuddling into you.

you find yourself nearly toppling off the couch but jimin steadies you, rubbing your back. “i should have, this is the right move for us. for you.” jimin says, and you find his words somewhat cryptic, ignoring them for the smile he offers you.

the train ride is longer than you expect or rather, remember. it had been a long time since you’d visited your family or even left seoul, but the excitement of having jimin meet them overruled any feelings of boredom.

you wonder if they’ll like him, if they’ll see how deeply you’re in love with him. you know for a fact that tae will, he’d always been good at reading you.

snow falls lightly outside, not enough to delay your journey, but enough for it to settle and form a crisp white blanket for the outside world. you know with winter comes cold and sleeping animals, sleeping plants and sleeping jimin. he looks so peaceful in the light of the snow, it’s pale colour highlighting the soft accents of his features, the slope of his nose and curve of his lips. not forgetting, the sharp of his jaw. you kiss him softly in the junction between his jaw and his neck, covering your lips at the chilly feeling of his skin.

a while later, the train pulls into your station and you make sure to be careful with rousing jimin. the air outside is even colder than his hand in yours, but you pay it no mind as you start to lead him off of the platform.

jimin doesn’t budge.

“jimin, lets go, we need to catch our taxi remember?” you say with a puff of warm breath into the cold. jimin stands still with his hair as rosy as his cheeks, his nose pink against the snow as he pulls up his scarf.

“i can’t.”

you furrow your brows and begin to approach him, grabbing onto his arm as you look up at the man pleadingly. he promised he would make it up to you, he promised he would come home with you. “what? what are you talking about?”

“this is as far as i go, YN,” jimin starts, looking down at you with sympathetic eyes. he knows that you’re frustrated, he can see the tears starting to form in your eyes like icicles in the winter but he stands his ground and resists your pleading. “beyond that point, i don’t exist anymore.”

you blink, ignoring the stares of strangers passing by. “you’re kidding, jimin don’t be so stupid-“

“i’m imaginary, YN, i’m not real,” jimin starts to say slowly, and you stop struggling in his arms to look up at his face for any signs of a lie. “my name is park jimin, and i am a figment of your imagination.”

you open your mouth to argue, question him on why he decided to pull such antics before meeting your family when it clicks. the name park jimin was one you had heard and seen before. plastered across billboards and magazines. written on lyric sheets that your brother taehyung had printed years ago. park jimin was an idol, a member of BTS, one of the biggest groups in the world. when your eyes flutter back up to meet jimin’s, his own are soft and his face shows heartache. you want to pull away from him, to scream at whatever he is, but you don’t want to believe it’s real.

you don’t want to believe that you were lonely enough at christmas to make up a friend.

“you’re lying, how could i imagine doing all those things with someone i’ve never met?” you ask yourself more so than him, stepping back from jimin with watery eyes.

he is silent for a moment, before he takes your hands and sits on the suitcase you had packed. his clothes are in there, clothes that don’t belong to a real man. jimin takes a lush pink lip between his teeth as he panders over how to phrase is words. seconds tick by and you realise he’s cold because he doesn’t have a real heart to keep him warm. “do you remember, your accident at christmas last year?” he asks as your hand curls into his fluffy pink hair for comfort. you nod. “you remember how you had a blood transfusion? to save your life?”

you nod again, hiccuping. “part of the real park jimin exists within you, he was the one who gave you the blood. jimin was there, the only one that night who had a matching blood type with yours,” the jimin before you explains, brushing a thumb over your knuckles as you exhale shakily. “he had only been there by chance, with namjoon hurting himself while they filmed for a show called bon voyage. he saved your life,” he adds. “the colder i get, is the more he fades within you. he may not know who you are but he is a part of you.”

“but why him?” you cry, bottom lip wobbling at the realisation that you were still alone and vulnerable in the world. that your jimin was leaving you behind. that your jimin, the one you were so in love with, wasn’t even real. “why did you come?”

“because jimin is a kind soul and you needed someone to guide you the right way.” he whispers and stands, his hands leaving yours to cup your cheeks. they’re freezing, barely there and you know that jimin is about to leave you forever. staring into his dark chocolate eyes once more, you find yourself lost in a haze of emotions and gaze over his peach face and soft tinted hair, blinking away the tears that threaten to fall. jimin kisses you, letting you clutch into him as his lips mould perfectly with yours.

your heart bursts into a thousand tiny pieces, from heartbreak or love you do not know. there is a fine line between them both. his forehead is pressed hotly against your own, as his lips find yours over and over again, claiming them while his tongue finds your mouth. the kiss is searingly passionate, and you clutch onto his pink hair just to make sure he’s real. you selfishly hope that he is. gripping him tightly, your hands roam every part of him that you can touch, trying to convince yourself that he is real and that he wouldn’t leave you alone in this shitty world.

the tears in your eyes burn hotter than anything you’ve ever felt before, the pain crawling through the ridges in your chest and suffocating you by the throat. you can’t lose him, you panic, you can’t be alone again. jimin was all you had, jimin was the only one who understood you. he knew you more than you knew yourself, and the idea of losing that comfort sends a fresh set of tears rolling down the apples of your cheeks.

the jimin you have now is the one that you’re in love with but your grip on him loosens as he starts to fade. the coldness to your lips replaced with air and not a physical presence.

soon enough, you are left standing on an empty platform, the ghost of christmas and love, written on your lips.

uupon arriving your at your parents’ , they immediately bombard you with questions regarding your festive lover, jimin. each word stabbed like knives at your heart, hurting more than last. the wounds that he had left were still wide ope, showing no signs of healing any time soon. your mother and father seemed relieved when they realised he hadn’t come, ignoring the hurt that spread through your body.

your father later told you that your mother feared she would lose you to jimin as well, making you tremble with guilt mixed with tears that night.

most of your days, nights and evenings are spent relaying memories, like the times where you’d stopped to kiss his cheek in public. you had imagined that. Or other times when he’d come up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. those were imagined to. so every time you played those little moments, the moments where you felt most happiness, you couldn’t help but well up with tears. taehyung doesn’t fail to notice the random changes in your mood, your younger brother is tender with you and lies with you on the days you refuse to leave bed on the lead up to christmas.

believing you was difficult for him, especially when you explained to him what’s on your mind, but he holds you while you sniffle and cry about what could have been.you’re so in love, that every scent and second reminds you of jimin, repeating the heartbreaking cycle. taehyung whispers sweetly “i’m sure the real jimin would had loved you just as much,” one night when you’re curled into his arms before christmas eve. your pup, yeontan curls up with you, licking at your cheeks as if he’s wiping your tears, causing yourself and taehyung to burst into fits of giggles.

a few days before the night of, your parents blind fold you after dinner and lead you into your father’s car. taehyung holds your hand tightly as you listen to the wind whip through the windows and your parents sing along to old christmas carols. the younger helps you out of the vehicle when it comes to a stop, wrapping his arms around you to protect you from the cold. dead leaves crunch beneath your feet as they guide you, the rush of cars to your left tells you that you’re close to the city centre. a few more minutes and you’re walking up the steps of a building, listening to the keys turn in the lock and the door open with a jingling bell over its head.

your blindfold slips off and the lights are switched on.

you stand with your family in a quaint café with teal blue walls and white tables that swirl and curl at their feet. the chairs have sprinkles of gold and silver tinsel, twirling through them and at the counter is decked with rows and rows of sweet treats and savoury pastries. custard tarts, buns and doughnuts. pizzas, rolls and pasties. you smile widely as you move behind the counter to run your finger tips over the freshly installed coffeemaker and gawk at all the teas stocked on the shelf.

“what...what is all of this?” you ask your mother, who smiles with happy eyes next to your father. she steps towards you and takes your hands before kissing over each knuckle.

“we were going to wait until christmas day, but taehyung noticed you needed a little bit of cheering up,” she nods her head over to your brother, who only waves shyly before continuing on. “do you remember your cousin seokjin?” you nod as your mother grins widely. “he recently opened up his third chain of cafes and he needed someone to manage the store located right here, in our hometown. taehyung suggested you, seeing how much you wanted to own your own bakery one day. seokjin has told me that you have full creative freedom, as long as you report back to him with any new tasty creations you have.”

the only word to describe how you feel, is gobsmacked, completely shocked as you stare at your little family with a warmed heart. “say something, YN.” you father mumbles worrisomely as he nears you and your concerned mother.

you remain silent for only a few more seconds before engulfing them in a large, endearing hug, pushing more than a thousand feelings into it. taehyung watches the exchange from afar, catching your eye. “i love you guys so much.” you say, looking directly at your younger brother with a soft, heart felt smile as he rushes over and nuzzles into your long-awaited embrace.

the launch of the cafe comes on christmas eve , with many calls between yourself and seokjin occurring between then. he, along with your family, are there when you cut the ribbon for the grand opening. cameras rolling as you announce the name of the cafe ‘rosey cheeks.’ after jimin. The silk ribbon at your feet is a silent reminder of him, tinted with a baby pink, like his hair. jimin, himself often crosses your mind, many times in fact. although you don’t know the real him, you miss the one that you shared your days with. you miss his smile, his laugh and the way his eyes creased at the corners when he did so.

taehyung helps you keep up with the real BTS, however, showing you clips of their comebacks and the concert date in your country. to say he’s ever so pleased with the album you gift him on christmas day would be an understatement. he beams brightly at you and plants soppy kisses on your cheeks as you walk with him to the cafe. as the joyful words of ‘boy with luv’ blast over the speakers and customers munch happily on treats you’d baked that morning, you can’t help but let your mind wonder to jimin. the real jimin. you can’t help but hope that he’s happy and healthy and part of you wishes he knew who you were, so selfishly. you’re in the back, whipping up some more gingerbread men for the excited children who just mind wonder in, whilst your little brother manages the till.

“come here often?” taehyung grins and wriggles his eyebrows at the girl his age, leaning over the counter with charming dark eyes and a look that would send anyone especially squealing. the girl shakes her head.

“didn’t you just open yesterday?”

she walks away, but not without leaving her number for the flabbergasted boy on the corner of a napkin. he giggles excitedly and swoons over her name and number written in cursive writing, so much so that he ignores the chime of the bell overhead and the slight coughing of a customer. “welcome to Rosey Cheeks, blah blah, how may i help-?” taehyung looks up and through the dark hair over his eyes, pausing when he noticed who it is that stands before him. “you-?”

“uh hi, name’s namjoon, i was wondering if you did orders to go?” the dimpled man beams and waves over the counter. four other heads and a set of cameras pop into taehyung’s field of view, and it’s with one glance that he recognised them as the members of BTS. kim namjoon, min yoongi, jung hoseok, park jimin and jungkook. “hello?”

taehyung nods, slightly awe struck but does his best to keep his cool as his cheeks burn bright red. after all, their album (the one you gifted him) is playing over the radio. “uh yeah, we...we do...what can i get you?”

jungkook and hoseok take a wonder around the cafe, giggling when they hear their own voices as yoongi helps namjoon to order, even signing some napkins for taehyung without the boy asking. jimin however, seems encapsulated. his chest radiates a warm energy that he believes he’s felt before, everything surrounding him seemingly familiar. that’s when he hears it, the soft humming from behind the counter. he feels attracted to it, it reminds him of home and suddenly the boy with the faded pink hair is running past taehyung and into the kitchen.

“jimin!”

his members call, but he ignores them in favour for the voice. jimin heard namjoon hurriedly apologise for his unusual behaviour before finding himself in the glittering kitchen. silverware, pots and pans are cast across the room but all jimin can focus on is you.

so much so, that he misses the pot on the floor, stepping in it and almost falling to his death.

that is until, you catch him.

his dark, homely eyes meet yours in a panicked state, fluttering across your face as you hold jimin up with two arms. a small gasp tears in the back of your throat whilst you realise who it is that you’re holding and this time, he’s not cold. “jimin!” you squeal, dropping the male with a sharp thud. panic is set free in your chest, your mind going into overdrive. the park jimin, the real jimin is in your kitchen. the shock has you reeling as the pot at his feet clanks and you scramble to your knees to help the soft pink haired boy to sit up.

“do i...know you?” he asks, accent thick with korean and god you wish he did, you can’t stand the way he’s looking at you, with earnest eyes and an innocent face because it reminds you of your jimin. wait, did he just speak to you in korean? did you just understand what he said?

stopping your work at brushing down jimin’s blue sweater and black and white striped top, you stare him down with wide eyes. you couldn’t speak korean to save your life, you didn’t even understand it when taehyung played their music to you, despite having family like seokjin who lived in seoul, you’d never picked up the language yourself. so how could it be that you understood him? jimin blinks over at you, looking just as confused, the thumping of his heart and the sudden rush of blood around his body causing him to furrow his brows. why was everything in his body screaming at him to pull you close? why were pictures of you together flashing behind his eyes?

“you wouldn’t remember me,” the singer hears you whisper as you settle back onto your knees, he usually only knows a few words of English but somehow he hears you perfectly. your face looks downtrodden and solemn as he watches you twiddle with your thumbs and jimin can’t help but reach over and grab one.

he runs his thumb over your knuckles and you gasp in shock, but this feels right to him. your heart rate picks up. “but i feel like i’ve known you forever. this is weird, i know that we just met and we have no clue what’s going on but i can’t help but feel that this is right,” jimin starts earnestly, grabbing your hand tighter and leaning forward to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “i feel connected to you some way or some how.”

“i feel the same,” you whisper back with hesitance, thinking of the words that your own jimin told you. that the real one, flows within you. “do you...do you remember my name? YN?”

the idol freezes, the hand that tucked away your hair is now cupping your cheek but it is still warm. more memories, that aren’t his, flash before his eyes but ones that are, like the day of the blood transfusion sound in his mind. “you’re the girl...from that accident,” jimin says and looks you over. “you made it!”

“i did,” you chuckle, casting your gaze aside as jimin holds your hand tightly. “i think that’s why we feel so connected, because your blood that saved my life, flows within me. you are a part of me, and someone once told me that i would learn many things from you, even if i didn’t know the real you.”

there’s a silence for a moment, before jimin shuffles closer to you and pulls you into his blue sweater. whilst the situation is strangely intimate, you can’t help but feel like this is normal for you. “you were in love with that someone, they were like me. i see the memories you made with them.” jimin mumbles into your hair, as you sit with him silently in the kitchen. you imagine taehyung must be having the time of his life, especially if the other members are out there.

you’re trying everything to distract from the fact that you loved him once -jimins but the way he looks at you so understandingly makes you crumble. “i was, deeply.” you say quietly and cling to jimin, trying your best not to cry.

he carefully tilts your chin up with a thumb and forefinger, letting his whiskey eyes travel across your face. when jimin smiles, it’s like a thousand christmas lights have been lit up at once, and your heart thumps loudly in your chest just by looking at him. “why don’t we start over? and you can get to know me, the real me?” jimin looks hopeful through the pink of his hair. “of course, unless-“

with shaking hands, you grab his cheeks softly and thrive in the warmth that they radiate. you boop his nose after “ i would love to.” you say and offer him a bright smile, to which he mirrors. you heart bursts, happy that the last christmas bought you together, giving you a second chance at a real love.

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pergaias · 3 years

Text

love and loss ; a short story

in a nutshell,,,,,,,, i was feeling really romantic one afternoon and wanted to write gay fluff, so i wrote gay angst instead. trigger warnings for blood, death, and i guess gay ? was making this hurt emotionally my way of calming myself down after i was lowkey asked out yes it was

word count ; 3293

They said that when you died, there were seven minutes of brain activity where you replayed all your memories—good and bad, bitter and sweet.

Seven fucking minutes. Tears traced their way down the dust on Kase’s face, and his dirty fingers shook as he held onto Cal’s limp hand. Cal’s lips were blue, his skin already turning gray. Kace had pulled Cal onto his lap almost as soon as he fell, when the other people in olive drab ran to find a medic, but by then Cal was almost gone.

It had been that window of seven minutes—if Cal had been less proud, maybe he’d have admitted to the hole in his side. He had covered it with the side of the jacket Kace had given him—Kace had run into him as soon as they got word of the Kenlan’s surrender, his dusty face split with a grin that crashed more quickly than his seaplane when Cal smiled, blood on his teeth, and collapsed to the ground.

His breathing was so ragged. Kase had screamed—they just won, he wailed, sinking to his knees next to Cal, brushing dirt and ash and dried blood off of Cal’s cheeks with shaking hands and running his fingers through that wheat-gold hair. They had just won—Arstrich wouldn’t be oppressed any longer.

They were supposed to be safe now. At peace to be who they were, to love who they wanted to love, to live long lives where they could waltz in the kitchen of a sunlit apartment and kiss messily and laugh and live and love and—it wasn’t supposed to end like this. It wasn’t, it wasn’t, it wasn’t—

“Kace,” Cal’s voice sounded like sandpaper. There was so much blood—on Cal, on the ground, covering Kace’s hands. He didn’t think that he’d ever get the smell—no, the taste, heavy and hot and metallic—of Cal’s blood out of his nose. Out of his mouth. Out of his mind.

“Callum, you fucking idiot, you—” Kace’s throat was so swollen from tears, from being so goddamn tired, tired of running and fighting and being unable to sleep because the nightmares kept him up—blood and fire and gunshots and screams, from the battlefields and from when his little seaplane fell out of the sky and a boy with eyes like storm-tossed seas and hair like the fields of wheat back home helped him out, blushing when his eyes dropped to Kace’s hand in his.

A medic had shown up, a girl barely older than Kase and Cal. Her brown hair was spilling over her shoulders as she slammed a kit down and cut the side of Cal’s thin white t-shirt, stained rust-red with his blood. The girl’s hands were nimble as she opened her kit and soaked up the blood with a wad of gauze. But it kept gushing—Kace felt sick.

The medic was probing through the gaping wound in his side for the fragments of bullet now—Kace had to look away. He couldn’t focus on the grayish pallor to Cal’s fair skin, or the ash clinging to his long lashes, or the blood bubbling from a corner of his mouth. He stared at one of the low-burning oil lamps instead, trying to keep himself from crying. Under his hand, Cal’s hand was so cold, his calluses rough on his palms.

The girl worried at her lower lip with her teeth as she motioned for Kace to get out of her way. Kace moved away, his heart aching when he tried to let go of Cal’s hand, but Cal squeezed his fingers. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his breathing shallow. “Don’t go,” he choked out, blood bubbling from a corner of his mouth. How was he still conscious?

“I’m here, Cal,” Kace promised, brushing hair from Cal’s forehead. Cal kept bleeding and bleeding—there was so much blood. It was everywhere. “I’m—I’m here.”

The medic’s brows were creased in concentration. “We’ll need to cauterize it,” she said, her voice wavering. There was ash streaked all over her face and hair, making her warm skin look sickly in the dim lighting of the control room. “But—”

“He’ll live,” Kace said stubbornly, squeezing Cal’s fingers. He made a gasping cough, more blood bubbling out of his mouth and running down his chin. “He has to.”

Kace felt numb, like he was underwater. Sick to his stomach, all the input that his surroundings were sending to his brain unable to convert into cohesive output. His mind kept flashing to his stolen moments with Cal—that day when they found the cold brook, when Cal had flashed that crooked grin and splashed some water at him.

The nights that Kace woke up screaming, his brown skin ashen with cold sweat. The night that Cal had taken his hand and crawled under the thin cot covers with him, when he had whispered into Kace’s ear until he stopped shaking. That was the first night he felt safe enough to fully close his eyes.

Cal was dying. There was no way around it—that was the glaring truth. His blue lips, the blood running down his chin and gushing out of his stomach. The boy Kace loved was dying.

The medic had a cheap cigarette lighter and someone’s well-worn hunting knife in her hands, a crescent-moon of red underneath her nails. She was heating the blade until it turned orange—someone handed Kace a wad of thick olive drab fabric and somehow Kace opened Cal’s mouth and shoved the fabric between his teeth—and then the medic murmured a prayer to the Saints as she pressed the heated blade to Cal’s side.

Cal’s scream was bloodcurdling. Kace hadn’t heard anything like it before, and he knew—he knew—that that sound would haunt him for the rest of his days.

Kace was next to Cal as he died, tears tracing down the dirt and ash and flakes of dried blood on his face, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on Cal’s hand, even though he knew there was no soothing what was to come.

For seven minutes after Cal’s heart stopped beating and Kace’s was torn in two, Cal’s brain would play back all his memories in a dream sequence. Seventeen years’ worth of memories condensed down into seven minutes.

Seven minutes too late. Seven minutes too short.

Seven minutes that felt like an eternity as Kace cried and cried, whispering I love you into Cal’s gold hair and kissed his cold lips and rocked his body, the body that had survived a war but had been taken down by a stray bullet minutes after General Veda’s surrender.

The medic’s hand was on Kace’s shoulder, and he cried harder. She had tried—they all had tried. If Cal had been less proud, they might have saved him. If it were Kace in that moment, Kace walking back from the field with a smile on his face, Cal the one waiting for him in the control room with a kiss, it—it—

“It hurts,” Kace whimpered, turning his face into the medic’s rough coat. Her bloodied fingers ran through Kace’s hair, gentle as a sister’s. Kace felt bad for not knowing her name—she had been there when he fell out of the sky. It had been her steady fingers that stitched the side of Kace’s face together. “Why does—why does it hurt so much?” his face crumpled.

Someone had covered Cal with a sheet while Kace cried. The boy he loved was dead and cold and covered by a white sheet, the color violent in the dim, dirty room.

The medic’s voice was soft, but it broke over the words. “Because it was real, Kace. He loved you and you loved him.”

Kace wiped his eyes with his sleeve and looked at the medic, her bangs pasted to her forehead with sweat, the ash and blood striped over her cheeks. She sank to her knees next to him, letting Kace wrap his arms around her and cry. “We live and we love and we lose,” she said softly. “That’s what living means.”

Why did he have to die. Why did he have to die. I love him, I loved him, he’s gone, he’s gone—

Kace only managed to nod. His hands were covered in Cal’s dried blood, his skin itching beneath the flakes. He didn’t want to get up and scrub it off, to collapse in the washroom once he was alone.

“Don’t mourn the life he lost, Kace. And if—” she bit her lip, “if he survived the wound, it—he’s not suffering anymore, Kace. He’s not in any more pain.”

Kace found it in himself to nod. “Celebrate the life he lived,” she urged. God, the medic was so young, and she’d probably seen more than Cal and Kase, simple soldiers, ever had. “Do you—do you want to tell me about the time you spent with him?”

He nodded again. His hands shook, but he told her. His heart ached and his eyes leaked acid rain but he found it in him to speak about the boy he loved.

He talked for seven minutes.

***

Inez was beaming. Avalon’s rosy brown hair was tumbling down her shoulders, half-up with a scrap of a ribbon Inez had ripped from the sleeve of her medic’s uniform and given to her as a present on the last Sun Festival. Her scarf was forlorn around her neck, the ends fluttering in the wind.

“Come on, Avalon,” Inez took her girlfriend’s hand, giddy for the sake of being giddy. The war was over, and the smell of blood didn’t linger on Inez’s hands anymore, she had finally scrubbed the crescents of rust from under her fingernails . . . and she was free to love Avalon.

“Where are we going?” Avalon’s eyes sparkled softly, two bright stars. She was so beautiful, with her red-brown hair and light brown skin, her lips full and soft and her cheeks dotted with freckles like constellations.

“Remember what you told me you always wanted to do?” Inez’s lips quirked into a smile. “At the bonfire party all those months ago, when you—”

“When I let my hair down for the first time?” Avalon teased, flicking a curl over her shoulder. Inez’ heart swelled with affection, and she stopped walking to tuck a stray strand behind Avalon’s ear. Avalon grabbed Inez’s wrist where her fingerless glove ended, her callused soldier’s fingers gentle. Inez’ throat went dry as her eyes met Avalon’s, gray meeting honey brown.

Avalon leaned in and brushed her lips against Inez’s, so softly that it could hardly be called a kiss at all. It felt both terrifying and elating to be this close—to be this in love—in the middle of an abandoned field, where anyone could see.

“We’re free, Inez,” Avalon breathed, throwing her arms around Inez’s neck. She smelled like rosewater and coffee and the lingering scent of gunpowder that always seemed to cling to her warm brown skin. “We fought and we won and we made it, but—” Avalon seemed nervous for some reason, her lips grazing against Inez’ collarbone. She shivered.

“We lived,” Inez finished, resting her cheek against Avalon’s and tangling their fingers together.

On the last day of the war, Inez had been the closest medic to the control room of the concrete bunker the Arstrich revolutionaries had called home base. She had tried and failed to save a young man who was shot by stray gunfire from the last of the Kenlan forces in the city—she remembered his freckled face, his dirty-blond hair streaked with grime.

She remembered the pained face of the dark-skinned lanky boy who clung onto his hand like a lifeline. She had sat and listened and held back tears as his boyfriend cried and talked about his life and the time they shared together.

It had made Inez stop and reconsider as she stripped off her bloodstained medic’s coat and tried not to cry as she desperately tried to scrub the blood from under her fingernails. Avalon had come into their little apartment in the barracks and absentmindedly dropped a kiss on Inez’ bare shoulder.

She had burst into tears then. Avalon had let her cry on her shoulder, stroking her hair and murmuring words in Onisfrian that Inez didn’t understand but sobbed all the more for—when Arstrich had been occupied by Kenlan, any foreign language or custom was illegal.

Avalon had always had a rebellious streak to her—shaving her head and joining the revolutionaries when she was sixteen, rising up in the ranks over the course of two years, kissing a female field medic in training behind the meager Solstice holiday decorations.

Inez hid a little smile as the pair walked up a little swell of earth that barely could have been called a hill, their linked hands swinging between them. Avalon sucked in a breath at the hot-air balloon waiting in the open field, striped in red and yellow. The colors of the Arstrich flag.

I want to fly, Avalon had said wistfully at the bonfire party, fluttering her hands around like birds on a current. Her russet hair had been lit up by the flickering flames and her honey-brown eyes glowed molten—she looked ethereal, otherworldly. Like one of the Arstrichan saints, with their golden crowns and pearlescent tearstains.

“Inessa,” Avalon turned to face her, tears sparkling in her eyes. “You’re afraid of heights—”

Inez wanted to laugh, to say something romantic like I’m not afraid of heights, I’m afraid of falling. And, Saints, I already fell for you, but instead she laughed a watery laugh and enveloped Avalon in a hug, their faces so close that if Inez tilted her head to the left, they’d be kissing.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice cracking, “Yeah I am.”

“I’m fearless enough for the both of us—” Avalon’s voice cracked, and Inez thought she’d add my love like she always did, but instead she stroked Inez’ thick brown hair, her nose cold against Inez’ cheek.

Onisfrian sounded like poetry, Inez thought, as she hoisted herself into the balloon’s basket and helped—or pretended to be useful—as Avalon clambered in, limber as a dancer. When Avalon spoke it, the words were like music.

“Do you know how to operate this?” Avalon teased, touching the tip of Inez’s nose as Inez reached up and pulled a lever. Inez gently smoothed her bangs down and grinned. “Somewhat. If we die, blame your commanding officer.”

Avalon slapped the side of Inez’ arm. “You got fucking Commander Rikveld to teach you how to operate a balloon?”

“I helped his wife deliver their twins safely,” Inez reminded her girlfriend. “He owed me a favor.”

Inez tried not to think of how far below the ground was—or how close the clouds seemed—as she operated the controls, focusing on not dying—Inessa you survived a war you can take your girlfriend ballooning one goddamn time—and when it came time to land, she found herself petting her hair, her bangs, the woolen fabric of her coat.

The coat was all-too-reminiscent of her medic’s jacket, olive green drab with an abundance of pockets and two gold ribbons down the sleeves, but when the war was won and Inez had the privilege of picking out her own clothes, she found herself wearing the same things. Camisole. Button-up shirt. Sweater. Warm coat. Heavy boots.

Avalon had done decidedly the opposite—at the parties the days and nights after the war had been won, she had worn dresses and suits, florals and stripes, in bright colors and beautiful fabrics and almost every cut imaginable. Her beautiful rosy brown hair, which she had kept tied up in buns and ponytails and chignons, was now free to spill over her shoulders and forehead.

Avalon was giddy when the balloon finally landed on the field again, her cheeks high with color and her hair windblown and curly. She clung onto Inez’ hand like a lifeline, her smile splitting her face in two. She was so beautiful, in the rosy light of the sunset. The sun’s dying rays painted her bronze and copper and gold.

“Avalonya Mar-Keteth,” Inez said, her palms sweating under her gloves. “I—I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Avalon’s warm eyes turned to Inez, and she pushed a stray curl behind her ear. “Inez?”

Inez’s fingers scrabbled in one of her coat pockets, closing around a box she had painstakingly whittled in her spare time. It had started as little projects to keep her hands from shaking—needlepoint and darning, knitting and woodwork.

She tried again, sinking down to one knee. She disbalanced and almost fell over, somehow managing to laugh. The sound echoed around her in the empty field—the balloon behind her, Avalon and the sinking sun in front of her, Avalon bathed in fiery light.

“Avalonya Mar-Keteth,” she managed to say, opening the little wood box. Inside was a simple vintage gold band—Inez’ mother’s. “You’ve—I can’t find the words to explain how much you mean to me, how much I love you, how you make my heart feel.” her heartbeat was a caged animal, fluttering in her throat and chest.

Avalon covered her mouth with her hands, her honey eyes welling up. “Will you—” Inez’ throat went dry, “Will you marry me?”

And then slowly, almost imperceptibly—Avalon shook her head.

“No—Avalon—” Inez’ eyes welled up with hot tears, her cheeks burning. She stumbled through a verse of Onisfrian poetry, but her voice died on her lips. She had a speech—Inez had a speech, but her lips wouldn’t work, her voice was dead—

“Why—why not?” Inez finally managed to say, her eyes wide and a heartbeat from spilling over with tears. “I—we were in love, Avalon, we—I love you—”

Avalon’s ears burned redder than her hair as she dipped her head. “I guess we had two very different plans for this evening,” was the only thing she said, before turning to head away. “This is—this is our end, Inessa. Every story comes to an end, even ours.”

Inez hadn’t realized that she’d started to cry. “You said it was a great love!” she protested, scrubbing her tears away with her sleeve. “One for—one for the ages, Avalon. You—you can’t even give me a reason.”

Avalon’s honey-brown eyes were downcast as she turned away. She didn’t bother to say anything else, just tuck her hands into her pockets and walk away. Inez wanted to dig a trench and bury herself in it.

Inez watched Avalon go. Love had slipped beyond her reaches—past the Unsea dividing Arstrich and Kenlan, past the lines that divided the two of them that they had the nerve and the desperation to cross.

They had survived a war together. They had lived when so many others didn’t—the two boys, those two unlucky boys who deserved so much better than they got—so many of Inez’ friends, her sister and her family, the commanding officer who had given Inez a chance when her family was gone and her village burned to the ground.

It was—it was imperceptible, the way it had quietly unravelled. Maybe it was because it lasted that Avalon wanted to tear it down, this lioness of a girl who did what so many others only ever dared to do. Inez’ fingers found her mother’s wedding band, the gold of the ring and the three clumsily cut diamonds.

She turned away as the sun sank below the horizon, painting the empty field the color of blood.

Inez had lived through a war that took everything away from her—her family, her sense of humanity, the innocence of never seeing a life ebb away underneath her hands.

Her mind flickered to the words she’d whispered to the soldier boy during the last moments of the war—we live and we love and we lose. That’s what living means.

She could live through this. She had to.

#cece writes #short story #i forgot how to tag things yay ✨

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deathtale0-0 · 3 years

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Mother's Day

TW // police brutality, police murder, racism

It was 19:35 on Mother's Day and I was going home. Well, more like I was rushing home. I was doing that weird thing where you run a bit and then walk a bit so that people don't look at you funny, but it was dark out, so I don't know why I was even doing it. You see, I spent Mother's Day at a friend's house because ma was working a long shift at the hospital today and didn't want me to be alone, but she was meant to be home soon, and I was meant to be home already. See my problem?

Flickering lights from streetlamps chased me, happy to be of use to someone in the night, as I noticed the foolishness of what I was doing and decided to run the last stretch home. My trainers thumped dully each time they connected with the dying pavement, with each crack and break it smugly showed a naïve attempt to catch at someone's feet and drag them to its depth of humiliation and neglect. Silence encompassed the night air, only broken by my shallow pants as I checked the phone held in my nimble mocha hand to see the time - 19:37 - I would make it home before her. But that happiness was short-lived as I rounded the corner and was hit with a gut-wrenching dread. Not dread that one feels as they go to their first school dance, or when they speak in public, but the type of dread that creeps into your flesh from the cruelty of the world and seeps into your bloodstream, filling your body with the distinct sense that something is not right. This dread gripped my mind with talons in its dark prowess, and came in the form of white and blue…

I slowed to a halt as the police officer came into sight, the rules that turned my melanin into a curse in this country flashing across my mind in a panic, but it was too late, he had seen me running. Without thinking, I tucked my phone into my sleeve. He stared at me, his brown eyes pierced my brown skin as I failed to see the softness that usually came with those colour eyes and as he failed to see me as anything other than my blackness. Flustered, I scanned him, saw the dirty blond hair poking out from underneath the hat that sat proudly on his head and the mouth that was set in a hard line. I saw the tension in his muscles and the wariness of his stance as he eyed me up and down, scrutinising me. I saw him take in the Adidas joggers, the Jordan's, the black hoodie, the black baseball cap, and most of all the black skin. Today was a bad day to wear all black as well as be all black. His harsh eyes stopped at my shaking fingers clutching my duffel bag tight. My own eyes flicked down to my bag before looking back up and with shaky legs, I decided to keep walking and pretend as if nothing had happened – because nothing had, I didn't do anything wrong so there was no need for me to be nervous. Yet as I took steps forwards, I realised there was a need for me to be nervous because things happen, I just never thought that they would happen to me, but my feet walked all of one metre before the officer stepped in my path.

He stood directly under a streetlamp, "Where you heading, kid?" A question that was so simple, so easy, and yet so loaded. I was paused in the middle of the pavement, about two and a half metres away from him, stood in the spot where the light from the lamp had begun to fade – the outskirts. Growing up I knew my favourite Bible verse was 'all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God' but why was it that when he looked at me I felt like I had fallen farther than others? When he looked at me and asked that question, I felt like the biggest sinner of them all. After being silent for a moment too long he took a step forward and asked again.

"Home, sir," the words tumbled out, raw and messy, but oh so true, "I'm just heading home, sir."

"Home? Let's not pretend I didn't see you running a minute ago, where are you really heading?" His voice had a weight to it that made me sick. A quiet conviction that made me feel guilty.

"Sir, I swear I'm just going home-" the words tumbled out again, raw and messy, but oh so desperate.

"Then why were you running?" He took a step closer and I took a step back, the light surrounding me became dimmer.

"I was, it was because-" my hands were sweaty as they balled into fists but then straightened out again because I didn't want to seem angry, didn't want to seem like one of those drug-dealing thugs that the media paints us as, "-I'm, I'm late home, sir, and my ma she-"

"What's in the bag?" he demanded, his gruff voice taking on a menacing tone that sent chills up my spine.

"Sir it's nothing, it's just-"

"You just said it was nothing so how is it suddenly something, huh? Tell me where you're really coming from," he walked straight up to me and stared me in the eyes, "what you got in there kid? Who'd you rob the store for? You one of those thugs?" and the condemnation in his words almost made me believe it. I stared into his eyes and saw nothing but coldness, I thought that if we had no resemblance then it'd be over for me, so as pitiful as it sounded I hoped and prayed that he would see that I wasn't doing anything wrong if only because we both had brown eyes – he could relate to me because we both had brown eyes. Pathetic right? My body shook as his malice grew in front of me, "What, you think you guys can keep getting away with things like this? Open your bag!" and I felt tears prick at the back of my eyes as I willed myself not to cry in front of this man. I guess my silence assured him of his twisted righteousness as he shoved me to the ground with such force that I heard a sickening crack and when I touched the back of my head, it came away wet, slick with blood. My phone, although still in my sleeve had landed awkwardly on my wrist as he loomed over me like a demon, his pale skin stark against the night. "Are you not gonna answer me, boy?" the question, so casual, as he crouched beside me, baring his teeth and cruelty.

I didn't know why he was so angry. But I did. I was a criminal in his eyes. A criminal for having my skin two shades too dark, I missed the mark for acceptance in his eyes – the eyes of this country, this society. I was painted with a blackness that came from richness and royalty, but today ordained me as a target for those filled with a lust for hatred to take out their bigotry on. A blackness that was not a choice for me and yet shackled me to the fate of every other black man in this country – to die because of my blackness or live constantly reminded of it. Looking at him now, with the streetlamp behind him, I bet this scene was right to him, he was standing in the light, and here I was, sprawled out on the floor, afraid, alone, and in the dark. He shone his torch at me, and I put my hand out to block it, but as my hands went out to protect, his hands went out to his gun. I froze. As I lay there, vulnerable and with my melanin pooled around me – the dark in his city of light, of white - he kicked my bag, "Open it."

"Yes, sir," came my shaky reply as I slowly pulled myself up off the floor, my head lit up with agony. With his hands firmly plastered on his gun and his gun aimed at me, I reached for the zipper with my coffee hands and began to unzip my bag slowly. But, through some cruel twist of fate, someone called me. The call surprised me, so I let go of my sleeve and out fell the phone, but to him it was a gun…to them it's always a gun.

I felt them before I heard them, before I saw them, and I wish I could tell you how it felt, but I can't, because it hurt too much. He shot me six times in the chest before I could even say "Please," before I could even look at him and plead my case of life in this monochrome world. After the ringing in my ears stopped, I became weightless – just for one lovely moment – before my body, mind and soul dropped as one to the ground, feeling like the burden of the world that Atlas carried on his shoulders. I'd never felt so heavy, so conscious of my humanity and mortality as I did when I lay there dying. Tears streamed, desperate to fall as evidence of my life, to leave the mark that I was here, because there was no one else around to see me fall. As I felt vibrations in the earth, I looked to my side to see my phone screen lit up and ringing once more. After cringing at the brightness, I noticed that it was 19:45 and that the caller, it was ma. I was too tired to move. I lay there, in the darkness, with naught but my wheezing breaths, my inky blood seeping from my body, and my tragic story seeping from my soul to keep me company. A flash of pink caught my eyes as they started to close, pink of all things, pink that seemed so out of place in my greyscale experience. It was from my roses. I gathered my remaining strength to tilt my head to look through the half-zipped top of my bag and there were the roses I had bought for ma resting in the bottom. More tears streamed. Oh, the irony of it all. Looking up, I see the moon and decide that I want to die looking at it, simply because I have nothing else to look at. It has a sharp contrast to the darkness of the night sky, one's attention is drawn to it as it overlooks the Earth, taking over from the sun as the overseer and the one who must witness all the horrors this world has to offer. How sad it must be to be the moon. Grey, white, and black begin to swirl into each other and blend as I keep looking, the grey overtaking the white, and finally the black overtakes the grey as I close my eyes to rest.

At 19:49, ma called me again, but I was dead.

#short story #short fiction #sad #tw police violence #tw police murder #tw police brutality #original work #death #racism

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simsadventures · 4 years

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Drunk

Summary: You and Thor have been friends ever since he joined the team. Although your slight (read enormous) crush on him, you never wanted to take it that far. What happens when you two get drunk, again?

Warnings: alcohol abuse (nothing crazy though), drunk Thor, smut (MUST BE 18+ TO READ THIS, warnings are put before and after the smut part, so that those of you who don’t want to or can’t read smut can read the rest of the story comfortably), swearing, fluff

Pairing: Thor x Reader

Word Count: 3385

A/N: This is the last entry from my 200 Followers Celebration, the prompt being We can’t get drunk again, you know what happened last time. (it will be highlighted in the text) Hope whoever requested it will enjoy it, just as much as all of you guys. Feedback is everything, let me know what you guys thought. Also, this got little longer than I thought, hm…

Masterlist

The compound was quiet. You were laying in your room, reading your favourite sci-fi book The Moon King (I truly highly recommend that), sipping on your mint tea. Everyone from the team was on some sort of mission, but because you got little hurt the last time around, everyone thought it would be a good idea if you stayed behind just this once.

You protested, very loudly, but it was fruitless as Steve only looked at you sternly, his expression telling you that fighting your Captain’s direct orders was a big no-no. He said you should relax, read a nice book, and just be with yourself for once. But what he didn’t understand was that you didn’t want to alone. You wanted some kind of company, even if for only a few hours a day.

Your ribs were all ok, and if there weren’t the now green bruise between your 4th and 7th rib, you’d be as good as new. You rolled your eyes just remembering all the events of last night, when two different teams were sent to two separate missions, trying to settle some unrests around the planet. You let it slip your mind, and you dived back into the book.

You were so engrossed in the book that you didn’t even hear the door to your room opening. Despite knowing what happened next, you were drinking every single word in, and you were amazed by the plot when suddenly, a hand touched your shoulder.

You shrieked so loud you thought your throat would be forever sore, and you tried to fight the unknown attacker. Because you were sitting directly under the lamp, your vision in the dark was a little hazy, to say the least. You couldn’t really see who you were fighting, but because the person didn’t say anything, you were thinking some kind of burglar.

You tried to punch him, but his reflexes were faster than you expected, so the man caught your wrist. This infuriated you. Who did he think he was that he came into the Avenger compound and fought one of the Earth’s protectors. You relaxed your muscles, to tell the man that you were done fighting, and the second his grip on your wrist loosened, you pulled it harshly from him, jumped on the armchair you were previously sitting in and jumped on the guy’s back.

You squeezed your thighs tightly so that you’d cut his airflow, enough for him to maybe pass out so you’d have time to check the damage done in the building. What you didn’t expect was the guy to have almost supernatural strength, as he grabbed your waist, and pulled your off of him easily, right to his arms. You were prepared to slap him or kick him in his chin, but before you could do anything, he spoke up.

“Is that how you greet every one of the team, sweetheart, or do I get special treatment?”

You stopped mid-slap and blinked harshly against the darkness. And there he was, clear as day. Thor fucking Odinson.

You quickly jumped from his arms and started hitting his chest and arm. “Have you lost your fucking mind, you fucking moron? I thought someone came here to kill me, you dipshit!”

Thor laughed heartily, both from the things you were saying and from the murderous look you were giving him. “And don’t you think that maybe FRIDAY would let you know that something was going on? There are very few people on this planet who can go around her, sweetheart.”

“Oh, shove the sweetheart up your ass!” You hissed at him, and finally, let yourself relax. You fell backwards on the sofa, groaned and closed your eyes. You might have been a part of the Avengers, but you weren’t too used to getting attacked in your own home. Your hands were shaking slightly, and your breathing was still shallow, but you didn’t want to seem like a coward.

“Wait, you really got scared, Y/N?” Thor looked at you, genuine concern in his voice. He saw that you were trying to keep yourself in line, but your body was still shaking. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I thought you heard me but were ignoring me on purpose.”

“I know, I just… I was so into the book that I didn’t hear, that’s all. I think I need a drink, what do you say?” You smiled up at him. You were thrilled he came, even if you weren’t too appreciative of the way he went around it. You and Thor have been close since he joined the team, you helped him adjust to Earth, and when he and Jane parted ways, you help him mend his broken heart. A lot of alcohol and fast food was the way to do it.

Somewhere during that time, you fell for him, even though you knew you shouldn’t have. He was a part of the team, and, for the love of God, he was a literal God! You were a mere human with some enhanced skills. He looked like Greek God, and you were just you. There was no way in hell; this could go any further than a silly crush.

“I mean, we totally can have a drink or two, but we can’t get drunk again, you know what happened last time,” Thor smirked at you, and you just rolled your eyes at him. Of course, you knew what happened last time, but that was a one-time thing, and you were quite positive that you now had a better grip on yourself.

It was after a particularly dangerous and exhausting mission that you two thought it would be a good idea to sit down for a few drinks. Few drinks became few bottles, and before you knew it, you were dancing in your underwear on top of Tony’s bar, Thor cheering on you from under you. You then sang a shitload of karaoke and even recorded for some weird reason. Of course, you forgot that the footage existed, and it was only when Sam found it and showed it to the whole team you remember the stupidities you two were doing.

“I mean it, just a few drinks, Thor. What are you afraid of? It was my almost naked ass that the whole team had to watch, not yours.” You winked at him and marched towards your own hidden stash.

“Soooo, is it gonna be, vodka, gin, whiskey, or rum?” You grinned widely at him, and Thor just laughed at the number of bottles you had hidden there.

“I’d go with vodka, sweetheart. But just because I know you’re not gonna feel like hist tomorrow.”

“Well, my dear Thor, you ain’t gonna be feeling like shit either because you’re a freaking God and you’d need like a full truck to actually get wasted.”

He laughed and watched you pour the drinks.

After the third drink, you were, as usual when a little tipsy, more cuddly and touchy, which Thor would never in a million years complain about. He loved how you pressed your body against his, how he could feel the warmth coming from you radiating around him. He loved these quiet nights drinking with you, especially when the two of you were alone.

“You are quiet today, what’s on your mind?” You looked up at him through your lashes and placed your warm hand on his knee. Thor could hear his heart in his eyes, threatening to run out of his body if you continued to touch him.

“Just thinking about the last time we drank together, nothing serious.” He said mysteriously.

“And what about that? I mean, we’ve established that 9 drinks were my limit and you should keep an eye on me.” You smiled at him sweetly, still not seeing the point of getting back to the events of that night.

“Do you remember everything that happened, Y/N?” You frowned a little. You had certain blind spots in your memory from that night, but you just assumed it was more dancing and singing.

“Maybe not, what are you talking about? Did I do something even more inappropriate?”

“Nah, it doesn’t matter. Let’s talk about something else.”

But now, you were intrigued. “No, I wanna know what I did or said that you’re still keen on thinking and talking about it. So tell me, Thor.”

Your hands now left his body so that you could cross your arms, and Thor felt the loss of contact almost immediately. He just wanted to take your hand and put it back on him. Anywhere.

“You told me about your crush on me…” Thor whispered and you swore your heart stopped beating. YOU WHAT NOW!! You were always so careful not to let it slip, not knowing that you already had and that he’s known for months now. The carpet was suddenly the most interesting thing on the whole damn world.

“I didn’t- I mean I- I just-“ you tried to get at least some excuse out of your mouth, but nothing seemed believable enough. Not to say that the alcohol in your system was probably not helping you at the moment. You couldn’t look him in the eyes, not now, not ever. This was the worst thing that could’ve happen to you. Your mind was racing, but then you felt a hot palm on your knee.

You reluctantly looked up, and saw Thor, beaming like a ray of sunshine. “I have a crush on you too, for the longest time, my love. But I never thought you’d be interested. But then you said all those things and danced like a fairy at the bar, and I thought that I could finally confess how I felt. But you didn’t remember anything about it the next morning. And I couldn’t bring myself to let you know I knew… I wanted you to tell me sober, and again, you know so that I could be sure you actually meant it.”

The look on your face must have been priceless. So many emotions were crossing it that you yourself couldn’t keep up with speed. You were all confused, little ashamed, totally ecstatic, and utterly dumbfounded. “Wait… so what you’re saying, is that you like me too? As like like? Or like, like like?”

“I have to idea what is the difference between the two option you’ve just given me, but I like you more than a friend. I like you the way a man likes a woman, in an intimate way.”

“Like… how intimate are we talking about?” Ok, now this was definitely the vodka talking, but you kinda had to ask? You wanted to be sure he didn’t want to continue just walking around each other.

Thor smirked, and the hand residing on your knee was suddenly much higher on your thigh. He squeezed it lightly and shifted, so there was no space between the two of you on the sofa. “I think you know very well how intimate we’re talking about. But don’t you dare to believe that I only for your body, or what it can give me. I want all of you, Y/N. Please, let me be here for you, whatever you need.

Your brain stopped working the second, he shifted his hand so you could just nod, and hope for the best. But he wasn’t satisfied with that. “I need to hear you say it, sweetheart. I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with. If you tell me to just cuddle you the whole night, I’d be more than happy to do that. But I need you to actually use your magical voice and tell me what it is that you want.”

“I want you, Thor. I’ve wanted you for so long, that even though cuddling sounds amazing, I think we can postpone that a little. I want you to make love to me, Thor.”

Warning: smut starting

And that was all it took for him to quickly stand up, pulled you up as well, and kiss you with so much fervour it almost took your breath away. He explored your mouth with his tongue, trying to conquer every part of it and dominate you in the way no man ever could, or ever will be able to. Thor planned on keeping you forever. No man could see his beautiful dove all flushed and horny, the way she was at the moment.

Your hands, even though at first tightly intertwined in his blond locks, started to wander across his body. You wanted to explore every inch and worship it. It was finally happening, and you wanted to give it all you had. You caressed his cheeks, continued down to his neck, and then even lower towards his chest, which you scratched a little through the fabric of his t-shirt. When you reached his abdomen, you could feel his muscles contracting under your touch, and couldn’t help but smirk into the passionate kiss. You had an effect on this handsome, perfect God. Your self-confidence rose with every second.

It wasn’t until you reached the now prominent bulge in his pants, that Thor pulled away from you a little, to draw in a ragged breath. When he looked back at you, his pupils were lust-blown, and his brows were furrowed a little. It was the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. And you couldn’t wait for more.

You wanted to pull his pants down, but Thor stopped you mid-movement. “Let’s go to your bedroom, dove. I can’t make love to you on this sofa!” With that, he grabbed your ass, squeezed it just for the fun of it, and picked you up. You immediately slithered your legs around his waist and started kissing down his neck. You stopped on his pulse point, which seemed to be an especially sensitive place for him because he all but shuddered when you reached it. Bingo, you thought.

You sucked a little hickey there, just to see him sporting it for the rest of the night, knowing that it was you who did that. He reached your bedroom in no time, kicked the door closed, and threw you onto the bed. He started shedding his clothes, one item after the other. You were mesmerised by his chiselled chest and his thick thighs. You needed to feel his skin on yours.

You followed his suit, and quickly got rid of your shirt and sweatpants, so you were left in your sports bra and panties, just like Thor was only left in his boxer-briefs.

His eyes roamed your body, and even though you didn’t think it was possible, his eyes darkened even more. You were a little ashamed that you weren’t wearing some sexy lingerie like those girls in the movies, but you really didn’t plan on having sex with God when you were dressing that day. Your only relief was that you shaved the night before.

Thor, however, didn’t seem to mind your attire, as he stalked towards you and on top of you, wedging his body between your legs so that he could comfortably hold you with one arm, while the other was supporting his weight. His kissed you again, but this one was much shorter than those in the other room. He soon started trailing kisses down your jaw and neck, getting to your cleavage. You wanted to pull the bra from your body, but Thor stopped you. “Leave it on, for now.” He whispered huskily and only pulled it up from your breasts.

The rolled bra made them even perkier than they usually were, and Thor seemed to enjoy that immensely. He sucked on one and then the other, to make sure each of them was treated fairly. He didn’t even touch you where you needed him most, and you felt you were completely soaking your panties.

Thor released your left nipple from his mouth with a pop and continued his exploration. His kissed down your navel and your lower belly, before he stopped, right above the hem of your panties.

“You can still say no, sweetheart.” You just looked at him and saw that he genuinely meant what he was saying. You smiled lightly and shook your head. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for too long, Thor, please. Take me, I’m yours.”

You didn’t need to say more, as Thor ripped the panties off of your body in one movement, and let his hands pull your legs apart, revealing your already glistening and puffy pussy. Thor groaned, and if it was possible, he got harder just by looking at you. He felt like a teenager, ready to bust his nut any moment from seeing a pussy for the first time. But he wanted to give you all the pleasure in the world, so his own thoughts could wait.

He didn’t waste any time. He delved headfirst into your warmth, his tongue licking a long strip through your folds. He moaned at the taste of you, and you were a goner. Your body was writhing and shaking already, and he only just started touching you. He dived in, licking and sucking, sometimes coming up for air, and giving the much-needed attention to your clit. You could feel the familiar heat building up in your stomach, and Thor could probably tell that you were close as well, because he suddenly stopped.

You growled at him, and he kissed the inside of your thigh apologetically. “I want you to have the strongest orgasm of your life, love, and for it to be on my cock. I swear it will be worth it.”

He didn’t waste much time after that. He lined his now throbbing cock with your entrance, and looked at your face, searching for any hints of uneasiness or uncertainty. But all he found was utter devotion, and he couldn’t wait any longer.

He filled you in one go, his dick cheating itself to the hilt in your warmth. You both groaned in unison at the feeling. “You’re so tight, Y/N, God!” Thor growled to your ear, and the sound coming from his mouth made your pussy clench his dick tightly. He groaned once again.

“Don’t do that to me! If you keep doing it, I won’t last!”

“Then don’t! We’ve been waiting long enough, don’t you think?” He smirked at you devilishly and kissed you passionately. “As you wish, my queen.”

His thrust became relentless. You wanted to meet his thrusts, but all you could do was to lay there, and take all Thor had to give you. Even without changing angles or positions, you could feel the heat coming again, and this time, there was no way in hell you’d be denied.

You put your legs on Thor’s small back, pushing him deeper in you, and when you felt him twitch inside you involuntarily, the coil in you snapped.

You came with a wail of his name on your lips, your pussy clenching him like a vice. Just the sight of you made Thor’s dick twitch with excitement, so he knew he wouldn’t be able to last long once inside your velvet walls. But he honestly didn’t expect it to take mere minutes before you both came.

Thor grunted, his thrust becoming more erratic, and you could finally feel his seed painting your walls. You sighed happily. This moment was all you ever dreamt of and more. Thor rolled off of you but took you with him, so you were now tucked under his arm, while both of you tried to catch your breaths.

Warning ending

“I’m such an idiot, my love,” Thor whispered to your hair. You looked at him confused, and little scared to be honest because the darkest thought crept into your mind. “I mean, I could’ve had you all this time, but because I’m a stubborn ass of a man, I kept it all to myself. I’ll make it up to you, Y/N, I promise.”

You laughed heartily, your fears flowing away with your laughter. “We’re both idiots, Thor. Let’s just agree that we will be honest with each other from now on, ok?”

Thor nodded his head and kissed your forehead lovingly. This was precisely the place he wanted to be, and there was no way in hell he was giving this up.

Tags: @eileenalone @p8tn0lish

#thor #thor odison x reader #thor odinson #thor odinson oneshot #thor odinson fanfiction #avengers #avengers fanfiction #marvel #mcu #mcu fanfiction #Smut #fluff

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blackcatkita · 4 years

Text

264 Days

A Storyscape: Titanic fanfic

Pairing- Charlie x Adele

Word Count- 3994

A/N- I have no business writing this but here we are.

Possible trigger warnings- Emotional trauma, loss, alcoholism and survivor’s guilt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

January 3, 1913

Hileni ignored me when I told her we weren’t exchanging Christmas gifts and bought me this journal. I can’t scold her for it, I did get her a cat and I know she’s only trying to help. I think she thinks if I have somewhere to write my thoughts I’ll be able to move on; stop “avoiding life” as she puts it. But where do I even begin?

It’s been 264 days.

There are times I feel fine, more like myself, or how I used to be. I try to keep busy, working some fill-in hours at the shop and full time at my new job. It’s rewarding work, at an organization developed to aid survivors and immigrants find employment, housing, food… I’ve only been there for 6 weeks. I hope I’m making a difference, even if it is small.

Some days I can’t believe almost 9 months have passed. The nights are the worst when Hileni has gone to bed and it’s quiet. I will shut my eyes and be back there; watching the stern dive into the water, panicked faces all around me, hear screams or the notes of ‘Nearer My God to Thee’ drifting through the open window. Reminders come during the day as well. For just a few seconds the floor will seem to pitch, the air turns cold against my skin and I can feel the frigid water around my ankles. But the nights… the nights are the worst.

Still, I count myself lucky. I’m alive. Hileni is alive. Zetta, Matteo, Lena, Sabine, heck, even James that bastard, they’re alive. And Charlie… Charlie is alive. By some miracle, everyone I care about survived the tragedy but there were so many that didn’t. So, so, many…

I know I mustn’t dwell on the lost. We have to live our lives. We have to move forward. Though some of us are doing better than others.

Zetta wasn’t kidding when she said if she stopped she would start thinking. She went from the release party straight to filming her next project. I’ve received a few letters from her, asking how I am and gushing about Richard and the wedding. It seems she has some affection for her fiancé after all and not a moment too soon. The wedding is but two weeks away and I’m excited to go, it will be nice to see everyone together again.

Matteo has been wonderful. He took a job as head concierge at a high-end hotel downtown and it suits him. He seems happier than he was working for James. The hotel keeps him busy but he visits when he can and insists on getting me out of the house. We go to dinner, often with Hileni but sometimes not. He helped us find the two-bedroom flat we’re currently living in; made possible by $500 in an anonymous envelope addressed to me that was left at our old place. I’m sure it was from James, who else would have sent it? I asked Matteo if he knew anything about it and he claimed he didn’t but he averted his gaze and shifted his feet like he does when he’s hiding something. I would bet it was him who slipped it under our door.

He wants more from me. He said as much. Told me he would be waiting if I ever decided to give us a chance. I wish he wouldn’t. He needs to find someone who will love him the way he deserves to be loved and that someone isn’t me. It would be easier if it was but my heart belongs to someone else.

My love. My Charlie.

Charlie… my heart aches when I’m near him and it aches when I’m away from him. Many would say I did the wrong thing that night in the boiler room. He decided to stay behind, to sacrifice himself and I took it away from him. I fully admit it was a selfish thing to do but because of what I did his sisters still have a brother, his mother still has a son. I won’t apologize for that. I won’t apologize for saving his life. Is that what he needs to hear?

Almost two weeks passed after we talked at Zetta’s premiere before I saw him again when he came into the shop to tell me the ship to Southampton he meant to steward on left the night before. He was packed and ready but when it came time to embark he couldn’t make himself get on. I asked if he was afraid and he said no, there wasn’t any rush, he was making good money and another ship was leaving in a few weeks. When he didn’t get on the next one, he said there must be something keeping him in America after all.

I allowed the hope I felt at the premiere to grow and since then we’ve been spending more and more time together. Often he’s there to walk me home after work, taking detours through the park or stopping for ice cream. We go to the pictures and he’s over for dinner at least twice a week, staying to talk for hours after Hileni goes to her room. There’s been glimpses of how we used to be, an affectionate look, fleeting touches, his hand in mine or a kiss on my cheek, yet he still holds himself back. Gone is the Charlie I fell in love with. The man with the sparkling eyes and warm smile that could light up the world. He’s broken, and I’m the one responsible.

He’s drinking too much, haunted by those we left behind. Several times he’s come here late at night, so drunk he can barely stand and saying the things I long to hear from him sober. I make up the couch and sit with him until he falls asleep and in the morning he’s gone, leaving behind a thank you note apologizing for the night before. Just once, I wish he’d stay. Then I would know he…

A knock on the flat’s door startles me and my pen falls from my fingers, rolling across the desk and coming to a stop at the base of the lighted lamp. I glance out my bedroom window and am surprised to see how high the moon is in the darkened sky. It’s later than I realized. The knock sounds again, louder this time. Given the hour, it has to be Charlie. The knowledge of it makes my stomach flutter and my heart race. Quickly, I stand and slip into my robe, carefully making my way through the unlit parlor before the noise wakes Hileni.

Another knock sounds as I slide the bolt and open the door. The reprimand I intended to give dies on my lips as I take in the two men standing in front of me; Matteo, face pinched in an annoyed expression, half holding up a grinning Charlie. A sigh escapes me as I step to the side, opening the door wider to let them in. “Help him to the couch please, Matteo.”

“I’m fine. I can walk by myself.” Charlie pulls away from Matteo, stumbling into me as he crosses the threshold. “Whoa there,” he chuckles as I steady him with my hands on his waist. Looking into my eyes, his expression changes into something wistful. “My beautiful girl… My Adal…” He reaches up with both hands, one cupping my cheek and the other playing with a tendril of my long hair. “Your hair is down. I love when your hair is down.”

“Aren’t you on the make tonight.” Gently, I take his hand from my cheek, loop my arm around his waist and begin leading him to the sofa. “Come on, you, sit down before you fall down.”

Charlie scoffs but doesn’t otherwise argue, leaning heavily on me as Matteo shuts the door and follows us in. I stumble, nearly pulled down with Charlie as he collapses onto the sofa with a heavy sigh, as though sitting lifted some of the weight from his shoulders.

Matteo turns on the lamp beside us as I stand, then looks at me, brow furrowed only slightly. “Some tea, perhaps?”

I nod, recognizing from his expression the question is not about tea but wanting to speak to me privately. Walking into the kitchen, I turn the light switch on the wall before hurrying to fill the kettle. Ignoring the heat of Matteo’s gaze on my back from where he stands in the doorway, I set the kettle on the stove and crouch down, lighting a match to ignite the wood inside.

“How long are you going to let this continue?”

“As long as it takes,” I answer, blowing out the match and shutting the firebox door. I don’t look at him as I stand and move to the cupboard, mumbling as I take out a tin of tea and three cups. “It’s my fault he’s like this.”

I hear Matteo sigh before he joins me at the counter. “I’m not staying.” Eyes locked on mine, he takes the teacup from my hand, his fingertips lingering against my skin before he puts it back in the cupboard. Clearing his throat, he scoops tea leaves into the two remaining cups. “You have to stop blaming yourself, Adele. You had your reasons for doing what you did.”

“But does he understand that?”

“He does,” Matteo nods. “Your Charlie’s demons…” he pauses, choosing his words. “they aren’t named Adal.”

I blink up at him, surprised to hear him pronounce my given name, the name Charlie calls me. I open my mouth to speak but the sound of water boiling draws my attention and I take the kettle from the stovetop, turning back to fill the cups. “How did you end up with him anyway?” I ask Matteo while I pour, returning the pot to the stove as he answers.

“He was waiting outside the hotel when I got off my shift, demanding to know what was going on between you and me.”

“He what?” Panic rises in me as I worry over why Charlie would think Matteo was anything more than a dear friend. As far as I am aware, I have never given him cause to think otherwise, but Matteo tends to resort to sass when challenged. “What did you tell him?”

There’s a sadness in his eyes as he answers, “That he is a fool who could have everything if he only saw what was right in front of him.” Closing his eyes, he lets out a slow breath and shakes his head. “I… I have to go. Goodnight, Adele.” With those words he strides out of the kitchen, leaving me speechless as I watch him walk away.

The opening and closing of the front door shakes me from my stupor and I turn off the light before taking our tea into the parlor. Hileni stands before me, looking at the door in confusion. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were up.”

“Is Matteo okay?” she asks, glancing between myself and Charlie where he sits on our sofa, head leaning against the back with his eyes closed. “He didn’t say a word, only nodded at me and left.”

I shrug in response.

“I brought Charlie’s bedding out.” Hileni continues, gesturing at a blanket and pillow on the armchair.

Feeling a pang in my chest, I step forward to place the cups on the coffee table so she can’t see my expression. Charlie has come here in this condition enough times she thinks of our extra bedding as his. My little sister shouldn’t have to deal with it but I can’t turn him away. “Thank you, habibti. I’m sorry for waking you up. For… all of this. I’m sorry.”

She shrugs. “It’s Charlie. It’s fine, really.” Her lips twitch in a sad excuse for a smile before she heads back to her room, turning to look at me with a smirk on her face and her hand on the door. “Try not to keep me up, though.”

Shaking my head, I look up at the ceiling and fight back a smile. One of these days I’m going to remember how grown up and bold she’s become. “Go to bed!” I don’t even finish the sentence before she closes the door, giggling.

Letting out a sigh, I pick up the pillow and give it a fluff before slipping it between Charlie and the arm of the sofa. He doesn’t stir as I sit, facing him with my legs tucked beneath me and for a moment I watch his broad chest rise and fall with slow, steady breaths. My eyes trail up to his face, noting the differences between the man I met and the man before me now. In waking hours he looks tormented, older than his twenty-five years. His cheeks hollowed from weight loss, his eyes, dull and tired and a visible furrow between his brows more often than not. But in his sleep, he looks young again, peaceful and untroubled, more like the man he used to be. His hair has come loose from his usual smart style and I reach out, unable to stop myself from brushing it off his forehead.

A low hum of satisfaction sounds when my fingers caress his skin and with his eyes closed, he takes my hand, bringing it to his lips to press a gentle kiss to the back of it.

“Lie down, Charlie. You’ll get a neck ache if you sleep like that.”

“I’m not sleeping.” He drops our joined hands between us and turns to look at me, his glazed eyes pleading as he looks into mine. “Sit with me. Just for a little while. Please.”

“Alright, just for a little while,” I agree. “I made tea but if you’re hungry I can get you something to eat.”

“Always taking care of me…” His lips slowly curl into a soft smile as he shakes his head. “I’m not hungry but, thank you.” The joy in his eyes is brief and slips away as he studies my face, replaced with something I can’t identify. Is it sadness? Longing? Desire? My breath catches in my lungs as he leans forward, brushing his fingertips across my cheek to stop me from turning away. His gaze drops to where he’s trailing his thumb across my bottom lip and when he speaks, his voice is thick with want. “Can I kiss you?”

I should say no. I should tell him he’s drunk and not thinking clearly. I should protect my heart. But as his warm brown eyes meet mine I know there is no protecting it, for it belongs to him. How I’ve longed to feel his soft lips upon mine again, to feel his heart beating in his chest as he held me in his arms, safe and warm. I should say no… I should say no, but my voice is breathless when I tell him, “Yes.”

His other hand comes up, joining the first to frame my face. He leans in further still, tilting his head as our eyes slide shut. The kiss is soft and hesitant, almost reverent as his lips brush against mine. He draws in a shaky breath, my name a whisper against my lips as he threads his fingers through my hair and cups the back of my neck. Wrapping an arm around my waist to pull me tighter to him, his lips part, groaning into my mouth as our tongues meet.

“Charlie,” I moan, looping my arms around his neck, both of us poring every ounce of heartache we’ve felt into the kiss until it turns desperate. “I love you.” His hands shake as he loosens his grip and breaks the kiss, pulling away only far enough to rest his forehead on mine. “I love you,” I tell him again, pressing another kiss to his trembling lips. His breath turns ragged and as I tell him I love him one more time, I’m not sure if the moisture on my cheeks is his or mine.

“I…” his voice hitches and he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. I pull back, opening my eyes to find him already watching me with tears running down his face. “Adal, I…” The look he gives me is full of pain, his expression one of sadness and desperation, but also love. Even if he can’t say the words the eyes don’t lie. He may be lost, he may need more time, but he loves me, and he’s never stopped.

“Shh… I know, it’s okay.” Tears of my own fall as I kiss and brush his away but they don’t stop and I gather him into my arms instead. Sliding his arms around my waist, he buries his face in the crook of my neck and begins to sob, clinging to me like I’m the very air he needs to breathe. “It’s okay, Charlie. Everything’s going to be okay.” I reassure him over and over, rubbing his back as the sobs wrack his body.

I don’t know how much time has passed when Charlie finally pulls away and sits forward, sniffling as he drags his forearm across his cheeks. He stares straight ahead, at a window reflecting the room around us then turns to look at me. Our eyes lock and he quickly looks away, picking up his cup of tea and taking three large gulps before setting it back down.

“We should get some sleep,” I tell him, using the cuff of my robe to dry my eyes. He nods silently in response, bending down to take off his shoes as I stand to get the blanket from the chair. Stretching out on his back, he closes his eyes as I cover him. “Charlie… you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Drinking this much… it isn’t you.”

There is no joy in the laugh he huffs out. “I don’t know what ‘me’ means anymore.”

I don’t respond. How can I when I wonder the same thing about myself? I bend down to kiss his cheek and he turns his head at the last second, making my lips press against his. The kiss is chaste, nothing more than a quick peck but my heart flutters none the less. Still not knowing what to say, I place another kiss to his forehead before turning off the lamp and heading to my room, only making it a few feet when I hear him speak.

“We left them behind… all those people.” His voice is quiet in the darkness. I can barely make out his profile from the moonlight shining through the window, laying there with his arm draped across his eyes. “John, the rest of the crew, the families in steerage… men, women, children, people that had families waiting for them… I knew them, Adal, and we left them behind.”

“I know, Charlie.” My throat tightens but my eyes stay dry. I don’t think I have any tears left. “But we lived… we lived.”

His breathing deepens so quickly I wonder if he even heard me, like his confession used the last of his energy and I slip quietly into my room. I take off my robe, sling it over the chair at my desk and turn off the lamp before crawling under the covers. Emotionally and physically exhausted, I begin drifting off to sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow, the feel of Charlies kiss still tingling on my lips.

I wake as the sun hits my face and slowly open my swollen eyes, turning away from the harsh glare coming through the window. I feel as though I hardly slept at all and goodness, I’m thirsty. And hungry, I realize as the scent of bacon hits my nose. Stretching my arms above my head, I let out a deep, satisfying yawn and swing my feet to the floor. I tie my hair back with a ribbon from the nightstand and get up, dreading what is waiting for me on the other side of the door. The couch will be empty, the blanket and pillow stacked neatly on the chair with a note on top; and Hileni in the kitchen, making me breakfast in an attempt to cheer me up while giving me sympathetic looks and asking questions I don’t have the answers to. It’s always the same but I can’t hide in here forever.

Taking a deep breath I walk into the parlor and my eyes automatically look to the couch, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he’d still be there. He isn’t, and neither is the bedding he used last night. Hileni’s large male cat, Earl Grey, aptly named for his color and his love of the beverage is happily slurping up the remains of our tea. He looks up at me with his big blue eyes, tongue running along his mouth to get every last drop. “Shoo,” I scold, waving my hand. He ignores me, dipping his face back into the cup and I step forward to coax him off the table. “Shoo, you beast!”

Hileni’s laughter floats out of the kitchen and I wonder she’s talking to when I hear her say, “You’re doing it all wrong! You’re going to burn it like that!”

Then I hear him laugh, and my heart stops beating.

“If you’ll remember I was the one who put together a picnic for you and your cabinmates, Hileni, I’ve got this.”

“Oh, please,” Hileni snorts. “You didn’t cook any of that. You stole it from the kitchens.”

“Well, that is true,” he laughs again, untroubled and carefree. “But I do know how to cook bacon so let me work.”

I’m dreaming, I must be. Rooted to the spot, I turn to look into my bedroom, convinced I’ll see myself still sleeping but all I see is the bed I have yet to make. I pinch myself. Nothing happens, though I’m not sure what the act is supposed to accomplish either way. Finally convinced I am awake and Charlie is here, butterflies take flight in my stomach. I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart and blink back the happy tears that have sprung in my eyes as I enter the kitchen. “What’s all this?” I ask, taking in the room. Hileni is by the pantry, reaching for something on her tip-toes and Charlie stands at the stove, transferring bacon from a cast iron skillet to a plate, like this is an everyday occurrence.

He turns at the sound of my voice and the smile he gives me lights up the room. “Damn, it was supposed to be breakfast in bed.”

“I told you bacon would get her up.” Rolling her eyes, Hileni sets a jar of maple syrup on the table. “He doesn’t listen that one.”

“I’ll remember it for next time,” Charlie chuckles, adding the plate of bacon to the table. With a gentle hand on my lower back, he pulls out a chair for me. “Sit, Adal, it’ll be ready in just a minute.”

Through narrowed eyes I watch the picture of domesticity taking place around me; Hileni bringing milk and coffee to the table, Charlie taking pancakes out of the oven where they were being kept warm. I pinch myself again, and when Hileni asks what I’m doing I tell her nothing, which only makes her laugh as she sits down and gives me a knowing look.

As happy as I am he stayed, a sliver of doubt remains this side of him won’t last. Reality will set in and he will hold me at arms-length once again. Then our eyes meet across the table and I see the familiar gleam I haven’t seen since the night of Zetta’s birthday party. The night we kissed under the stars before our world was turned upside down and I know what I said last night is true- Everything’s going to be okay.

#storyscape titanic #storyscape titanic fanfic #storyscape titanic fanfiction #charlie x adele #charlie x adal #charlie stoke #adele carrem

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har-rison-s · 5 years

Text

heaven: 3

take it in

request/plot: Stan x Reader where they were together back in Derry and kind of forgot about each other after moving away but they always had a void in their lives. And then when Stan is just about to do it after Mikes call his phone rings and it’s you and you’re crying after just getting off the phone with Mike to come to Derry. You both end up going back and seeing each other at the restaurant and you guys just catch up after all these years that passed and old feelings come back. A/N: Y'all ain't ready for what you're about to read hHEHEHEHEH. Lmao. I had some huge inspo to write this, so thank god for that! Hope you still like this series, and I hope to do you guys and myself justice with this and the following parts. Happy reading! warnings: smut, feelings, 'heavy stuff'.

word count: 1.6k (surprisingly)

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gif credit goes to owner, which is not me!

The Losers Club are a mess, that is certain. Only Y/N and Stanley seem to hold a clear sight and a clear mind out of all eight of them. But, they were just as emotional. And in a panic, too. None of them want to die, they're scared of death, their survival instinct is stronger than ever. As much as they can delay the possibility of them dying, they will do it.

Y/N holds Beverly's shaking shoulders as puffs of smoke surround them both now. Beverly's crying as she tells her friends what kind of fate awaits them all if they don't stop IT now, in this cycle. She claimed to have seen all her friends die horribly, and it scared Y/N and her both. She had forgot these sort-of predicaments until now, and Y/N wondered how scared Beverly must be having these images she saw twenty-seven years ago in her mind again.

There is also a hand on Y/N's shoulder. It belongs to Stanley. A comforting gesture, just like her hands are on Beverly, to give her comfort. But there is a difference in Stanley's hold. There's sort of an electricity in it. One that's bound to be released. And they both know when it's gonna be.

When they look at each other, Y/N having to look from below Stanley due to where she was sitting, they can't seem to look away. Stanley's eyes are magnetic and pulling her towards him. Y/N's are inviting, daring and challenging, almost, challenging him to do what he's afraid to. One of the many things on that list. She's asking him to risk everything. And he wants to say yes.

Stanley's a little sceptical of how Bill looks. The man looks dazed, almost drugged. Stanley looks to Mike and he has got a pleased look on his face. The look of achievement. Stanley realises he's convinced Bill with some hallucinogenics. God, they're truly a mess. What lengths does Mike have to go to convince his scared friends. It seems silly that he has to do what he's done. They're his best friends, after all.

Richie and Eddie are ready to leave any second, but Bill convinces them to stay. With great effort, though, the two are set on leaving this exact second and from Stanley's memories, both men are very stubborn. But since everyone is adamant to stay except for Eddie and Richie, they realised they have to stay, after all. The Losers Club can't stop IT if they're not all together. Richie and Eddie know that well.

Mike goes back to the Library for the night, making a deal with his friends that they'll meet before sunrise of the next day at the Library. All eight will need a normal night of sleep before their journey. Journey back to the past to protect the future. But how can they sleep? How can they be at peace, thinking of what would await them.

Insomnia tortures Richie, so he goes into Eddie's room to see if Eddie's awake, too. He is, and Richie's sudden presence scares him a little. They stay up, talking to each other while they play cards, their voices soft. Sometimes their voices die down, sometimes they get higher and sometimes even louder.

Beverly found solace in being awake by going to Bill. They also stayed awake together, talking from time to time. Mostly about memories of Derry and each other. Some things almost lead to other things, almost. Tension is definitely thick in the air in Bill's room once Beverly came in.

Ben, as always, is alone. He thinks he's always going to be alone, and is now used to it already. He is his own best friend. He's never felt lonely in his life, but when he knows Beverly is in Bill's room, Ben Hanscom feels like the loneliest man in the world. He pulls out the folded page he's kept in his wallet for years, and looks at it. The light from the street lamp shines through the window and onto the page, making it easier for Ben to read what it says, for the hundredth time. He sighs.

The instant Stanley's room door was closed, they were on each other. All over each other, breathing and taking in one another. Remembering how the other felt, what they liked, how to please the other. They're re-discovering each other, how they were together, how they felt in moments of heat.

Y/N and Stanley are tearing at each other's clothes and skins and lips and hair, they're mad together. They're mad to spend every second of the night together, spend the time given to them wisely. Who knows what the sunrise and morning will bring? Who knows what the next day will bring to them? Not one moment must be wasted.

They don't need sleep, they don't need rest. They don't need anything except each other. And the high they got off the other. The pair could do with only that to survive the rest of their lives.

Y/N can't remember Stanley ever being so bold, so brutal in making love. Sure, they'd done it a few times until he had to leave after high school. But no time was ever as vile and as desperate as this. And she loved it. There were no words, no questions, no hesitation. There was only missed-out love and desperation.

The pair hadn't even undressed completely when Stanley entered Y/N with his cock full of desire. Her head fell against the poor thin hotel door and she screamed. Stanley grunted and tilted her head back in its previous place. So she'd be facing him.

Stanley kept his eyes locked on Y/N while he thrusted into her and she whined and moaned, as well as he kept his hands on her hips. Her hands were taking turns roaming and squeezing his back and the back of his neck, and she tried her best to keep their eye contact. But it was hard. And, damn, Stanley was so hard. Y/N felt like she would die then and there from it, even without going back to Neibolt.

It would be hard not to hear them screwing like complete animals if you were standing at the hotel's entrance. Ben was sure Y/N and Stanley could be heard all over town. Eddie and Richie used the hotel-given ear plugs - with their disadvantages -, and Bill and Beverly decided they should split and spend the rest of the time remaining in their own separate rooms.

But when Y/N and Stanley reached their orgasms, my God, what their friends heard before wasn't even close to being as loud as that was. They had never imagined that Stanley and Y/N, the most shy people from them eight, would be this loud during sex. But Beverly guessed there wasn't just pleasure in those screams. There was terror and desperation, there was hope and praying to a higher power. And she had guessed right.

Y/N stayed held against the door by Stanley. They needed a little while to regain themselves, their breaths, their ever-so-clear minds. Well, their minds were hazy with a thick fog, and would be for a while, and there was no escaping it. An amnesia-like fog that made them ignorant to everything else except the other and the other's touch, and their love. It was love, both of them were sure. It had returned, and it's stronger than ever.

Stanley, now with a bit of a clearer mind, pulled Y/N against his chest and carried her to the hotel bed. He undressed her slowly, completely, and kissed every aching and non-aching part of her skin tenderly. And it made Y/N cry.

She was crying because she now felt what she had missed all her life. Who she had missed, and what he would have given her if they had never separated. What they could have had together, what they could have felt together. How their lives would be much, much better if only they had never parted.

Each kiss he gave her was worth two tears from her. And when Stanley realised she wasn't in fact moaning or whimpering, but that she was crying, he kissed her tears, which meant kissing her cheeks, her lips, her neck, her hair. And he kissed every part. Which only made her cry more.

She cried about the time they had missed, the opportunities left unused, the kisses given to strangers. Everything they could have had.

Stanley held her and, as they both lay there, now completely bare and exposed to the cold, horrible hotel air that reeked of sterilisation, looked in her eyes. He softly pet her hair and held the hand of hers that lay between them on the bed with his other hand. And they kept their eye contact strong, they were sure they didn't blink once.

Even as teenagers, they could stare into each other's eyes for hours without getting bored or getting distracted. They could do nothing else but that. Not many people can. But it was one of their… things. And it was still strong now, almost three decades later.

The moon and the street lamps shone onto the two lovers in the hotel room, to someone's eyes they'd look like a perfect painting in this light. These two lovers in a perfectly-made bed that was hardly touched. They were surrounded by the smell fo sex, the sound of sobs, the glistening of tears and sweat. By the words they want to say to each other, the longing and what-ifs that they want to voice. But they don't want to ruin this perfect moment, and the next, and the next. Y/N and Stanley want to cherish this complete silence and calm, before the storm hits them and hits this perfect atmosphere.

Permanent taglist: @gabiatthedisco @v0idbella @inlovewithmiddleagedcelebs @works-of-fanfiction @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @stfxlou @ur-gunna-h8-ths @empressdreams @betweenloveandfire @but-legendsneverdie @deardeacy @thewinchesterchronicles @mavieesttriste16 @mrsmazzello @benhardyseyes @langdonzvoid @intrrverted @the-freak-cassie-131 @sunshine-stan-uris @radiantrichie

Stanley Uris tag-list: @nightbu-g @sadhwstudent @shawni-h @gothackedalready @seasidecrowbar @starred-river @raspberryacid @facelessbish @tozierskaspb @plum-duels @whereyoustand

@happy-at-home @kaspbrak-uris

If you'd like to be in one of these lists, please let me know!

#stan uris x reader #stan uris imagine #stan uris imagines #stanley uris x reader #stanley uris imagine #stanley uris imagines #adult!stan uris imagine #adult!stanley uris imagine #adult!stan uris x imagine #adult!stanley uris x reader #adult!stanley uris request #adult!stanley uris smut #adult!stanley uris smut imagine #har-rison-s writes #har-rison-s writings #har-rison-s work #har-rison-s series #heaven series #heaven part three

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johnnysnostril · 4 years

Text

Without You

chapter sixteen

**present day**

ivy’s pov

playing with my fingers as i sat in front of mark, i placed my hands in my lap.

“i can tell that something is bothering you.” he voiced.

i slightly sighed and bit my bottom lip.

i couldn’t just come out and say it. i was too scared.

i didn't want to break anyone's heart. but i didn’t want mine to be broken either.

i was stuck. between two men. two great men.

mark reached down to hold my hands and squeezed them tightly.

“just say it.” he whispered.

i looked up at him, with sadness in my eyes.

“i’ve never been in this type of situation before.” i whispered back. “i never thought that i would actually like someone this much.”

he smiled, thinking it was him.

but it was johnny.

i gazed down at his busted lip.

“what happened?” i questioned him. “tell me the truth. i know johnny didn’t do that to you.”

running my thumb across his bottom lip, i felt the roughness of his scab. mark tilted his head a bit, glancing down at my lips too- before closing his eyes.

“at the party..” he started. “i got really drunk. there was this guy there, who kept taking shit.”

i furrowed my brows.

“what was he saying?”

mark shook his head.

“that doesn’t matter, ivy.” he released my hands, running his palms down his face.

“he was getting ready to leave and i followed him- we fought in the front of the house and that’s it.”

i thought for a minute.

“why did you fight him, mark?”

he was becoming frustrated with my prying.

“because, i have all this built up anger. i just needed to release it. i have anger issues.” he groaned in an honest tone.

my stomach was turning in knots. i never thought that he would be the one with the anger problem.

“is that why you and johnny...”

“yes.” he interrupted. “he’s always so hostile with me. that night, i seen an outlet and i took it.”

my chest was starting to become heavy.

“so you only fought him because you were just angry? not because of how you felt about me?”

he immediately shook his head, snaking his hand to the back of my neck.

‘that’s not what i meant.” he whispered as he nudged his nose against mine.

“i’m very attracted to you- but that night, i was just angry. look for a fight with anyone who would accept the invitation. and he bought into my anger.”

mark leaned in for a kiss, but i turned away.

his expression on his face changed.

“you're lying.” i said standing up.

he didn’t like me. he just wanted me because johnny wanted me. he wanted to make johnny upset, just by being around me.

“you used me for an anger outlet.” i said hugging myself.

mark furrowed his brows and stood up with me.

“that’s not what happened at all, ivy. don’t do that.”

reaching for my hand, he started to come closer to me.

i held out my arm, keeping my distance as i walked backwards towards the door.

i felt slightly numb. like this was the first time that my heart had ever been broken.

it wasn't, but that’s not the point.

“please. just stay away from me.” i whispered as i walked out the door.

jaehyun’s pov

after practice, i decided to go to the basketball court. just to think a little.

as i dribbled the ball through my legs, the only thing that kept running through my mind was alonna’s picture.

she must've sent it to him. there was no other way that he would have got that picture.

but, why would she do it? after everything he put her through. maybe she really did still love him.

taking my frustration out on the court, i did a few layups before i noticed my phone going off.

i tilted my head as i approached the bench.

alonna was calling.

i hesitated to answer the phone.

*ring. ring ring.*

it kept ringing and all i could do was stare at the screen.

her caller ID was a picture of us, smiling like we were happy, at least, i thought we were.

the call ended, popping up with a missed called.

i sighed, taking a seat on the bench and closing my eyes.

the phone rang again.

this time, i answered.

“jae!” i heard her yelp through the other end.

“why are you ignoring me?” she cried.

“i’m not ignoring you, alonna. i’m at the park- trying to play basketball.” i said softly.

“i’ve called you 10 times already.. i need to see you. which park are you at?” she asked.

“can we please just wait until tomorrow..” i leaned my head back, looking up at the moon.

“this cant wait. please, jae... if you love me, you’ll hear my side..” alonna pleaded.

i hated the tone of her voice when she did that. made me feel so terrible.

i exhaled loudly, shaking my head.

“sunridge park..” i finally announced.

alonna quickly hung the phone.

alonna’s pov

hopping out of the uber, i thanked the driver- running over to the basketball court.

coming over the hill, i seen jae by himself- throwing the ball inside the hoop.

i was nervous about this conversation.

i just needed to know what was said.

“jae..” i called out for him as i approached the court.

he ignored me, picking up the ball as it bounce on the black asphalt.

i folded my arms around my chest, stepping onto the court and under the lamp-post.

“can you stop ignoring me please...” i whined as i made my way over to the large pole that held up the hoop.

jae slightly lifted himself off the ground, making the jump shot.

i quickly caught the ball before it made it to the ground.

he looked over at me, breathing heavily.

he stared at me for a moment before making his way over to me, reaching his hand out for the ball.

i slipped the ball behind my back, hiding it from him.

“not until you talk to me.” i whispered.

i was fighting back tears as he stared down at me.

“what do you want me to say?” he finally spoke.

“i know you spoke to tae.. what happened?” i asked.

jaehyun rolled his eyes and reached for the ball again.

i smacked my lips, throwing the stupid basketball to the other side of the court.

“fucking tell me what happened! what did he say to you, to make you mad at me?!” i yelled.

his face was calm. he didn't move a muscle.

“i think that’s the first time you’ve yelled at me like that.” his tone was deep and raspy. almost like he was about to cry.

“communicate like the grown man that you claim to be.” i shouting, pushing his chest back.

shutting his eyes, he stepped back a little- losing his balance.

jaehyun’s pov

i glued my eyes down to the floor. i wasn’t too sure on how to express these emotions. this was our first serious fight and i was terrified of the outcome.

i nodded my head.

“alright. let’s communicate then.” i started. “how did he get it..”

“get what?” she asked in a confused tone.

my anger was starting to boil in my throat. and seconds later, i found myself spilling over.

“how the fuck did he get the picture, alonna?” i shouted, breathing a little heavy.

alonna didn’t flinch at all. she stood in front of me with her arms crossed.

“i have no idea what you’re talking about jaehyun.”

i breathed a laugh, waving her off and walking to the bench.

“stop playing dumb with me. you know what the hell im talking about.”

i was starting to see black. my eyes were clouded with frustration. i knew she was lying to me.

as i sat down, lowering my head- i cupped the back of my neck.

alonna slowly made her way over to me, kneeling down in front of me.

“babe, i honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

her attitude switched once she noticed that i meant business.

i wasn't going to play this game with her.

i shut my eyes, trying to calm myself down.

alonna placed both hands on my thighs, tilting her head to meet eyes with me.

“i don’t know what he told you- but i haven’t spoke to him since the night of johnny’s party.” she admitted. “i told you what he said to me in the pool house. he said, from his own mouth, that he hurt me on purpose. why would i need to speak to him after that, jae?”

cupping my chin, she lifted my head.

“i would never do anything to hurt you. he’s just trying to get in your head.” she whispered.

“he has the picture that you sent me..” i voiced hoarsely.

alonna chuckled then sat on the ground with her hands in her lap.

“i can’t believe he would go this far...just to hurt me.” she mumbled.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

she sighed and ran her fingers through her long hair.

“he has access to my icloud. he must have signed in with my password and went through my shit..” she admitted.

i shook my head, clasping my hands together.

“why does he have access to your icloud, alonna?”

she looked up at me with tears in her eyes.

“because, he wanted to make sure that i wasn’t seeing someone else, while i was with him..”

as she looked off to the side, a tear ran down her face.

now, i was starting to feel stupid.

“he sees that someone actually cares about me, and he just wants to ruin it all..”

alonna shut her eyes and hugged herself.

swallowing my pride, i fell to my knees- wrapping my arms around her.

“i should have just listened to johnny.. i’m so fucking sorry, babe.”

she quickly wrapped her arms around my neck and hugged back.

she softly laughed in my ear and shook her head.

“johnny? what did he say?”

placing small kisses on her neck, i mumbled against her skin.

“that you would never do anything like that, and that i was stupid for even thinking it was true.”

she pulled back, looking up at me- with sad eyes.

“he really said that...?” she questioned.

i nodded.

“now i feel bad for being mean to him.. he was on my side..”

johnny’s pov

i tossed the blanket from over my head and furrowed my brows.

“who the hell is it?” i groaned as the knock on the door continued.

no answer.

“i swear to god if its the cleaning people...” i mumbled. “the do not disturb sign is on the door!”

throwing my feet into my house slippers, i looked over at the clock.

“it’s 2am!” i shouted.

i rubbed my bare stomach, dragging myself down the stairs.

my pajama pants just barely clung to my hips, but honestly, i didn’t care. like i said, it was 2am. whoever was at this door was about to get a mouth full.

rolling my eyes, i swung back the door.

“what the hell do you-... ivy?” i said blinking quickly.

this had to be a dream. ivy was not standing in front of me.

rubbing my eyes, i blinked a few more times.

she was still in my doorway, dressed in an oversized hoodie and leggings.

“i’m sorry.. i didn’t even think you were going to be here- let alone be sleeping..”

i messily ruffled my hair, trying to fix it.

“i’m sorry..” she repeated, waving her hands in front of herself.

backing away from the door, she began to walk away.

i shook my head, stepping out of the doorway and reaching for her hand.

“don’t.” i whispered. “please, come in.”

i took her hand, pulling her inside the room and shut the door behind her.

she awkwardly stood in front of me, pulling her sleeves over her hands.

“would you like something to drink?” i asked, pointing towards the kitchen as i walked in that direction.

ivy shook her head and bit her bottom lip.

swallowing hard, i pushed down my emotions.

all i really wanted to do, was pick her up and kiss her.

i was excited that she was here. did that mean that she accepted my apology?

ivy followed behind me, sitting herself down in one of the chairs.

i laughed as she ran her sleeve against the counter in front of her.

“you might wanna get up.”

ivy slightly smiled. “why?” she answered back in a soft tone.

“your sister and jae had sex on that chair.” i said popping open a redbull.

ivy pretended to vomit as she stood up, quickly.

i shook my head and leaned against the fridge.

she frantically wiped off her butt and groaned.

“so gross.” she mumbled.

i stared at her for a moment, taking her features in.

she looked back at me, biting her lip once again.

the room filled with silence.

there was so much tension in the air, i felt like she was feeling exactly what i was feeling.

“why are you here, ivy?” i said cutting to the chase.

she shrugged her shoulder and sighed.

“i was trying to figure out a way to apologize to you- without looking stupid.” she laughed.

i watched as she walked closer to me, standing on the other side of the counter.

��i went to see mark.” she started. “on the way there, i was practice for how i was going to tell him, that i just couldn’t-” ivy glanced down at her feet.

“well, whatever you wanna call it.. i couldn’t do it anymore.”

i could tell she was slightly panicking, from her body language.

“because, after you left from the restaurant.. i couldn't stop thinking about you.” she mumbled quietly.

i smiled at her words. i knew this was taking a lot out of her to admit to the way she was feeling.

“then after, i talked to alonna about everything. she really made things- more clear, if you will.”

ivy shut her eyes, lowering her head.

i gently set my can on the counter, licking my lips and moving in front of her.

“i guess, all im trying to say is that..” she lifted her head, opening her eyes.

inhaling sharply, she placed her palms on the counter behind her, to lean back a little.

i slowly snaked my arms around her waist, pulling her against my chest.

“you’re saying that you want me?” i grinned.

ivy’s eyes were screaming of lust. i watched as her chest began to quickly rise and fall.

“i wanna hear you say it.” i whispered.

lowering my head to her neck, i breathed against her skin.

she smelled so good.

moving her hands around me, she clutched at the waistband of my pants, tilting her head to give more access to her neck.

placing soft kisses against her neck, i felt her body shiver.

her breathing hitched in her throat as i gently sank my teeth into skin.

“tell me that you want me, just as bad as i want you- ivy.” i groaned.

as she ran her hands up my back, she sank her fingernails into my skin.

“i want you, johnny.” she breathed.

#Johnny Fanfic #johnny suh #johnny nct fanfic #nct johnny #nct scenarios #nct fanfic #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct 127 #nct mark #nct jaehyun

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sheusedtobesassier · 4 years

Text

Day 10,330

Home alone for the first time in I think three weeks?? And by home I mean Allynda’s home. Lights off almost everywhere. Moon lamp, Scentsy dark crystal, candle, streetlight, three more candles, and the lowest lighting of the touch lamp. The Ballad of Love and Hate playing. Just got out of a hot hot bath during which I decided I feel capable of writing out the love story, well at minimum the beginning of it. I would call the start the best part, but I hesitate to say so. Intimacy was the best. Before that was just the delicious anticipation of that. Yeah so I realized I want to write about it tonight which was the smallest gasp of relief. I know there was a time when I couldn’t fathom remembering the sweetness. Begged for protection from those memories actually. And truthfully, I think that prayer was heard and answered. Sure they suddenly come for me sometimes, but they’re almost always quick and painless, like a shiver. Like a muscle memory. Phantom. Hm, hm.

“You’re still all over me like a wine stained dress I can’t wear anymore.”

We knew each other back when we were kids. To be specific, he was definitely a kid and I was in high school haha. (I believe he’s four years younger than me.) We were goof around pals that saw each other occasionally when our churches got together for Christianese functions. It wasn’t a close friendship, but me and my friends were very fond of him and his best friend. I left home in 2010 and probably interacted with him online once or twice throughout the next seven years of wandering on my own. I wasn’t keeping tabs.

November 2017. His best friend ended up falling head over heels in love with an old friend of mine. They had a sweet little “café con leche” wedding ceremony. There were a whole pile of people I knew at the reception and we filled up a long table. I noticed two friends seemed to be checking somebody out and when I curiously turned to follow their eyes, there was Omar. And uh, haha, he was definitely no longer a kid. Broad shoulders and the longest curls. I noted that he was nervously glancing around the room, probably looking for someone he knew. (I found out later it was an uncomfortable wedding for him.) Without a second thought, I stood up and excited rushed over to him. It was a short conversation, an exchange of pleasantries. What he’d been up to and what I’d been doing. He told me he was a vagabond and I told him I’d just been assigned the role of Staff Director at Sky Lodge. I mentioned that if he didn’t have anything going on in the summer he should come up and work. He said it’s something he had considered before and gave me a maybe. I don’t believe I saw him again the rest of the night.

Fast forward to the spring hiring season. For a few months, week after week, day after day, I was trying to round up summer staff, particularly a strong adult leadership team. I was interacting with maybe 100 college kids throughout this process with the goal of getting around 12 of them to commit to a full summer at camp. It is a grueling process. That spring specifically I felt like I was being forced to relentlessly coerce others to apply for a ministry they seemed to have Absolutely Zero Interest in. The applicants I did have were concerning to me as far as trustworthiness. I knew I wasn’t doing a great job and that knowing made it hard to do even a good job. Once May came around I had no fight left in me. And then I got weird messages from Omar. He had said early on that he wasn’t available, but whatever he had lined up fell through so he was wondering if there were still spots. I sent him the info and he said he’d apply that evening. A couple days later nothing had come through from him so I messaged him to see what was up. He had read the application and was no longer interested. I had a gut feeling and asked, “Is it because you don’t think you want to work for us or because you think you won’t get hired?” He told me it was a little of both and felt like parts of the application process were intrusive. Which, lol, he wasn’t wrong. I was thrilled. Asked if he’d be willing to fill it out and then have a longer discussion with me about his misgivings. He said he would. I remember calling my sister after I read what he submitted and giddy announcing, “HE’S A REAL LIFE PERSON.” He hadn’t given religious robot answers. He’d been forthright and controversial. He would bring something So Different than everybody else I was hiring AND THAT POSSIBILITY WAS DEEPLY INTRIGUING TO ME. I scheduled his interview, knowing I’d be deciding if we were going to hire him BUT ALSO he would be deciding if he wanted to come. I told him he should take a few days to really really think it through, talk it over with people he trusted, and genuinely pray about it. I started asking God to work it out if it was supposed to.

Okay. A little pause because I’m about to write about a part that I want to make sure comes off as how it actually was. First, I want to be clear that I was 0% attracted to this person at this stage. We were both grown, but he was still a kid to me. A long ago friend who I’d lost touch with. I was in boss mode, desperate to have admirable leaders I could count on for the summer (which was only a week away). Second, there was a specific season of my life where I considered myself very in tune with the Holy Spirit. I communicated with Her consistently and believed I heard from Her pretty often. That may sound kooky to you, but it doesn’t change what I believed then haha. This story I’m telling occurred like, five years after that Era of Very In Tune. Which I feel the need to say because like, interacting with the Holy Spirit still happens in my life, but rarely. I’m not seeking it out as frequently and hardly ever get anything straight from Her. Lol, if this weirds you out, no worries it weirds me out too. Okay so. With those said.

The morning before his phone interview, I was driving around a riding mower praying about the conversation we were going to have. I was concerned that he wasn’t going to choose us, worried about how I might screw up a good thing. I big time wanted to know that he’d be good for camp AND that camp would be good for him. Honestly I probably wanted the second one even more. I was stressing about it to God. And like. I wouldn’t write this except that it’s true. I out of the blue just experienced 100% reassurance that Omar would be at Sky Lodge for the summer. Right there, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was was going to say yes. And like, I knew it was from the Holy Spirit. That familiar Her. Burst into tears because like I said, I wasn’t hearing from Her as much as I used to. So to suddenly experience that rush?? I wept happy tears. When I came in for lunch I told Jeremy we could start putting Omar’s name on all the official lists. He was like, “But you haven’t done the interview yet? And didn’t you say he might not even want to be here?” And I was like, “Look. I know he’s gonna say yes. I can’t explain how, but put him on the lists.” Then I went out in the sun and called him up. We talked through several complicated things. It was an articulate conversation between two people who respected each other. (It is very weird to think about how much I low key instantly trusted Omar.) And lol. The end of the conversation was me big smile saying, “So uh, everybody else is getting here on Thursday to get moved in and settled by 5 o’clock. So.” and then he was big smile basically like, “Okay. Yeah. Well. Huh. Yeah I’ll be there.”

And sure enough he was. Well kind of. He showed up late. Everybody else was going through the line for dinner when he called me to say he was here but not sure where to go. I ran out of the dining room and saw his black car pull in. Showed him to park down by Maple. Noticed the John Mayer poster rolled up in his back window so we chatted about our mutual fondness for him on the quick stroll to the Lodge. I remember as dinner was finishing up the Foremen were starting to gather. I was staying on the edge, interested to see the beginnings of all their dynamics. Noticed Omar keeping his distance, but not in an uncomfortable way? Like, he definitely wasn’t exuberant, but he wasn’t closed off either. He was wearing the DAYDREAMER hoodie. He couldn’t hold still? I decided I didn’t need to worry about him and hoped he would pick buddies soon.

Foreman Training. Okay. He was definitely the most interesting person in the room. I mean, besides me of course. He was laid back and whenever he spoke up it was good for everybody. He kept giving out nicknames. Playful. Oh lol, when we’d take breaks, he and Elicia had a game of pool going on which was great because it gave the other girls the chance to watch him flirt. He was noticeably special. I was glad I hired him, because he consistently brought the group’s average up. And we got along well. One night after training had wrapped up the two of us got into a chat about the Kardashians, which lead to Kanye, which lead to President Trump, which lead to talking about Omar being brown. On my walk to my home, I txted him apologizing for maybe expressing too much and not asking enough questions. He told me not to worry and thanked me for the conversation. THERE WERE NO BUTTERFLIES YET. This was my first shot at being a true blue leader and I wasn’t taking that lightly. Being good for everybody working for me was my obsession.

Foreman Campout. Okay. Several things happened here that I want to note.

1. We had a mega controversial meeting about cell phones, during which I suggested we make an official policy that Foremen would leave their phones up in my office unless they needed them for something. It was a kick I was on mostly. A very firm belief that the less the Foremen were on their phones the higher quality their summer would be. There was immediate pushback. I was fending off tiny arguments. Suddenly Omar gave this rallying speech of like, “Come on guys. What the heck? Why are we being babies about this? This could be a really good thing for us!” And that settled it. He had power.

2. The morning after it rained there was a little pack of us huddled up in the gazebo talking about what the storm had been like for us. I asked if anybody had a pen I could borrow and Omar ran to get me one from his backpack. I journaled something like, “Last night I tried to imagine somebody to fall asleep with and couldn’t think of anyone. It’s nice to not be even a little in love with anybody.” AND I MEANT THAT. THERE WERE NO VIBES YET.

3. We all went tubing together and slowly but surely got split up into tinier squads. I was with Marissa and Omar, which was the ideal scenario for me. A lot of stupidity and laughter. Goofballs. There was definitely a point where I was wondering if there was chemistry between them. They drifted further ahead than me towards the end and I thought, “Interesting. We’ll see how that unfolds.” Once everybody was back on land I heard a bit of, “Ooh did you see Omar and Marissa?” It wasn’t a match in my head, but I didn’t think that hard about it.

4. The drive back to Sky Lodge, haha. Omar and I were both on the first bench. Him in the middle and me next to the sliding door. Jeremy was driving and Chris was shotgun so the four of us were chatting away. We passed some fields getting irrigated and I made some offhand comment about the Farmers’ Almanac. Omar suddenly turned to me and was like, “What do you know about that?” I tried to defend myself and he was like, “This sounds like you’re just making stuff up.” WHICH. EXCUSE ME. I WAS NOT. I couldn’t believe it. Him just challenging me right to my face. I was surprised and super secretly thrilled. Do you want me to explain that? Like, I didn’t feel dismissed by it. It was like he wasn’t allowing me to sound stupid and get away with it. Like. More was expected of me? He wasn’t gonna let me be high and mighty as his boss. And that like. Lol. It bothered me, but in a good way.

5. Okay this one was his story that he told me later. Both of us were claiming that there wasn’t any attraction happening yet at the campout, but then he was like “Oh hold up.” He said that on that drive back, most of us in the van were slowly falling asleep. I dozed off and was sort of precariously placed, like there was potential my head might land on his shoulder or my knee would drift into his. He said I woke up a little, noted the situation, and arranged myself as far from him as I could. He said he thought, “Why is she being like that?” And then he thought, “Wait actually why is it bothering me that she’s being like that???” Lol.

6. We got back and dropped everybody off at the staff dorm with announcements for the next day. Edith, my right hand woman, had evening rounds so the two of us did a super quick debrief of the trip standing outside my front door. I mostly remember making the statement that we had to look out for Omar because a lot of the girls seemed interested in him. It meant in a few weeks either they would all turn on each other OR all turn on him. Edith laughed and was like, “Well soon him and Elicia are gonna make out. Then nobody else will want him.” We giggled and I was like, “I just don’t want everybody to decide he’s a flirt when he’s actually just comfortable around women.” And like, haha. I WRITE THIS AS PROOF THAT I DIDN’T SEE IT COMING.

Alright so. Lol. Mm, mm. I’m gonna let me hit a hard pause for the night because I’m losing steam. Will come back to this though and soon. It’s a time in my life where I do have the space to get it out and I think I’d like to. Idk if it’ll be healing or useful. I’m not worrying about damage and maybe I should? But. Look. I fell in love with a good one who fell in love with me too. And. I’m not choosing to take my hands off it yet. Still pulled in. Fixated. I keep being afraid that I’m coming off embarrassingly obsessed, panicked that I’m weak and messy. But. Lol. I actually don’t feel like those things at fucking all. I do feel like someone became part of my life and with him I grew in gorgeous ways that I kept wanting to grow in and then I lost that person and now I am having a hard time figuring out some other gorgeous ways I can grow now. And like. I cannot have more of Omar or more from him. Not right now I can’t. But that doesn’t change that I already have a lot of what he did give me. And it’s really mine and I’m not required to like, demolish it to smithereens in order to qualify for moving on.

#personal

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