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builtbybrokenbells · 1 year

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It’s Never Over

A blowout resulting in an untimely breakup between y/n and her long term boyfriend leaves both of them broken. A year and a half later, after nothing but radio silence and unrequited love, they find themselves face to face once more. Both grown up, living completely different lives, but still hurting over mistakes their younger selves made, and still hopelessly head over heels for each other. They find themselves caught up in the struggle of choice; to allow history to repeat itself, or let the memory of their past fade away into nothing.

listen while reading: lover, you should’ve come over - Jeff Buckley

Pairing: josh kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 17.7k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, sweet soft makeup sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering, praise, pet names, body worshiping ig if you squint, breakups/breakup talk, angst (with a happy ending 😁), mentions of drugs, drinking, sad josh (needs a warning of its own), crying, some yelling, sweetness, tooth rotting fluff, sorry if I miss any!!!

so somebody requested some josh angst and i just couldn’t help myself 🤭 a very happy ending, pinky promise. you guys know me well enough to know I’m a slut for happy endings. also sorry it turned out so long, i HAVE to stop it with the literal novels. i just got super attached to the characters and got carried away (what else is new). i also wrote this mostly in one sitting so I had to trim a lot and add things here and there, but i hope this is satisfactory!! also not fantastically edited, cause I’m super lazy 🫣 as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!!

The silk of your dress clung to your skin, the slit in the leg just promiscuous enough to catch eyes, but not enough to be uncomfortably exposed. The deep emerald green was elegant, a fantastic choice on your part. Your hair hung loosely over your shoulders, the scent of your perfume radiating around you. You were dressed to the nines, much like the other women pooling into the lobby of the five-star hotel. Even so, you had never felt more out of place. As you anxiously awaited the progression to the main event, you couldn’t help but check over your shoulders every few minutes. You were hoping to catch sight of any familiar faces before they saw you, in hopes of a head start to hide away. You straightened your hair out and fixed the straps of your dress, trying to pass a few more minutes without focusing on your nervousness.

It was your first time back in Nashville after a year and a half of avoiding it. You’d moved to New York some time ago and hadn’t looked back since. Your hometown was greatly missed, but for no reasons that were obvious. You didn’t miss your family; you shared phone calls and texts, which was perfectly fine for you. They’d always been a bit hard on the head, raving about appearance and sophistication rather than fun and happiness, so the distance wasn’t terribly troublesome. Your siblings were scattered across the world, anyway, so the change in location really had no effect on the relationships you previously had with them. The town itself wasn’t troublesome to leave behind, either. You had gotten your fill of it in your first twenty-some years of life, and it was quite refreshing to get out into the world and see something new.

What you did miss, though, was the boy you left behind. Although, it wasn’t a choice to leave him; he’d made that decision for you, and without a hesitation, too. You never expected him to come with you while you followed your dream. It would be selfish to expect him to leave everything behind to chase you around the world. But, you did hope that there was a part of him that wanted to make it work despite the distance, like you’d done for him countless times. When you told him you had to go, that the move was something you desperately needed, all of the love he ever had for you seemed to disappear. He turned cold and distant, and ended things without a second thought.

“Please, Josh, just listen to me for one minute!” You begged, tears forming in your eyes. His usually joyous face was nothing short of indifferent towards you, now.

“I don’t have anything to talk about with you, y/n.” The words were equal to a stab to the chest. His eyes were looking anywhere but you, secretly afraid he’d break down and tell you everything he was holding back.

“You’re going to throw the last three years out the window over this? Without a compromise, or a conversation, or anything at all?” There was a few feet of space between you, both scared of breaking the invisible boundary.

“You’re leaving! You pack up all of your shit and move in with me, just to tell me a few months later that you’re moving across the country? You’ve known for a while, and you’re just telling me now?” He finally broke, the pain in his eyes clearer than anything you’d ever seen. The accusatory tone was infuriating, as if he was sentencing you with a crime you hadn’t committed.

“I haven’t known for a while, Josh. I just got the email today! I applied thinking there was no way in hell I would ever hear back, but I did, and I have to go. This is my dream, you know that. It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted.” You pleaded for him to see reason.

“The only thing, huh?” You could tell the statement landed wrong, feeling guilty for even making him think that was what you meant. “I tell you all of the time you can come work with us, design for us; we’d be more than happy to have you there.”

“I can’t do that! I can’t always be in the background of your fame. I can’t backpack off of your success, live in the shadows of my boyfriend forever. I need to make a name for myself, to prove to everyone that I can do it on my own, without any handouts.” You explained. He nodded, barely responding to anything you had to say about it.

“That’s fine, y/n. Go, live your dream. I’m not stopping you.” He sounded defeated, like he was giving up.

“What about us?” You whispered, your voice hoarse from the hours of back-and-fourth yelling.

“Clearly you weren’t thinking about me when you made the decision, so why are you worried about it, now?” Your heart broke, the tears you were holding back finally falling down your cheeks. “You can go, but I’m not going to wait for you to come back.” Silence hung thick in the air, and for the first time in your long history, it was uncomfortable.

“So that’s it?” You snapped. “I can sit at home while you travel the world, wait for you to come home, not know if you’re sleeping with the millions of girls that throw themselves at you? That’s fine? But the minute I want to get out of here, escape the shitty 9-5 lifestyle and do something for myself, I’m the bad guy? I’m not asking you to drop everything and come with me, I’m just asking you to love me enough to support me while I do it!” You could see regret flash in his eyes, both of your emotions running high and clouding your judgement. When he remained silent, you got more than enough of an answer. “Okay,” you let out a small, humourless laugh. “I’ll get my shit, then. If this is how you want to go about it, fine by me. You’ll never have to see me again.” You turned towards the hallway, preparing yourself to pack up your entire life.

“Y/n,” he said, stopping you for a moment. “Just stay, please.” You could hear tears in his voice, too.

“So I can sit around and wait for you for the rest of my life?” Your voice cracked, effortlessly showing him all of the emotion you were trying not to let out. “I can’t put everything on pause because you don’t want me to go, Josh. I might never get a chance like this ever again. I don’t want to leave you, but this is my life. My dream.”

“I’m supposed to be a part of your life, too.”

“Not if you make me choose.”

“So you’ve already made up your mind?” The accusation fuelled a fire in you.

“I was hoping to have both, but I guess we can’t have everything we want.” He let out a long exhale.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He grumbled. “You’re leaving to chase after a possibility, y/n. You’re gonna move out there with no real offer lined up? You could get out there and end up at another shitty office job. Alone, away from everything you know. I’m here. I love you, and I’m certain about that.” Your stomach sank at his words, filled with dread knowing that he didn’t believe in you.

“You may be, but I’m not.” You scoffed. “If you love me, you’d support me. You know how bad I want this. You’re not being fair.” You waited for a moment, hoping he’d say something else. When you were met with another staggering silence, you stumbled away from him with your heart in your stomach and your head in your hands. You left your house key on the bed before walking away forever.

That was the last time you spoke to him. A few days after that, you got on a plane to New York and spent months trying to rid yourself of his memory. Now, over a year later, every essence of your being was still plagued with Josh Kiszka. You never got over him, you never moved on, and you never stopped thinking of him. He was the love of your life; the type of love that overshadowed any other emotion you could ever experience. Sure, you hated him, too, and a part of you hoped you’d never see him again, but there was a bigger part of you that longed for one more hug, or even just another smile. He was one of a kind, and nobody held a candle to him. He never texted, he never called, or even so much as liked a social media post. Sometimes, you wondered if you’d spend the rest of your life yearning for someone who barely remembered you existed.

As much as you still loved him, the hurt you held in your chest was debilitating. He let you walk out the door, no hint of hesitation. It killed you, because you’d spent years cheering him and his brothers on while they lived their dream, but he wasn’t willing to reciprocate for you. You hoped he would change his mind, but the only thing you’d received in your year away was radio silence. There was no solid proof that you ever existed to him aside from memory, and that’s what hurt you the most. You watched his life through pictures, his face gracing your phone screen with new press releases and album announcements, sending you spiralling down the Kiszka rabbit hole even further. You listened to their music every now and then, even watched a few interviews, just to remind yourself of what his voice sounded like. You were well aware that their new album was bound to release within the next few months. It served as another reminder of how great his life was going without you in it.

You hadn’t done too bad for yourself, either. The move to New York stemmed from a submission to be considered for a spot in New York Fashion Week. You’d applied as a model for the event, with slim expectations for a response. When they responded to your headshots, it kickstarted the fire in you to follow your passion. Once you arrived, you modelled and found that taste of life you’d been longing for so badly. You had the opportunity to meet big names you had been dreaming of meeting your whole life, and somehow even managed to pick up a mentor to help you achieve your biggest dream: design. After a few months of solely shadowing her, then a year of sleepless nights and some blood, sweat, and tears, you were finally set to release your own line of designer clothing. Of course, it was partnered with your mentor company, but it still adorned your name.

Most of your presale items were already sold out, giving you an overwhelming sense of pride. Big celebrities were in line to own your clothing, eager enough to buy it that they were ordering months ahead. As much as it hurt leaving everything behind when you moved to New York, your life was more than you ever could have imagined it, now. Still, with all of the financial success, a part of you still felt like it was missing. Somewhere amidst all of the fame, you realized that you may have given up a bit too much to get where you were. You tried not to focus on it, knowing that dwelling on the past would only limit you from the future. If Josh Kiszka was meant to be yours, he would be. If not, life would go on. You had to understand that, because if you believed anything else, you were sure it would kill you.

The crowd began to filter away in front of you, letting you know the doors to the event were opening. The cameras outside were still flashing, meaning guests were still arriving. You were thankful you had a room booked upstairs so you could avoid the paparazzi. As much as you loved your work, the galas and celebrations could be a bit much by times. You almost preferred the quietness of the design room over the runway, now. At first, the pictures and cheers and magazine covers were a thrill. They’d begun to lose their novelty almost as soon as it started, just the same as the parties. When your boss handed you a plane ticket a few days prior, you questioned why you were heading to Nashville. She’d wasted no time in telling you about the Gala you would be not only attending, but speaking at. Your stomach was sick at the idea. Some of it was due to the public speaking, but more so because Nashville was the last place you wanted to be. But, part of the job was to keep up appearances, so you had no choice but to oblige.

The question of Nashville in specific brought up a whole world of information. Apparently, the success of your line of clothing had caused some speculation of expansion. That morning, the company announced your own outlet store opening in your hometown. They thought it as a gift to you, but it was more of a nightmare. That meant a lot more time in Nashville, even permanently, for a while. Also, more appearances, and more of a chance to run into the boy you’d rather run away from. Still, your appreciation of the gesture was unmatched; knowing they had faith in you to have your own outlets meant more than anything in the world. You felt like the success you’d been searching for had finally rewarded you. So, you hopped on a plane and threw on your best dress. You left your hotel room with big smiles and the determination to forget any uncertainty. Still, you were well aware that a gala in Nashville would indisputably include musicians. That meant there was a larger chance of seeing Josh than you were particularly comfortable with.

You followed the sea of people into the large room, noticing it was decorated in hints of golds and silvers, really showcasing elegance. The stage was lit up with low lights, hinting towards the anticipated guest speakers. Soft music flowed through the sound system, enveloping you in a warm embrace. Music was the best way to drown out the other noise, and in your life, there was always noise. “You know, there’s more to life than caviar and blow.” You looked to your side, focusing on your company for the night. You laughed at her comment once you’d processed what she said. “I don’t think many people here know that.”

“It’s a tale of the rich, Liz. Most of these people were born on a bed of gold plated fish eggs and were shoved straight into generational drug addiction.” You smirked, eyes scanning the crowd. You knew your parents weren’t poor, but they were far from the families some of these people were born into. They had good reputations in the community, but not across the world. You weren’t impoverished, but would never have fathomed this type of money as a kid. As much as they cared about appearance, they were good parents. They raised you with love and strong morals, and you weren’t a stranger to struggle. They didn’t pay your way through life. What you got came from what you earned.

“Can you even imagine growing up this way? First birthdays spent at the Met Gala and graduation parties thrown in Venice?” She chuckled, but disbelief was present in her tone. Liz was a university student you’d hand picked to hire after her graduation. She doubled as an assistant and one of your models, but she was more than that. Over the months, she’d slowly turned into your best friend. She wasn’t much younger than you, only by about three years. Her resume caught your eye faster than any other, and you’d called her almost instantly. She just wanted experience in the fashion world, but you were certain that if things went smooth over the next few months, you’d ensure she’d be given her shares in the company. She worked extremely hard, had fantastic insight, along with being bright, kind, and hilarious. She kept you on your toes and brought you back to reality when you needed it.

“I suppose if you don’t know anything else, it’s completely normal.” You theorized. “I don’t ever want my kids to grow up that way. I don’t want them to be scared of playing outside and getting dirty. I don’t want money to be their main concern. And, if I had to suffer through the American public school system, they will too.” You laughed. She joined in, agreeing completely. You turned your head towards her, noticing the material of her dress was misplaced around her shoulders. “Mm, hold on,” you said, reaching over to her. She faced you, already knowing what the look on your face meant. You straightened it out, taking a small step back to double check. “There. Can’t have you in disarray, darling. Sure way to get us kicked out.” She grinned, picking up on your joking tone immediately.

“You just want your designer dresses to look perfect.”

“I’m nothing if not vain.” You both shared another laugh. You noticed a photographer making his way around the room through the corner of your eye. “Lipstick check.” You said, panicked. You flashed her your teeth.

“You’re good.” She repeated the action back to you.

“You, too.” You let out a dramatic sigh of relief. “Can’t wait to get the pictures and introductions over with so we can start drinking.”

“You don’t need any generational alcoholism; you got that all by yourself.” She chided. You chuckled, eyes searching for a server with champagne. That was one thing that was always for certain; no matter how mind-numbing the gala’s were, there was always high-end alcohol floating around somewhere.

“It’s not all pretty patterns and cross stitching, you know. Have to drown the demons somehow.” Your conversation was cut short by a camera being shoved in your faces. You gave your best public smile, the kind where your lips were upturned but you looked a little dead behind the eyes. Somehow in the celebrity world, that equated to elegance. You posed with Liz, giving the camera a bit of a show. Eventually, you broke and gave a real smile, but only for a moment. Once the photographer moved away, you relaxed your posture, feeling a bit more human.

“Does fame always entail looking soulless?”

“Yeah, pretty much. You’ll get used to it.” You mumbled, eyes falling to the table that was overflowing with food. Your eyes lit up at the sight of self-serve champagne flutes. You grabbed Liz’s hand, bringing her along with you as you advanced towards it. You picked up a glass, immediately taking a large gulp out of it. The nude colour of your lipstick stained the rim, claiming it as your own. Liz grabbed one too, also indulging in the bubbly liquid. “You don’t have to look soulless all of the time. Just when you’re posing, or on the walk, or if you’re walking down the street, or at the supermarket.” You listed, humour radiating from you. “Interviews give you the chance to show a little bit of life. Takes the world as a shock, you know, when they realize you actually have a personality.” You continued the earlier conversation.

“That seems a bit odd, doesn’t it?”

“Oh yeah, definitely. But it’s what I was taught.” You gave a shrug. “I think people find power attractive, and that’s kind of what you encase in pictures when you look like that. At least that’s what I picked up from it.”

“Makes sense, I guess. Also makes the interviews more memorable, too. People cling to the emotion ‘cause they feel like they finally get to know some part of you. Feel connected, even.”

“Exactly, sweetheart. See? You’re gonna have my job in no time.”

“Oh, don’t say that, you’ve got at least two more good years before people get bored of you.” You couldn’t help the cackle that fell from your lips, finding the statement hilarious mostly because of its truth. The spotlight only shines for so long before it’s begging to move on. “I don’t want your job. I’d like to work with you forever, I think.” She picked up an appetizer from the table, eyeing it suspiciously before popping it in her mouth.

“Don’t you think I’d be more fun when I go batshit crazy because I don’t know what to do with myself after the fame?”

“No, because I’d have to take care of you.” She said without missing a beat. “I know the rest of the ass-kissers at the office won’t. They just want their five minutes of fame. They don’t give a shit about you.” You hummed an agreement, knowing she was speaking the truth. True connection in the world of money and power was rare, and she was the only person you’d ever felt it with aside from your own mentor. It was a constant struggle of use people or get used, and it was exhausting. As much passion as you had for your work, you were always the first to admit that the industry was ruthless.

“Yeah, sometimes I feel like Julius Caesar walking in there. Waiting for the day they all get together and stab me.” You took another sip from your glass.

“Well, they’ll probably stab me, too. At least we can go to hell, together.” You raised your glass as a cheers to the statement. She gently clicked her glass against yours in response. “Jokes aside, you are a good boss. They all have great things to say about you, so you don’t have to worry about planned assassination, yet.”

“Fantastic news. I’ve been preparing for it for weeks, now.” You smiled. Just as you finished speaking, the lights dimmed a little further. You paid no mind to it, assuming it was just a cue for everyone to gather around in preparation for the first speech. “I want to be a good boss. I don’t want to be the person everybody is scared of. I do what I do because I love it, not for the money. If I can make people fall in love with it, too, then I know I did something worthwhile. That’s the end goal.” You drained the last of your beverage, placing your glass on the tray to be taken away. You immediately went for another, needing the liquid courage for when the stage was yours.

“You do a good job. That office is full of inspiration. I never felt out of place, even when I had no experience. Made me feel like I was meant to be there, rather than just meant to work for you.” You let a smile out, one laced with genuineness.

“Cause you are, Liz. I didn’t hire you because i thought you’d stroke my ego. I hired you because I knew you’d challenge me. There’s no pride in getting your way all of the time. We all need a little criticism to thrive.”

“It’s insane, y/n. I remember being in my grad year and hearing about the new model catching the attention of everyone at Fashion Week. Less than a year later, you were working with one of the biggest designers in America, and starting your own brand. You made the industry your bitch, and when you hired me I was terrified of you. I thought anyone who climbed the ladder that fast had to be evil. But you’re just a person. My friend, even. You respect everyone, from the big bosses to the janitors. It’s very admirable.”

“Don’t stroke my ego, I just told you that’s not why I hired you.” You chuckled. “I was the same as everyone else, too. I didn’t come from money, I had to do the dirty work, I got my heart broken, and knocked down a few times, too. I can recognize what I have now had a lot to do with luck, even if I do have the talent. That’s just the way the industry works. But, everyone plays a part in success, even if you’re the one changing the garbages, signing the legal documents, or have your name sewn into the tag.” She watched you in admiration as you spoke, almost shaking her head in disbelief. Despite the tiny age gap, she always felt like she could get the wisdom she craved from you. She looked up to you, even when you told her not to. In your eyes, you and her were the same. You wished she’d start to see it that way, too. “You’ll realize I’m just me when I get up there and stumble over all of my words.” You chuckled.

“You’ll look hot while you do it, though.” She gave you a nudge with your elbow. You laughed, feeling redness rise to your cheeks.

“You think so?” You appreciated the compliment more than she realized. Deep down, you were hoping to look good, just in case Josh happened to be floating around the event.

“Oh, yeah. That dress was the right choice.” You both fell into a silence, meticulously people watching. By the time the first speech was over with, you were buzzing with nervousness for your turn on the stage. You realized just how many people were there as you observed the crowed, understanding that if you messed up, you’d be the laughing stock of the event. Liz picked up on your anxiety, soothing you with small jokes and comments intermittently. It was helping slightly, knowing that you weren’t there alone, at least.

You’d done a lot of behind the scenes work over the last year. You did a few shows, not minding the camera in your face because you didn’t have to say anything. There was no worry of stutters or misplaced rambling. Only recently had you started speaking publicly, beginning with interviews and press conferences. Now, they were integrating you into a spokesperson. As your mentor told you, your work is nothing without publicity. You needed to create the illusion of connection, make people believe they know you, make them feel appreciated. That was the key to success. You spoke at a few gala’s, but this was the largest one to date with some of the most popular faces. The alcohol was giving you a bit of a sense of confidence, and whether it was fake or not didn’t matter; you had it, and you were going to use it.

A hand on your shoulder sent a jolt of shock through you, as it was unfamiliar, yet strangely comforting. Somewhere in your soul, you recognized it without even having to look at the face. “I always told you green was your colour, sunshine.” The tone, the dialect, formulation of the words, even the barely noticeable Michigan accent at the end of the sentence was painstakingly reminiscent for you. Your stomach plummeted, heart pounding against your rib cage as you turned towards the voice. Your gaze connected with his, sending a wave of emotion through you more powerful than most you’d felt before.

“Jake,” you breathed. His lips upturned into a smile, unable to contain his excitement to see you.

“I missed you.” He said, wasting no time pulling you into a hug. As much of a shock as it was to see him, you couldn’t help but melt into the hold. As angry as you were with his brother, Jake had always been your best friend through the years of dating Josh. When your relationship came to an untimely end, so did your friendship. You’d grown estranged from the boy in the same way you had with Josh, and it killed you just the same, too. You spent days deliberating reaching out to him, just to check in, but you didn’t want to overstep boundaries. Instead, you mastered the art of becoming a stranger with him, too.

“You had time to miss me with all of that music you’re making?” You teased, pulling back but not fully letting go of him. Your hand rested on his bicep, hesitant to release him in case he slipped away. “An album and another world tour coming up, I’m surprised you have time to think of anything other than that guitar.”

“Always have time to think about you,” he said, trying to pass it off as a joke. You could see a flicker of hurt cross his eyes, the small emotion feeling like a stab to the chest. “What about you, though? Your own brand and an outlet store here in Nashville?”

“So you keep up to date with me?” You grinned.

“Seems like you do, too.” He chuckled. “I, uh… I’m proud of you, Sunny.” The words settled in your bones like cement, weighing you down. As kind as they were, everything seemed to hurt when it was coming from his mouth. Maybe it was the way he said it, or the way his tone of voice reminded you so much of the boy you forced yourself to stop thinking about. Maybe it was his mannerisms, or the face, because when he turned his head a certain angle, all you could see was Josh. Whatever it was, it hurt, and it hurt achingly bad.

“I’m proud of you guys, too. The single was phenomenal. I always knew you guys were destined for something big. I think I can even see the rock and roll hall of fame in your future.” You smiled.

“One can dream.” He laughed. “I saw you were almost completely sold out of pre-orders. Everybody has been talking about you. It’s crazy.”

“You checked out my website?” You asked, a fizzle of excitement sparking in your chest. He scoffed at the question.

“I think we were the first to put an order in.” He was telling the truth, you could sense the genuine nature of his words just by his eyes. “The men’s line is super cool, by the way.”

“Oh,” you squeaked. “You got something?” Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment.

“Of course we did, y/n. We all got something.” You wanted to press further about his statement of ‘all’, but you pushed the thought away.

“I thought you guys would have forgotten about me by now.” You admitted. A bewildered look flashed across his face.

“Forget you?” He asked, unable to believe you’d ever think that. “Sunny, we think about you almost every day. We talk about you all of the time.” You swallowed hard at the new found information. “I saw your name on the program and I knew I couldn’t let you get away without saying hi, at least. I’ve been looking for you all night. Recognized you as soon as I saw you over here. Could spot you from a mile away. I know… I know things ended pretty poorly, but the love is still there. That’ll never go away.” You almost didn’t know how to answer, wanting to pry more from him, but also not wanting to know at all.

“Is… is Josh here, too?” You finally asked, knowing the answer before he replied.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“Is he,” you paused yourself, unsure if the inquiries were pushing a boundary. “okay? I mean, like obviously, but you know.” You rambled, embarrassing yourself slightly.

“He’s Josh.” Jake assured you, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “He misses you. He’s the first to check all of the fashion magazines to see if they’re talking about you. He hasn’t been… quite the same, since everything. He still laughs and drinks and rambles, but he’s a bit more distant, I think.”

“Oh,” you repeated your same proclamation from earlier.

“If you feel up to it, maybe stop and say hello. Even if you don’t talk to him, Sam and Danny would be over the moon to see you.”

“Uh, I don’t know, Jake.” A humourless laugh fell from your lips. “Some things are just better left as is.”

“I don’t think this one is,” he said, eyes boring into you. “It’s completely up to you, sunshine.” He said, smiling warmly to assure you he meant it. Before you could respond, the announcer called out your name; in the height of emotion, you must have missed your introduction. “Don’t leave without saying goodbye, okay?” Jake said, ushering you to the stage. You nodded, downing the last of your champagne before bustling towards the stairs. You were mindful of the skirt of your dress as you walked, fearing you may trip on it and ruin the entrance. Once you had both feet planted safely on the stage, you took to the mic stand.

“Thank you for that kind introduction,” You smiled off to the side of the stage at the host, assuming he had said something kind like he had for the other speakers. Otherwise, you would look a bit like a fool. “It’s fantastic to be here tonight.” You took in a breath, trying not to focus on the crowd staring up at you. “I spent a long time debating on what to say when I got here, tonight. If I’m being completely transparent, I’m still not sure. The boss told me to get up here and tell you about myself, so that’s what I’m going to do.” You started, eyes settling on Liz for some sense of security. You used her as a focal point until your comfortability grew. “It’s intimidating getting on stage and talking about success. Especially when I feel far behind in that department, sometimes. It doesn’t seem to matter how many sales are made, or how many congratulations are spewed; we always seem to be our biggest critic, and I haven’t been able to break that habit, yet. Growing up in Nashville, there was always buzz about the greats and the up and coming stars; this whole city, and state, is full of pride, and for good reason. To think that I can be considered part of it has been mind-blowing. Knowing the support I have from home and all over the world has been incredibly eye opening, and a bit of a confidence boost, too.” You flashed a smile, causing a chorus of laughter from the audience.

“Just over a year ago, I was packing my bags and riddled with anxiety at the thought of jumping on a plane and flying away from everything I’d ever known. Somehow, by the grace of the universe, I’d been selected to participate in New York Fashion Week. When I moved there, there was no true promise of a career, but the publicity certainly seemed like a good place to start. As I flew away from here, all I could hear in my head was a million reasons to turn around and stay home. There was one voice of reason in the swarm of negativity that pushed me to follow my dream, and I’m so thankful I listened to it.” You paused, regaining your breath before you continued on. “When I arrived, I got to meet people I’d been admiring for my entire life; names that I never thought I would get a chance to speak about, let alone speak to them. I walked with pride, even in my ignorance. I had no idea what I was doing, I was just happy to be there. Somehow, in my clumsiness and lack of grace, someone saw potential. I was lucky enough to be graced with a mentor who never gave up on me; one who taught me everything I know. She is my rock, and my mother away from home. I owe every success to her, and I have no shame in saying that.” There was an awe from the crowd, appreciating the sweetness.

“She taught me design, sure, but more so than that, she taught me dedication, pride and the true meaning of hard work.” Another laugh sounded. “After a few months of relentless effort, it started to pay off. A few small companies picked up my designs, using them for miscellaneous projects. But one day, in the dreariness of winter, I was given my most valuable gift; the offer to launch my own line of clothing. Of course, partnered with my parent company, but my own work, with my heart and soul stitched into the seams. I still struggle to believe it’s real.” There was a chorus of cheers at the statement. You gave a smile, rose dusting your cheeks. “In the time from the early stages of production to now, I’ve made incredible memories. There were hard times, lots of tears and challenges, and even a couple nights leaving me with the desire to give up. But I pushed through, persevering only due to the strength that my team gives me every day. Every person I work with played a part in me getting here, and it would be incredibly dishonourable to walk away without thanking them for their hard work, too. I was lucky enough to bring along my assistant, Liz.” You pointed to her in the front row. “She’s been my driving force, my best friend, and my motivation. I have no doubt that she’ll take over for me eventually, or even be bigger than what I am, now. If anyone deserves applause, it’s her.” The crowd gave another round of cheers, causing the younger girl to erupt in a blush, smiling and waving slightly. When the crowd died down, you continued.

“I’m beyond grateful to say the presales for the brand have nearly been sold out already. That is almost unfathomable for me to think about. This morning our company issued an announcement, which I’m sure some have heard by now. After months of relentless efforts, and the dedication from my fantastic colleagues, in addition to launching this new line of clothing, our first outlet will be opening here in Nashville. We thought it only right for my hometown to be the first place to have access to our store. I’m at a loss of words at the moment; I cannot express my gratitude enough.” A round of applause sounded. You couldn’t hold back your grin, looking around the room at all of the beaming faces.

“I want to sincerely thank everyone here for giving me the time to speak. Telling my story still feels very odd, like I shouldn’t have a story to tell. I never expected to be here in my lifetime, let alone at the young age that I am. To be considered a part of Nashville’s pride is an extraordinary feeling, and proof that hard work does pay off. I would be nothing without this city, and to see the love it has for me is a beautiful thing. I also want to say thank you to all of the friends of the past, ones who I don’t necessarily speak with anymore, but I always hold close to me, no matter the distance. There’s a few in the audience tonight, ones who will forever hold a place in my heart. They helped me get here just as much as anyone else.” You gave a soft smile, trying to locate Jake. You caught sight of him, making sure he knew who you were talking about. You ignored the bodies that stood next to him, unsure if you could keep going if you caught Josh’s gaze. “So with that, I won’t keep you any longer. Enjoy your night of festivities. The food is fantastic, and so are the drinks. Thank you for allowing me to share my celebrations with you all, and here’s to a hundred more outlet stores across the world.”

As you stepped off the stage, you were finally able to fully catch your breath. The clapping and cheering didn’t fully dissipate until you rejoined Liz by the beverages. “You did fantastic!” She raved, handing you a new glass of champagne.

“I feel like I’m going to throw up.” You breathed, fanning yourself with your hand. You grabbed the champagne with your other, wanting to drink away the feeling of standing on stage. “This is so stupid, don’t you think?” You asked her. “A bunch of rich people bragging about how rich they are.”

“That’s only some of them. Others are people who worked hard and want to celebrate the success. That’s where you come in.” She gave you a pat on the shoulder. “Thanks for the mention. Made me feel special.”

“You are special,” you laughed. “Takes a certain type of person to be able to put up with me all day.”

“Mm, you seem pretty widely liked. Who was that guy you were talking to?” She pried. You grimaced at the memory of the interaction.

“Uh, that was ex-boyfriends twin brother.” You explained. Her eyes widened at the knowledge, almost as if she didn’t believe you. You were surprised she didn’t catch on. Well, more surprised that she wasn’t eavesdropping. If you were her, you would be.

“Like ex-boyfriend who broke up with you because you moved to New York?”

“That’s the one.” You nodded. She knew about Josh, but mostly just the basics. She was well aware of the constant internal battle of still loving him and hating his guts. “Jake was my best friend, too, though. Just ‘cause me and Josh ended badly doesn’t mean I don’t love him.” You shrugged.

“So do we hate Josh today, or love him?” She raised an eyebrow.

“To be determined.” You grabbed a napkin off the table and one of the more appetizing looking foods.

“Is he here?” You nodded.

“Whole band is. I’m not surprised. They have an album and a world tour coming up.”

“So you keep tabs on them,” she smirked.

“Yeah, obviously. You wouldn’t?”

“Fair enough.” She conceded. “Are you going to talk to him?”

You didn’t answer, mostly because you weren’t sure yourself. You had no idea if you wanted to talk to him, and no idea if he wanted to talk to you. You weren’t mad at her for being curious. She’d been trying to set you up on dates the entire time she’d known you, but you always turned them down. She only clued in to why after you told her about Josh. You had no interest in dating anyone, mostly because you were certain nobody would ever compare to him. The other part of you was terrified of getting hurt like that again. When Josh let you walk out without as much as a shred of hesitation, it shattered you. He was everything; the one thing in your life you’d ever been 100% certain of. Leaving him behind was gut wrenching, but knowing he didn’t care enough to fight for you was worse. You always believed he loved you enough to not care about the distance; the few tours he’d done while you were dating never proved to be an issue. You had a hard time swallowing the truth that he didn’t mind the distance as long as he wasn’t the one waiting at home.

“I don’t know, Liz.” You sighed. “It’s been a long time. I think it’s better to just let it go.”

“If you still love him this much after all of this time, maybe you shouldn’t.” You placed the flute to your lips, tipping your head back and taking another long drink of champagne.

“You’ll learn soon enough not to listen to your heart all of the time. Brain knows best.” You reminded. “And stop being an instigator, you little shit.” You laughed. She smiled, but her eyes were following something behind you. You furrowed your eyebrows at her sudden disinterest in you, finding it odd.

“Better turn your heart off, then.” She let out a quick mumble of words. She’d recognized him just from the similarities to his brother. There was no mistaking who he was, or who he was intending to talk to.

“What?” You questioned, turning your head to look in the direction of her gaze. As soon as you did, you wished you hadn’t.

Your heart sped, stomach erupting into nervous butterflies. Your palms were sweating and your breath was stuck in your throat. Josh was there, approaching you with intent. He looked different; his hair was fluffier, shaved down on the sides. He had facial hair, too, although not much. He really looked like he’d grown up since the last time you’d seen him. But, if you had to admit it, you did, too. No more kids pretending to be grown ups with too many hopes and dreams; real adults with real professions. Adults that admittedly, had been very stupid. Adults that were still very much hurting over the mistakes their younger selves made. The difference 18 months can make was staggering, you realized.

His confidence faltered once he caught your eyes. He was certain he was going to fall to his knees, weak just from the sight of you in front of him again. As he walked, he debated turning around, pretending he’d never seen you at all. But, he was certain there was a gleam of hope in your eye, and that drove him to keep going. “I’ll catch up with you later,” Liz said, quickly shuffling away to give you a moment of privacy. By the time she was out of sight, he was in front of you. The scent of incense and lingering cologne hit you like a ton of bricks. It was a scent you’d been craving for a long time, unmistakably Josh. Unmistakably home. The both of you stood, unsure of where to start. The emotion was too intense for a simple hello, but the uncertainty limited you both from saying anything else.

You looked over his face, taking in his features, studying him as if you were trying to memorize him all over again. He did look different, his jaw a bit more prominent and overall looked a bit more serious than he used to. Still, under the new facade, he was in there. The Josh you fell in love with was undoubtedly standing in front of you, just rebranded. You realized he couldn’t change enough to take away the type of love you had for him, for it was undying. “Is this the part where we cause a scene and I throw my drink at you?” You asked. The corner of his lips upturned into a smirk.

“If you feel the need to, I suppose I could understand why.” You returned the expression, happy to know that the spark was still there. At least to you, it was.

“How’ve you been, Josh?” You whispered. You were certain a flash of hurt crossed his eyes as the words left your lips. It was one that told you he thought too much of you for such simplistic small-talk. One that screamed rejection at the formalities, especially considering you both knew each other better than anyone else.

“Travelling the world.” He shrugged, but that’s all he gave. “What about you, Sunshine?” The sound of the nickname coming from his lips could have sent you straight to your knees. You had to take a long breath before you could respond, feeling the need to recover from his question.

“Dressing up and pretending I fit in with these people.”

“Pretending?” He challenged. “Could’ve fooled me.” You gave a soft smile. “That speech was phenomenal.”

“Suppose I’ve grown into the part, now.”

“Crazy what a year and a half can do, eh?” You caught his eyes, feeling your heart ache at the sea of brown you’d been missing so much. “Not like anyone was counting, though.” He added, trying to pass it off as a joke, afraid to let the vulnerability through.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “You look good.” You finally said, airing out what you wanted to admit. He chuckled.

“Have you looked in a mirror, lately? Success looks fantastic on you.” He breathed. “I didn’t think you could get any prettier, but you always seem to surprise me.” Your heart fluttered at the compliment.

“You’re all looking quite spectacular, actually. I’d like to meet your stylist. Seems like they really know what they’re doing. The stage outfits are a masterpiece. Maybe I could work with them, if you’re willing to open up a spot for an old friend.” You smiled, a warm one without any dishonest undertones. He let out a small laugh, nodding along to your statement.

“I’m sure we could work something out. We’d all be pretty thrilled to have you on board with us.” A painful moment ensued, one where you clearly picked up on his refrain. He was talking in broadness to avoid letting you know how badly he’d enjoy having you around, again. “Did you maybe want to go somewhere a bit more private?” He asked, breaking the silence you’d fallen into.

“Yeah, that would be alright.” You nodded. “Think I need a few drinks for this conversation, though.” You finished the last of your champagne and grabbed two more flutes. He nodded, appreciating the idea, then grabbed two for himself. He was grateful you hadn’t turned around and walked away. A simple hello was more than he was expecting from the conversation.

He led you in the direction of a side door, opening it and holding it for you. You slipped out, noticing that it revealed a patio area. The night was cool, but clear. The stars twinkled few and far between, and the moon casted a low light over the ground. There were a few tables and chairs places spaciously around the deck, the posts adorned with swirls of string lights. It would have been quite romantic had the mood not been so sullen. He pulled out a chair for you, inviting you to sit down. You did so, placing your glasses on the table. He pulled a chair from the other side of the table towards you. He settled in front of you, a little bit closer than ex’s should sit.

He took a long look at you, drinking in every detail and finding himself intoxicated from it. He’d wished for so long to have you in front of him again that he seemed to forget the effect you had on him. It had only gotten worse with time. He looked to be waiting for you to speak first, so you did. “Why’d you let me go that night?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“I was stupid.” He admitted.

“Yeah,” you nodded, agreeing with him.

“Why’d you leave like that?” He asked, challenging your question. You looked up at him, disbelief clouding your expression.

“You made me choose, Josh.” You reminded him, not willing to take the blame for the situation.

“And you didn’t choose me.” He said, not in an accusatory fashion. Just in a simple sense, as if he was recalling the night as you spoke.

“I didn’t want to choose at all.” You explained. “You were asking me to pick between the two things I wanted most in life. It’s not like I walked into that conversation planning to leave you.”

“You chose a job over me, y/n.” You shot him a look, one that he knew all too well. It would take a lifetime to forget it.

“What if it was the other way around? You know you wouldn’t have picked me over music.” He kept his gaze on you, almost smiling, despite the situation being completely humourless.

“I certainly would have thought about it.” He answered. You could see he meant it, but you weren’t sure if he understood the implications of what he was saying.

“Okay.” You nodded, acknowledging his answer. “Come to New York with me.” You said, crossing your arms in front of your chest. You thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head.

“What?”

“Come to New York with me.” You repeated, refusing to back down. He didn’t need to know you’d likely be staying in Nashville at least for the foreseeable future. He didn’t need to know your bags were packed at your apartment, waiting for you to return just so you could pick them up. Your homecoming was set in stone, but you needed to see if he realized the extent of his answer.

“Things are different, now, y/n.” He said, dismissing the subject.

“Pretend they’re not.” You urged. “Please.”

“I would fly to see you on the weekends. Stay with you as much as I could. But I couldn’t move there.” He said. You nodded along to his words, begging for him to see the issue in his statement.

“What if that’s not good enough? It’s all or nothing, Josh.” You felt your anger that you’d suppressed for so long begin to surface. “It’s me or the band.” You leaned forward, catching his eyes as he tried to look away from you.

“I get it, okay!” He finally exploded, likely feeling the same way you did. “I know what I did wasn’t right. I’ve spent a year and a half trying to forgive myself for it. But you were so caught up in being mad that you didn’t even stop to think about how I felt!” Rarely did you ever see Josh yell, let alone expel frustration the way he was doing in that moment. You were taken back, but not distracted from your feelings.

“Then tell me!” You pleaded. “You wouldn’t even look at me that night! All you said was you didn’t have anything to say to me, but clearly you do, so say it!”

“Fine, you want to hear it?” He asked, leaning forward, too. “I love, but I don’t fall in love with people. Never have. Thought it was too much commitment for such a short lifetime. I spent my entire life completely fine with never settling down. Then I met you, and you changed everything! I didn’t even get to decide whether I fell in love with you or not. By the time I started to realize how much you meant to me, I was already head over heels. I spent every day of my life, for three years, falling more in love with you every day that passed; I changed my whole outlook because you showed up and made me realize maybe I just hadn’t met the right person, and that’s why I never wanted to commit. We moved in together, and I started picturing this life with you, one where you had my last name and we had a few kids. Then you left. You just came home one day and said you were leaving, as if it weren’t an earth-shattering idea. I was so mad because you changed my entire life, and then you took it away!” You understood better, now. He felt abandoned, and you caused it. He never would have admitted it to you then, and he barely wanted to, now. Still, the idea of him thinking you were going to walk away and forget all about him stung like no other.

“I didn’t leave you, Josh. I left Nashville!” You exclaimed. “I never pictured a life without you, and I still don’t! I sit at my apartment alone and hope that maybe you’ll text me, or call, or show up! But you never did, so I had to learn how to deal with it!”

“It was the same thing, y/n! You left me behind for a whole new life. If we didn’t break up that night, we would have anyway!” You’re recoiled as if he’d burned you. “I didn’t call because you were perfectly fine leaving me here! You jumped on that plane and got to start over, and I got to sleep in a bed that haunted me with your presence!”

“It wasn’t the same, Josh.” You shook your head. “I sat at home in that apartment every day when you were touring the world, watching you live your dream from the sidelines. Watching girls throw themselves at you, always wondering if maybe I’d wake up one day and you’d find someone new. I waited for you, watching your life through a phone screen while I worked my shitty 9-5 and settled for video calls whenever you had time for me. Not once did I make you feel like shit about it. But the minute I get a chance at the life I’ve always dreamed of, it was a choice? One or the other? It wasn’t fucking fair, Josh. How was I supposed to stay after that?”

“You started dating me knowing that was my life! I spent three years with you building one of our own, one that we were used to, and comfortable with, one where we were happy. You came home one day and told me you’re getting on a plane and leaving for god knows how long. There was no discussion, I just had to be okay with it!” He was leaning closer with every word. Your faces were inches apart, both of you radiating with anger and on the defensive.

“Of course you were, Josh! You were my boyfriend! I told you I got invited to model in New York Fashion Week, and you made me feel like I didn’t have it in me, like you were already waiting for me to fail and come crawling back to you! You let me walk out that door like the three years we spent together meant nothing to you. Like you were only okay with being in love with me as long as it benefited you.” Tears were brimming in your eyes, the ache of the pain from that night still as prominent as it was a year prior. “You knew how much it meant to me. It was my biggest dream, one that I thought I would never achieve. I finally had a chance to live the life I always wanted, which still in included you, by the way, but you were too stubborn to understand anything other than your hurt. I would have came home every weekend to see you, called you every night, I would have done anything, because you were my whole world! You were supposed to support me, and you left me! I walked out that night, but you made that decision!” The tears spilled on to your cheeks, finally shed after so long holding them back. In the heat of the moment, at the sight of your hurt, he threw the anger and the fighting to the side. Without hesitation, his arms shot out and pulled you into a hug. You didn’t fight, just held him, too. As upset as you were, you knew that his hold was something you’d been longing for the whole time you were apart. The way he felt wrapped around you made you believe that the world was okay; the comfort was an impenetrable force.

“I never wanted to make you feel that way.” He whispered, holding your head securely in his palm. He used his other one to rub circles on your back. “I will always be your biggest fan, even if we never speak again after tonight. I’m so proud of you, and I can’t stress that enough. I was selfish, and I know that. You did so much for me, you always supported me, and I took it for granted. I was hurt when you left, but I never should have let you leave like that. I should have been there for you, cheering you on the same way you did for me.” He hesitated, but placed a kiss to the top of your head. When you didn’t recoil, he took it as a win. “I’m so sorry, y/n.”

“I am, too.” You said, the tears finally slowing. You pulled back, although quite hesitant in the action. He let you, but didn’t remove his hand from you. Instead, his thumb drifted to your cheek to wipe away the tears that had fallen. “It was never from a lack of love, Josh. When it comes to you, that’s not even a possibility. Breaking up with you was never an idea in my head. The distance didn’t scare me, because I knew I loved you enough to work through anything. When you wanted me to choose, I panicked. I was hurt, and I reacted based on that. I shouldn’t have walked out without fixing things. That was my mistake.”

“No, y/n. I shouldn’t have put you in that position, and I never should have let you leave like that. I was hurting and I was scared, I thought you would leave and forget about me. I didn’t want to lose you, but I ended up losing you, anyway, and I still haven’t recovered. It’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” You leaned into his touch, resting your head on his hand.

“Josh, I fell in love with you the day I met you. That never changed. I still walk around New York City, hoping I run into you, praying it won’t be like this forever. Your memory lives in everything I do; I couldn’t forget about you, even if I wanted to. Trust me, I’ve tried.” You laughed. “You’re the love of my life, whether it was only for a period of time or if we still have a chance. Nobody could ever replace you.”

“I never moved out of the apartment. It’s still decorated the same. It still has little reminders of you, everywhere. I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of them. Jake thinks I’m insane, or I’m torturing myself. I guess I just thought you’d come back for them, someday.�� He confessed. “I still love you the same as I did a year ago.”

“Me, too.” You closed your eyes, hoping to hold on to the memory of his words forever. “So we’ve both been waiting for each other to come back this whole time? We’ve just been too stubborn to send a message first?”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Both of us watching the others lives through social media, the most impersonal way possible.”

“You looked so happy. I was worried you were happier without me.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes at the statement.

“See? Impersonal. I’ve been miserable, mama.” Your heart soared at the term of endearment. You reached for your champagne glass, taking a sip, careful not to let your eyes leave him.

“Yeah, me too.” You eventually laughed. “We don’t have to be miserable, anymore. Not tonight, at least.” You said, wanting to blame the advance on the alcohol, but knowing deep down that it was wholly untrue.

“Are you saying what I think you are?” He raised an eyebrow. The Josh you knew so well was starting to make an appearance, again. You gave a shrug.

“I have a room upstairs with free room service. King bed, too.” He looked at you with intrigue, wanting to jump at the chance but still being afraid your judgement was clouded. He didn’t want you to regret it in the morning.

“There’s probably still a lot we could get off our chests. Did you want to talk more, first? I just want you to be sure this is what you want.” You stood, drinking the last of the liquid from your glass and moving on to the next.

“Fuck, Josh, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life. We can figure it out in the morning. I haven’t had sex in a year and a half, and I’m tired of waiting. I want you.” He took a deep inhale at the words, fighting the urge to take your clothes off right there. He stood, too, grabbing his own champagne glasses. He had no fight left in him, because he wanted you just as bad.

“Lead the way, mama.” For a moment, things felt right. Like no time had passed and you were both the same people as you were before all of the hurt. You turned on your heels, heading back to the door you came through, earlier. He was hot on your trail, not willing to let you leave his sight.

You slipped back inside, noticing the speeches had come to a close and the lights were off. The music was louder and the mood lighting really set the tone for the rest of the night. If you weren’t in such an entanglement, you thought you might enjoy it. But, you were certain that the nights events would top whatever enjoyment the ballroom could give you. You dropped off your empty glasses on the way by, watching Josh discard his, too. You reached out for him, looking back over your shoulder. He tangled his fingers with yours, over the moon at the feeling after so long without it. You guided him to the exit, managing to sneak out without too many curious glances. Liz, however, noticed you as soon as you came back inside. Josh’s brothers did, too. All of them were well aware that it wasn’t over between the two of you, and it never would be. They were waiting for the reunion just as much as the two of you were.

You both ran down the hallway to the elevator, giggles slipping out intermittently. When the doors opened, allowing you inside, Josh jumped at the moment of seclusion. His hand found your waist, pulling you into him like it was the most natural thing in the world. His free hand guided your chin upwards, finally taking the chance to lean down and kiss you. You melted into the feeling, closing your eyes in bliss. It was sweet, no provocative nature present. Just both of you savouring the moment in which you’d been denied of for months. When the ding signified your destination was reached, his wandering hands were reluctant to pull away. Thankfully, your room wasn’t too far away, meaning he wouldn’t have to wait too long to continue.

You keyed into your room, barely getting the door closed before he was back on you. You both kicked off your shoes, leading him further inside before things got too heated. You parted from him to click on the lamp by your bedside. He took the chance to admire you, now. No more residual tension was clouding his vision. “You look stunning, y/n.” You turned to him, a smile on your lips.

“You look pretty good yourself, Joshua.” He approached again, slower and more cautious. He raised his hand to your cheek, brushing away all of the hair obscuring the sight of your face.

“Has it really been that long?” He didn’t need to clarify; you knew what he was asking. You gave a nod, hoping you didn’t have to dive into it too far. In truth, you didn’t want to hear a submission of guilt from him. If he’d been with other people in your time apart, it was his free will, and you couldn’t be upset about it. There was no disloyalty of any kind, but you certainly didn’t want to imagine it.

“I guess it never felt right. Always felt like I was still yours, I think.” You shrugged. He smiled at the words, overjoyed at the profession.

“Me either,” he said, running his thumb over your cheek. “I was always yours, too.” You let out a sigh of relief, almost feeling the need to cry again. The entire night felt so surreal, almost as if you were dreaming.

“God, please tell me this is real life. I don’t want to wake up disappointed.” You pleaded. He chuckled, finding the statement quite cute.

“It’s real, mama. Trust me, I feel the same way.” He leaned down, kissing you once more. Your hand reached for him, landing somewhere on his side. You didn’t care where it landed, only that you were touching him again. “Sounds like we’ve got a lot of time to make up for.” He stated, pulling back just enough to get the words out. A laugh fell from your lips, one that was quiet and still laced with disbelief. “Turn around for me.” You obliged, spinning to face the other direction.

His fingers drifted over your exposed skin, gathering your hair and pushing it to the side. He unzipped your dress, gently brushing the silk straps from your shoulders. He leaned forward pressing his lips to the spots they once graced. You let out a hum of delight, closing your eyes at the sensation. He let you decide whether you wanted to let the fabric fall, and you did. It dropped with as much elegance as it held while you adorned it on your body. He bent down, waiting for you to step away from it. Once you did, he cautiously picked it from the ground, gently laying it over the chair by the bedside. Once it was safely out of the way, he finally turned to look at you again. His breath caught in his throat, completely taken off guard at the sight of you naked before him once again.

“My beautiful girl,” he whispered, taking a step towards you. You were standing, completely naked aside from your underwear, at full disposal for whatever he chose to do with you. There was no worry in your body; the minute his hands found you again, you were certain you’d found home, again. After so long wandering through life, gaining success but never really feeling like you belonged, it made sense again. All of the money and the fame was satisfying, but never fulfilling. His touch reminded you of why everybody loved to say money can’t buy happiness. There was no financial value that would ever equate to the feeling of being loved by Josh. If you were put on earth for a purpose, it was to be loved by him, and to love him. Nobody could look at you and see right into your soul the way he could; he knew every part of you without even looking or having to ask. “Lay down, baby.” He insisted.

You allowed him to guide you down on the bed, your head finding home in the nest of pillows. He rid himself of his jacket, and his shirt wasn’t long following. You watching him in awe, not being able to comprehend how one boy could posses so much beauty. It was in everything he did, his words, his actions, his appearance. He was perfect. He slipped out of his pants, climbing in bed with you. He pulled you into his arms, just enjoying the intimacy for a moment. Eventually, you were both stripped naked and tangled in each others limbs. As heated as the journey to your room was, sex was no longer the most pressing thought in your heads. You found yourself lost in chatter, laughing and giggling at stories you’d been longing to tell each other for the last year. In between, there were stolen kisses; some short, and others laced with neediness. No sexual gratification would compare to the emotional connection you started to restore.

Eventually, he found himself laying between your legs, mouth exploring the spots on your neck he was aching to reunite with. Every so often, his teeth or tongue would grace over a sensitive area, pushing a breathy moan from your lips. The sounds were heavenly, ones he thought he’d never get the chance to hear again. “I want you, Josh.” You sighed, finally growing restless after the hours of relentless teasing.

“Tell me what you want, gorgeous.” He hummed against your collarbone.

“You. I don’t care, anything, please.” You sighed, not caring about the desperation. You felt him smile against you, clearly pleased with the state you were in.

“You want me to touch you?” He asked, fingers ghosting over your rib cage, sending a jolt of electricity through.

“Please,” he brought the pad of his thumb to your nipple, brushing it over you. He watched as you drew in a shaky breath. If there was one thing you knew about Josh, it was that he loved viewing sex as a marathon. If you were to let him, he’d go all night, dragging it out as much as possible. Tonight, you couldn’t take it. He could tell how you were feeling without you saying it aloud, not finding it in himself to push you any further. He let his hand drift downwards, shifting his weight onto one side so he had better access to you. He slipped his fingers between your legs, running them through you and getting a feel for your arousal. Your back arched at the feeling, it was familiar yet almost foreign.

“All of this for me, pretty girl?” He asked, running your wetness up to your clit. He slowly rubbed circles, just light enough to allow you to adjust to the feeling. You muttered a curse under your breath, almost having forgotten how acquainted he was with your body. His fingers kept a steady pace, gradually applying more pressure as he continued on. His eyes remained on your face, wishing to engrave your expression into every part of his brain so he could never forget it.

As his hand explored you, his lips did, too. His mouth drifted across your exposed stomach, trailing kisses all over the skin. Eventually, he worked his way up to your breasts, pulling a hardened nipple into his mouth, grazing his teeth and tongue over it, begging for a reaction. When he heard a whine fall from your lips, he closed his eyes in satisfaction. He slipped his finger down towards your entrance, moving his thumb to your clit in place. He pushed his middle and ring finger inside you, starting at an agonizingly slow pace. His thumb brushed over your clit with every pump of his fingers. The sensation was much more intense than you remembered it, maybe because of the depravity of the feeling, or because you missed him so much.

The sex was slow, much slower than it used to be. Both of you wanted to savour the experience as much as you could. But the praise, the words, even the way he worshiped you like you were the most beautiful thing to walk the earth was all the same. Neither of you allowed any of the negativity to change the way you appreciated each other. You’d been with plenty of people before Josh, but never any who loved you in the way he did. Every touch was sacred, filled with love and tenderness, even if the act wasn’t supposed to feel that way. As stupid as you felt about waiting so long for him, you were thankful you did. Nobody could make you feel the way he did. The wait just resulted in the usual pleasure being escalated by a thousand.

“Does that feel good, mama?” He asked, finally pausing his assault on your breasts. He looked up to you, eyelids heavy and lust clouding his pupils.

“So good, Josh.” You sighed, looking down to meet his gaze. He gave you a lazy smile, content at the confirmation.

“Did you miss me?” He questioned, his tone dropping slightly. He curled his fingers upward with the next movement, causing a gasp to fall from you. “Hmm?” He hummed, still waiting for you to answer.

“Missed you so much.” You admitted, eyelids fluttered closed at the pleasure he was causing.

“Think she missed me, too.” He muttered, eyes flowing down towards his hand working into your cunt. You swallowed hard at the words, taken off guard by the cockiness but knowing he was speaking truth. His jaw clenched, clearly pleased with the sight. He was good at putting his pleasure aside to ensure yours, but you knew him well enough to recognize what his expression meant. He’d been depraved of this, too, and the view was driving him insane. “Right?” He asked for clarification, his chest rising at his deep inhale.

“Yeah,” you whispered, a pressure beginning to build in your belly.

“She knows she belongs to me.” He hummed. Your face flushed at the statement, unsure where the possessiveness was coming from. That was something quite new; before, he always acted as though the access to your body was a gift. The simple statement dripped with entitlement, but you didn’t mind. He was right. No matter how much distance between you, or how much time passed, you were his. You didn’t mind the claim in the slightest. In fact, you enjoyed it.

“Fuck, Josh,” you let your head fall back on the pillows, the knot in your stomach tightening more with every second that passed.

“Yeah?” He beamed, knowing exactly what the warning was for. “Look at me, mama. Wanna see that pretty face while you cum.” He pleaded. You were in no state to deny him the request, eyes falling back on him. He was watching you, desperate to see your expression. His movements remained steady, gently coaxing the orgasm from you. Your mouth fell open slightly, a sharp inhale sounding as the pressure peaked and sent you into a down-spiral. You managed his name through the intense wave of moans, eyes squeezed shut and all of your muscles tensed. He rode you through it, whispering notes of encouragement as you were clenched around his hand.

When you relaxed against him, he let out a long breath. The tail end dissolved into a groan, absolutely floored at the sight he had just experienced. “Was that good, baby?” He asked, slowly pulling his fingers from you. You sighed at the loss of contact, still yearning for more.

“So, so good, Josh.” You didn’t mind fuelling his ego, because it was well deserved. At first, you wanted to blame the quickness of your orgasm on the length of time it had been since you had one. Deep down, you knew it wasn’t true. Josh had the ability to make you cum simply by looking at you with enough intent. It had everything to do with him, and you knew nobody else could ever affect you in the same way.

“Can’t believe you had nobody to take care of you for so long,” he let out a disapproving tsk, slowly sinking down further on the bed. “All of those New York boys really missed out.” His soft lips grazed over the inside of your thigh. “A woman like you deserves more than that.” His teeth sunk into the flesh, causing you to jump at the sudden sensation. “What was it, mama? Couldn’t find anyone to fuck you right?” Your jaw clenched at the profanity of his statement. You were well aware that he was only messing with you just for show, so you played into his game.

“Mhm,” you agreed. “Nobody could fuck me like you, Josh.” You told him, lowering your tone. The muscle in his jaw tensed at the confession.

“No?” He asked, lips dangerously close to your heat. “My poor baby.” He sympathized, his facial hair gently tickling the skin of your legs. “I’ll always treat you right, honey.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, agreeing with him.

“Y’know I’ll give you whatever you want, whenever you want it. Always fuck you like you just how you like it.” The teasing was torturous; you needed him more than you needed water. It wasn’t a desire, it was necessary for survival.

“I know you will, baby.” You breathed, your sultry tone quickly dissolving into whiny.

“That’s why you’ll always come home to me, right?” He asked, dipping his head even closer to your cunt. “You know who you belong to, beautiful.” You gave a nod of desperation. “Wanna hear you say it, mama.”

“You, Josh. I’m all yours. Only yours.” You promised. A smile graced his face.

“Sounds so pretty when you say it like that.” He was trying not to sound needy himself; his mouth was practically watering at the sight before him. He almost felt wrong teasing you in such a way, because he was certain he was more desperate for you than he’d ever been. “I’d treat you better than that. I’d fuck you every day if I could, just to make sure you know what you deserve. Just to make sure you were happy.” He explained, feeling his guilt resurface. You felt your heart ache at the statement, the words reminding you that as good as you felt, things weren’t the same as they used to be. He saw the emotion flash across your face, realizing how his statement may have come off in a context he didn’t intend. “I can, and I will, if you’ll let me.” He let down the act for a moment, fully letting you see into his heart.

“Yeah,” you managed to muster out. “I’d like that.” He couldn’t hold back the look of happiness that forced its way onto his face.

“Be mine again, baby. Promise I’ll make up for everything. I’ll never let you get away again.” He whispered, but he was pleading with you. There was no way he could walk away from you after this. It would kill him.

“Okay,” you agreed, no hesitation present. It wasn’t the alcohol, or the sex talking. You wanted him, and you were certain of that before you’d even spoken to him. Maybe everybody else was right, you thought. This wasn’t one of those things that you couldn’t walk away from. If you did, you’d be 80 years old and still wondering what it would be like to love him again. When it came to Josh, it was never over. Just a wrong turn that ultimately led you back to the same destination.

He let the thought settle in his soul; no more yearning for someone he wasn’t sure he would ever have again. The universe had granted him another chance, and he’d be damned if he took it for granted a second time. You were his again, and he was yours, as if that was ever untrue in the first place. He wasted no more time, slipping his arms under your thighs and pulling you down on his mouth. He let his tongue run through you, savouring the feeling and moaning against you. He was eating you as if he was a starved man offered his first meal in weeks. In his eyes, he was. Being depraved of the home he’d found between your legs was a terrible feeling, and he never wanted to feel it again.

You let a moan out, your hands snaking down to his hair. You noticed the lack of it on the sides, understanding that it would be hard to get used to. Instead of focusing on the difference, you tangled your fingers in the hair still atop his head, losing yourself to the familiarity of his tongue. You couldn’t help but admire him through the waves of pleasure, the way he got enjoyment out of making you feel good, how pretty he looked with his head nestled between your thighs. You noticed the way his hips would grind into the mattress, just enough to give him a bit of relief, or the way he was completely lost in you, not having a notice for anything other that what was in front of him. You had no doubt he would stay there forever, if you let him.

He pulled back for a moment, just to catch another look of your face. “Taste so good, baby. Even better than I remember.” He slipped his thumb in place of his tongue, just so he didn’t lose the progress he was making. “Missed having you like this. Thought about it every fucking night.”

“I thought about it too, all of the time.” You sighed, mesmerized by the emotion he adorned in his eyes. He returned his other fingers to you, pumping them in time with his thumb for a moment. He studied you for a while before he returned to work with his mouth. The combined feeling of him pumping his fingers into you, and his tongue focused on your clit was overwhelming.

You were nearing a second orgasm, desperate for him to keep going. He could sense it in your breathing, the tugs at his hair, and the profanities you were expelling every so often. He remained steady, curling his fingers every so often in attempt to find the spot inside you he knew so well. He hit a particularly sensitive spot, causing your hips to buck forward. He didn’t have to say it aloud for you to know he enjoyed it; a groan produced from deep in his chest, his fingers attempting to get the same reaction from you again. You closed your eyes, unable to focus on anything other than the knot tightening in your belly.

“Josh,” you breathed, a verbal warning that you were close. He hummed against you, encouraging you. Your head fell back, blissfully unaware of anything other than the feeling of his tongue. Soon after, you were coming undone again, crying his name and quickly dissolving into a mess. He coaxed you through it, more dedicated to making you feel good rather than getting the satisfaction of seeing your face.

When you came down, he didn’t ease up; his tongue was still determined, fingers never slowing. Even in the burning oversensitivity, you couldn’t help but still enjoy the moment. You were certain that after 18 long months, he could cause you nothing but physical pain and you’d still enjoy it, just because he was the one doing it. Part of you wished he never had to stop, because you never wanted to come down from the high of the intimacy. The overpowering sensation was driving you insane, the previous orgasm never really having a chance to dissipate before the next began to bloom. The noises you were making were filthy, pornographic, almost. Josh was almost praying the walls were thinner than they appeared, cocky enough to know how good he was making you feel and egotistical enough to want everyone to know it.

When your third orgasm was begging you to let go, you couldn’t even get the words out to warn him. Your knuckles were white against the hold on his hair, all of your muscles rigid and lungs aching for a full breath. It took little time for you to reach your peak, panting heavily and glistening with a thin layer of sweat. This time, he slowed his movements as your body relaxed. He removed his tongue first, followed by his fingers once he knew you were back to earth. “There you go, mama.” He sighed. His lips ghosted over your torso as he inched his way up your body. “That’s all you needed, hmm?” He hummed, sucking a few marks into your collarbone. “Someone to take care of you,” his head nuzzled back into the crook of your neck, mouth exploring the area once again. “Someone who knows how to make you feel good?” His moustache tickled the sensitive skin, causing a tired giggle to fall from you. You could feel him smile against you in response to the sound.

“I want you, Josh.” You said. As fantastic as he was making you feel, your patience was non-existent. It had been too long since you’d had him, and you didn’t feel willing to wait any longer. He lifted his head from your neck, eyes scanning your face for a moment. His lips upturned into a smirk, likely feeling similar.

“You want me?” He whispered, already shifting between your legs for a better position. You gave him a nod. “How bad, beautiful?”

“So bad, baby. It’s been so long.” You admitted, not willing to challenge him in the slightest. His fingers gently grazed over your hips, a moment of innocent love before such a dirty act. He pulled you towards him, grabbing your legs and guiding them over his shoulders. The excitement brewing in your stomach was barely containable.

“Been so good for me, mama. Won’t make you wait any longer.” He promised. You felt his hand leave you, moving down to guide himself towards your entrance. Without another word, he pushed himself inside you. You both let out a sigh of relief, finally feeling at peace with each other. The battle of experiencing so much pent up love with nowhere to channel it had come to an end; the solution to the issue being clear the whole time, but only now was it truly acknowledged. You needed each other, and no distance would change that. There was no separation or heartbreak big enough to rid yourselves of the connection you had. You both knew that before the night dissolved into the current situation, but it was only solidified further once you both felt what it was like to be reunited in such a way. There was no way you could walk away from each other again.

His hips moved slowly, the only motive being the need to feel the closeness. The movements were barely stimulating, but more than pleasurable to you both. “God, y/n.” He hissed, sucking in a long breath through his teeth. He pulled you closer to him by your thighs, thrusting as he did so and causing a gasp from you. “Feel so fucking good.” He picked up the pace, realizing he was only torturing you both. The memory of him inside you was nothing in comparison to the real thing. The angle allowed the tip of his cock to brush your cervix, sending a jolt of electricity through you each time. “Wish I could have you like this forever.”

“Me, too.” You groaned, your hand reaching out in desperation for his. He met your gesture, pulling your hand into his and resting them on your thigh. His eyes were closed, intently focusing on his movements, making sure he kept a steady rhythm. The low light of the lamp was casted over his face, allowing you to really admire his beauty. The slight furrow of his eyebrows, the tension in his jaw as he fucked into you, his lips that always looked so soft and inviting. He was a masterpiece, and you felt lucky to even be able to experience him in such a way. His free hand found your breast, at first just a gentle acknowledgment, but then he took your nipple between his fingers and applied a bit of pressure. The shock lit up your face, causing him to give you a small smirk. As much as he loved to please you, he loved to be an asshole, too.

It was all in the nature of the relationship; the time that passed didn’t change the dynamic. You both still seemed to be on the same wavelength, remembering what the other liked, incorporating small humorous expressions and actions to lighten the intensity. You were grateful that he was still so familiar to you. It took the nervousness away, and made sex feel lighthearted and carefree. There was never a worry of embarrassment or fear of judgement. He was your best friend, still, after everything, and he was making sure you knew that. The same goofy, sweet boy from the beginning.

You could tell he was growing bored with the position. As much as he loved the feeling, you knew what he wanted, and you were fully willing to give it to him. “Lay down,” you told him. His eyes connected with yours, an unspoken question of certainty. You gave a nod, and he didn’t wasn’t any time pulling out of you. He collapsed onto the bed beside you, turning towards you and practically pulling you on top of him. He had a grin plastered across his face, cheeks a bit rosy and eyelids heavy.

“You know me so well.” He said softly, almost as if he were talking to himself.

“You act like you’re the only one who enjoys this position.” You rolled your eyes.

“I know you do, but I really like it.” His excitement was clear in his face. You couldn’t help but smile, too.

“Yeah, ‘cause you don’t have to do any work.” You joked, securing your legs on either side of him. You lifted yourself up, reaching down to guide him back into you.

“No, ‘cause you look so pretty on top of me.” He answered, tone of voice matching yours. His hands found your hips, slowly bringing you down on him. “I’d be happy to do the work as long as I get to see you like this.” You couldn’t find the words to reply, already lost in the new position, revelling in the angle and depth he was reaching inside you. You began to roll your hips on him, slowly catching up to speed. “Oh, and because I can do this, now.” He reached around, pinching your ass between his index finger and his thumb. Your eyes widened, giving him a look of bewilderment. He gave a chuckle, keeping his hand there and gently running his thumb over the spot he’d just hurt.

“Not being very nice to someone who’s trying to get you off,” you grumbled. He erupted into a real laugh, giving his head a small shake.

“Don’t have to try very hard, mama. Never did.” He joked, but there was a hint of truth to the statement. “But, I suppose I could be a little nicer. Since you’re being so good to me.” He brought his free hand up to your cheek, brushing the hair from your face. You leaned into his palm, closing your eyes in content. You were still moving your hips, just enough to satisfy the craving while he joked with you. It felt so natural, so familiar. It felt like home.

“You’ll be nice for a while, then you’ll do something to piss me off again. It’s just what you do.” You giggled, remembering his constant antics to get on your nerves. It was intolerable by times, but always in the most loving and sincere way possible.

“You love me.” He stated, in a completely relaxed, natural way. Your breath caught in your throat at the word, surprised that it made an appearance again so soon. He said it as if he’d never stopped saying it in the first place. He finally noticed what he said, expression losing its humour almost instantly. “I hope you do, at least.” He mumbled.

“I do,” you whispered, nodding your head. “I really do.” You were overcome with emotion, swallowing back the tears begging to be shed at the statement. The high intensity of the emotions in the room were unimaginable, and they hadn’t subsided all night. A small smile graced his lips as a laugh filled with relief sounded from him.

“God, it’s been so long since I’ve heard you say that.” He guided your head down, connecting your mouths in a gesture of gratitude. “Too long.” He mumbled against your lips. You pulled back just enough to speak clearly.

“I’ll say it again, if you really want me to.” You grinned.

“Please, baby.” He begged, wanting to hear the actual words.

“I love you,” you breathed, happy to finally be able to tell him again.

“I love you.” He replied, bringing you into another kiss, much more desperate than the last. As he did so, he suddenly seemed to remember where you were and what you were in the middle of. Without breaking away from you, he thrusted upwards with force. The impact caused you to let a moan slip into his mouth, only fuelling him further. You raised your hips slightly, allowing him to move with ease. He took it as an invitation, repeating his earlier action and continuing with a steady pace.

You parted with him, catching your breath. You straightened up, placing a hand on his chest to support your balance as he fucked you. You let out a slur of curses, indirect praise for the work he was doing. You moved your hips in time with his, greedy for more. He dropped his hands back to your waist, fingers gripping at the flesh like he’d gone feral. As much as you liked to tease him, you liked the position just as much as he did. There was something that drove you crazy about him under you, the freedom of his hands in which he used expertly. Plus, the pleasure he got from it fuelled yours, too. You were certain you could spend the rest of your life doing nothing but pleasing him and be happy while doing it.

His hips stuttered and he let out a low groan, the telltale sign he was getting close. It had been a long time for both of you, the stamina barely existing on either part. He held you still, wordlessly telling you to slow down. You fought against the hold, not caring if he came or not. In fact, you were hoping he would. He’d been generous in the orgasm department with you, and you were eager to do the same for him. “Slow down, mama.” He warned.

“It’s okay,” you assured him.

“Don’t want it to be over yet.” He admitted, catching your gaze.

“S’okay, baby.” You repeated. “I have this room all weekend.” He eyed you with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, like he was already thinking about the luxury of fucking you again. Like he was making a list of how many places around the room he could have you in. In a split-second decision, his fingers shot to your clit, finding it without any issue.

“Gotta cum with me, then. You know the rules.” He ordered. You have a nod, a hum of pleasure sounding straight from your chest. He stopped your movements, allowing him to set the pace and ensuring his hand didn’t slip from you, either. You locked your hips in place, fully allowing him to do as he pleased with you.

You both knew it wouldn’t take long; the joys of knowing each other so well meant that you knew exactly what to do. He kept his movement steady and consistent, uttering small praise as you allowed him to work at you. The noises falling from your lips graced his ears and settled deep in his chest, begging him to never forget them. “Look at me,” he wanted to sound authoritative, but he was nowhere close to it. Still, you obliged. You caught his eyes, finding yourself lost in them as soon as you did. “Come on, mama. Cum for me.” He begged, both of you knowing he couldn’t last much longer. The intensity grew with each second that passed, your head spinning with pleasure.

“M’gonna,” you moaned, promising to fulfill his request. He let out a groan, the end dissolving into a bit of a growl. The sound alone seemed to be enough to do it for you. “Fuck!” You exclaimed, your climax hitting you hard. You kept a steady hold on his chest, your other hand reaching for his arm for support. He didn’t have the ability to coax you through it; his cock twitched inside you, the sight of you coming undone sending him over the edge. He held you down on him as he spilled his release into you.

“Fuck, y/n,” he groaned, fingers digging into your hips with a promise of lasting bruises. When he came back down from the high, you were both breathless and seeing stars. He released his grip on you, guiding you down to lay on him. “My beautiful girl,” he sighed, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I missed you so much.” You confessed, focusing on the drum of his heartbeat against his chest.

“You have no idea how much I missed you.” He admitted, letting his fingers run through your hair. He sounded tired, enveloped in comfort and peace. “I thought about you every day. You never left my mind.”

“I’m sorry I left, Josh. I didn’t want to leave you. Especially like that.”

“I know, mama. I’m sorry for trying to make you stay. It wasn’t fair. I should have supported you no matter what.” He gently scratched your head. You closed your eyes, fully immersed in the intimacy. “I promise I’ll never do anything like that again. I was lucky enough to get a second chance, and I want to do it right, this time.”

“Me, too.” You agreed. “I never want to lose you again. It was a horrible year without you. Yeah, I did great stuff, made a name for myself, but it didn’t really mean a whole lot without someone to share the excitement with. Everybody was talking about me, but I had nobody to talk to. It was lonely without my best friend.”

“I know what you mean. Great things happened, I’m proud of what we accomplished, but I just wanted to be able to come home and tell you all about it. Every time I realized I couldn’t, it all just lost its shine.” You smiled at the statement, thinking he worded it perfectly. Life was fine without Josh, survivable in the least, but he made everything shine. He gave everything just a little bit more novelty. It was dull without him. Lacklustre, even. “Was it too soon to say I love you again?” He asked, finally airing out his anxiety.

“I think I was shocked, hearing it again after so long, but I don’t think it was wrong to say it. We never really stopped being in love; all of it was still there, it just had nowhere to go. If anything, I’m happy you still feel that way, too. Made me feel less stupid.” He didn’t respond, but you could practically feel him smiling. “You never moved out of the apartment?” You remembered he had said it earlier, but you wanted to clarify that you’d heard him right.

“No. Never changed it, either. There’s still shampoo bottles in the shower that belong to you, clothes in the closet, our pictures on the wall. I think I always hoped you’d come back home. Wanted you to know it was still yours, if you ever did.” Your heart ached at his words. You’d both been so stupid, suffering for so long that you both forced yourself to believe you’d forgotten about each other. “And it is. I mean, still yours, if you ever want to come back.” His free hand drifted over your back, fingertips gently ticking the exposed skin. “I know you have a career in New York, and I understand if you can’t, or you don’t want to. If you ever do want to, or change your mind, I’d be more than happy.”

“Thank you,” you wanted to express it in the most sincere way possible. The knowledge that he still wanted you there with him was extremely comforting. You didn’t mind the idea, either.

“But, for now, I’m happy to fly out and see you whenever I can. I’ll call every night, just like I should have from the beginning. I’ll never let you think I forgot about you ever again, or that I don’t believe in you, because neither of those are true.” You placed a kiss to his chest, finally feeling ready to tell him the news. You would have, anyway, but knowing he was willing to make it work even if you lived so far away made it impossible not to tell him.

“Actually, I was wondering if you could give me my key back.” You grinned. His lax stature immediately changed, pulling back just so he could look to see if you were joking. “Now that the line is releasing, and the outlet store is opening here, I’m gonna be in Nashville for a while. On and off, sometimes, but here for the foreseeable future, at least.” The look on his face made it seem like you’d just told him he won the lottery. “I was kind of dreading staying in a hotel, or having to hunt for another lonely apartment.”

“Are you serious?” He asked, still catching up to speed.

“Yeah,” you laughed. “I’d really like to come home, Josh. If that’s what you want, of course.” You felt that the need to go through the motions of dating again were quite silly, especially since you’d spent most of your adult life with him. The brief pause when you were gone didn’t really mean too much. You’d both changed, but clearly not enough to become anything close to strangers.

“Of course I do!” He wrapped you up in a hug, holding you like he’d never get the chance to, again. You both dissolved into a fit of giggles, excited at the idea of building a life together, again.

“I know you have to tour, and that’s okay. I’ll have to be in New York sometimes, too. I can come visit you, wherever you are. If you get some free time, you can come see me, or we can meet in the middle. I don’t care where that is, because if I’m with you, I’m home.” If it was possible to hold you tighter, he did just that. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he mumbled, words muffled due to his face being buried in your hair. “So much, mama.”

“I do think we should probably get cleaned up, though.” You eased into the idea, realizing the state you were both still in.

“A shower?” He asked, hidden implications written all over the question.

“Sure,” you laughed, sitting upright. “But we should do it, like now.”

You both made your way into the bathroom, getting in the shower and cleaning yourselves off. The night turned into the early hours of the morning, but sleep refused to come to either of you. You were too caught up in the stories, the jokes, and the touches, and the sex to care about anything else. More than anything, you were both just content finally being back in each others company. The sunrise barely put a damper on your night of reunion, because you were too immersed in each other to notice it. Too immersed in the overwhelming feeling of finally being at home after an unexplainably long, tiresome day.

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multiplefandomsblog · 3 years

Text

Hajime x reader x Nagito NSFW and SFW headcanons

request; omg could you please (of course, only if it isn’t a bother) do the polyamorous SFW and NSFW headcanons like you did for kokichi and Shuichi with Hajime and nagito? gn! or fem! reader, please 🛐

Warnings; unedited, minor spoilers, long af, polyamory, anggggsssst, fluff, the timeline is bullshit, voyeurism, praise kink, degradation kink, orgasm denial/edging, cock warming, BDSM, gn!reader, I tried making the reader’s parts gender-neutral, anal, fingering, hair pulling, cum eating, mentions of choking

Note; I feel like I made this more different compared to the Shuichi and kokichi one, but I still hope you enjoyed it nonetheless, thank you for requesting! (i also had so many more things to add, but it was becoming quite long so I had to hold back a bit qwq)

- mod chia

•SFW•

◊ TSUNDERE HAJIME AHHH- I’m so sorry, I just had to.

◊ But yes, Hajime is absolutely the cutest tsundere ever.

◊ It’s especially amusing when you and Nagito both gang up on him, kissing or cuddling him randomly just to see him flustered. You’d both randomly start being super affectionate towards him, turning him red. A thing you and Nagito would do is lean on both sides of his shoulders at the same time, or hug him from the back and front. Maybe some cheek kisses from both sides, he loves those but he won’t tell you that.

◊ I headcanon Hajime to be a protective boyfriend. If he ever found out someone had been rude to you or Nagito, he would throw hands. He is willing to beat up anyone for the two of you, you can’t talk him out of it.

◊ Hajime would get jealous easily, as a result of his insecurity about his talentlessness. If he ever saw an ultimate putting the moves on either of you, he’d probably get uncomfortable and try to pull you away or be extra affectionate.

◊ He gets kind of upset and envious of the ultimates Nagito praises, it makes him wonder if you and Nagito preferred someone else that had talent. So please assure him that he’s everything you both want and more, he needs the confidence and comfort.

◊ If he felt particularly insecure one day, you’d both sandwich him in a cuddle and tell him how important he meant to the both of you. He would refuse at first, saying that he was alright and all, but you two don’t fall for it.

◊ As you two are always there for him, he’s always there for you too.

◊ If he’s ever stressed during a class trial and you or Nagito’s stadium was next to his, he’d instinctually hold hands with either of you, feeling his nerves calm down a bit at the reassuring squeeze.

◊ He has a sense for when you two are feeling upset, he always knows when something is up because he has a ton of experience himself. So he can recognize all the symptoms because he’s seen them in himself.

◊ Hajime somehow always knows the right thing to say and the best stuff to give to you when you’re feeling down in the dumps. He always reassures you that no matter what, your feelings are valid and that you can always come to him or Nagito when you aren’t feeling like yourself.

◊ I headcanon that Nagito has some trouble detecting when something is wrong, I feel like he’d be too blinded by how amazing you two were that he’d overlook some symptoms of something wrong, brushing it off. He wouldn’t really think about the fact that you two could have issues in the first place, as a result of him viewing you so highly.

◊ Nagito is a great listener if you ever want to talk, and he will provide the warmest cuddles if you need them. He isn’t great at comforting you or advice, but he will whisper the sweetest things in your ear when you’re feeling insecure.

◊ Nagito is a pretty thoughtful boyfriend, he remembers everything about the two of you(i.e. Favourite food, flowers, colour, material, etc.) though he can’t even remember to take care of himself.

◊ He remembers all of the things his loves enjoy, and getting them for you two makes him extremely happy. He spoils you both rotten even though Hajime insists he doesn’t have to, but he does anyway.

◊ Nagito sometimes thinks he intrudes between the relationship with you and Hajime, he has thoughts of leaving the both of you because he thinks your relationship would be better without him. He’d see you two being adorable with each other, and think of how lucky he is to have you two.

◊ Almost too lucky. He worries that his presence in the relationship will somehow harm both of you, he’s convinced that something terrible will happen. So he’s constantly paranoid around the both of you. With everything good that occurs, something terrible follows; That’s his ultimate.

◊ In the early stages of your relationship with him, he’s pretty distant, always trying to edge himself out so you two could be happier together. But you two would notice his behaviour, asking him what was wrong.

◊ As he explained, your hearts broke from his reason as you both smothered him with love. Hajime would aggressively love him, telling him he shouldn’t think that and that you both would be extremely upset if he had left.

◊ He’d cry from the affection he’d receive from the two of you, feeling incredibly grateful for the both of you. After that, he’d stop being distant, realizing that he was just being selfish and hurting his loves. He’d realize that he had been doing the opposite of making you guys happy, and all he wants is for you two to be happy.

◊ I headcanon that Hajime and Nagito both have a teensy bit of trouble initiating kisses or contact, you’d have to initiate most of it. Hajime being too awkward and a tad shy, whereas Nagito doesn’t feel worthy of your touch.

◊ Buuuut, Hajime can and will initiate affection if you tease him to the point where he just wants to shut you guys up with his lips. He’d kabedon you guys and everything.

◊ Nagito’s favourite thing to do to you both is cooking and giving gifts. He loves acts of service because it makes him happy to know that he’s making you two happy from what he’s doing. If you let him cook or do anything for you, he’d be extremely happy. All he wants to do is to please the both of you.

◊ It’s cute seeing him dance around in his little apron while he cooks, it leads to one of those rare moments where Hajime initiates a back-hug. You’d join shortly after, not wanting to miss out on the cuddles. Nagito would be pretty surprised, but he’d let you two cling onto him as he kept on cooking with a wide smile on his face.

◊ A thing Hajime unconsciously does is hold your guys’ hands, he doesn’t want you two to wander off and him to lose you. It’s kind of a mom’s instinct.

◊ A thing you like to do is steal both of their clothes, wearing them around the house as if they were yours. The boys love seeing you in their clothes, their hearts just melt from how adorable you look. Hajime would flush and then question you for it,

◊ “Why are you wearing my clothes?” You clenched your hands around his material, bringing it tighter around your body. “Because it smells like you.” Hajime rolled his eyes but didn’t tell you to take it off, “Y-you’re such a perv.” He walked away, “But I’m your perv, right? Right, Hajime??”

◊ Nagito would question you for it, but for different reasons. “Ah yes, of course, you still look stunning in my garbage hoodie. Speaking of, why are you wearing my trash clothing? I can buy you your own hoodie, you know.” He walked up to you, tugging at the hem of his hoodie you were wearing, “Do you want me to take it off?” You teasingly pouted as Nagito panicked, “N-no! I mean… If you’d like to, it’s your choice. But if you decide to keep it on, I wouldn’t be upset- Hell! I’d never be upse-” You shut him up with a bear hug, “Don’t worry, I’m not even wearing anything underneath this in the first place.” “Oh. Haha, wait wha-”

•NSFW•

◊ I think Hajime secretly loves cockwarming but would never suggest it because he’s afraid you two might think it’s weird. During movies where one of you decide to sit on his lap, all he’s thinking of is sinking his dick inside either of you, walls squeezing around him comfortably.

◊ I headcanon Hajime to be a switch, it depends on his mood if he’d rather be a top or bottom. He goes along with you two are more comfortable with.

◊ I can imagine Hajime tied to the bedpost as you sink down on him, Nagito watching you both with his cock in his hand. Nagito joins after a while, Hajime looked so vulnerable, it’s alright if he’s selfish just this once right? He’d slip himself underneath Hajime, his dick sliding in Hajime’s ass as he cried out pleas and moans.

◊ Hajime’s eyes would be rolling in the back of his head as you both bounced on and thrusted into him, the pleasure mind-numbing. He’d be drooling from the intense pleasure he received from the both of you, Nagito whispering praises on how good he felt around him whilst you lost your mind writhing and grinding against his dick.

◊ I headcanon that Hajime wouldn’t really enjoy hardcore degradation, maybe some small stuff to make him submit, but any personal degrading turns him off.

◊ Now, I don’t think this is a popular opinion but, I can see Nagito getting off on degradation. You or Hajime could call him a slut, and he’d be cumming from words alone. He doesn’t really think about whether you truly feel that way about him, he goes into that mindset and he kind of forgets all of it, focusing solely on the pleasure he was giving to you two.

◊ Hajime likes being told he’s making you feel good, it reassures him that you’re actually enjoying it and it’ll get him to go harder and faster.

◊ When Hajime tops, I think Hajime wouldn’t really be a soft or hard dom, he’d just be in the sweet middle spot. He’d never go too far but he wouldn’t be too gentle with either of you. Ultimately, it depends on his mood. For example. If you both had provoked him beforehand to the point he was done, he would go feral and hard dom the shit out of you both, not even giving you a chance to breathe.

◊ It’s kind of hot when you see his face turn red and his neck pop a vein, but it’s even better when he starts releasing all that sexual frustration into you both.

◊ He’d have Nagito on his dick while Nagito sucked the life out of you. Nagito wouldn’t even have enough time to protest, Hajime would already have his tip teasing Nagito’s rim with Nagito’s head pushed down in between your thighs.

◊ He wouldn’t stop thrusting until he came, using you both for his pleasure and his pleasure only(kinda hot ngl). Even when he did feel either of you reach your high, he’ll pull away when you could practically taste it.

◊ He loves edging, the distress on your faces when he pulls away at that last moment gets him off in a sadistic way.

◊ Though, he would never let you two go without an orgasm unless you or Nagito acted bratty even after the many punishments. He punishes the both of you until you two finally break and submit completely to the point where you had no brat left in you.

◊ Nagito’s praise kink is more giving than receiving, though he will never complain if you did praise him. It makes his heart full when you tell him how good he is, he’s glad he’s making you feel good. You two always make Nagito feel good, so he always makes sure to let you know how good you make him feel.

◊ It’s kind of hot when you see his face turn red and his neck pop a vein, but it’s even hotter when he comes back to release his frustrations into the both of you.

◊ Nagito definitely puts the pleasure of his loves first, he always makes sure you two cum before him.

◊ Nagito wouldn’t insert his dick in either of you unless you begged for it, he doesn’t think he deserves the pleasure, he prioritizes both of your orgasms first.

◊ Nagito as a bottom would always ask before he could cum, he wants to be good for the two of you and never wants to disappoint you. He doesn’t even think he is worthy of an orgasm himself, so if you said yes, he would hysterically thank you as he gasped and whined from the intense pleasure his orgasm brought him.

◊ Nagito is very vocal during sex, and god bless because I think we all know that Nagito has the breathiest, sexiest moans.

◊ I headcanon Nagito to be the softest dom, I cannot imagine this man degrading or hurting you two in any way. He loves you two too much to hurt you, even if it’s for sexual purposes. Though he may sometimes accidentally(?) overstimulate you at times, losing himself in the moment.

◊ Nagito as a bottom enjoys any humiliation, degradation, choking or pain you put him through, he loves it all. His sexual reactions are definitely the best, he makes the prettiest moans as you or Hajime insert kanye west loves fingers in his ass, drool trailing down his chin as he arched his back.

◊ Hajime loves pulling hair as much as Nagito loves having his hair pulled.

◊ Nagito mostly gets off by watching the two of you fuck, pleasuring himself as he watches the both of you with dilated pupils. You two often have to beckon him to join, eventually resorting to ordering him after his many refusals that you didn’t have to.

◊ A thing Nagito does after sex is licking up every single drop of cum you two had given him, not letting a tiny bit go to waste. He thinks your cum is ‘hopeful’ and it’s precious to him, so he doesn’t want to seem unthankful for the cum you gave him. He makes sure to lap you both up clean, maintaining eye contact as his tongue slides up your guys’ skin.

◊ Hajime’s hard dom demeanour changes completely after sex, however tired he may be, he always makes sure the both of you are alright after the rough treatment he had given the both of you before he passes out.

◊ Nagito would praise the both of you after sex, holding both of you close as he let you doze off in his arms.

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aliensunflower-fics · 4 years

Text

The Interview

[ Did I seriously take time away from writing requests and part twos of things JUST to write a fic where Marinette Flambé‘s Gabriel until he’s nothing but a dirty little lump of coal? Yes. Yes I did. Enjoy! ]

Gabriel Agreste would call himself a practical man. He had never been one for frivolous things. And he believed this was a good thing. His straight and to the point nature meant no gift would go unused, no conversation would drag on, his time would never be wasted. And his designs reflected this practical and sharp point of view. Or so he believed.

Gabriel Agreste would also call himself a realist. He knew full well he was the villain, and he knew full well the damage he had done and was doing. But it did not bother him, he was selfish and sentimental at least concerning his wife. And he wanted it all. The wife, the business, the perfect son, the house. All of it.

And that was why Gabriel Agreste wanted Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She was brilliant, creative, determined, and quick on her feet. Each time he'd been near her he could feel the power she radiated her flurry of untapped potential and raw emotion swirling like a tumultuous ocean. Yes, Gabriel needed Marinette to become his most awe-inspiring destructive, and terrifying Akuma, the one who would finally level Paris and rip the Miraculous off of those pesky heroes once and for all! And who knows, if she succeeded perhaps Gabriel would give her the privilege of being his apprentice in his new perfect world. Her designs had been pretty good and he was nothing if not practical.

There was of course one, tinsy tiny problem however with Marinette Dupain-Cheng. And that was to put it simply that she was perhaps TOO brilliant, creative, determined, and quick on her feet. Every time he thought he finally had her something would go wrong! First, it was that useless excuse for a ‘teacher’ getting in the way, then Mayura failed him! Then Marinette had seemingly caught on and adapted! Bullied? Nope, she thought positive thoughts and spent time with friends. Property destroyed? She’d fix it and make it nicer than before! Lied about? She'd clear her name by the end of the day! Stolen from? She’d always find a fix! Each and every attempt was simply a hurdle the girl overcame!

Even Lila and Adrien had failed him! The sausage headed brat had been trying to crack Marinette near religiously but she had yet to produce real results, if she framed the girl some proof would appear to clear her, if she bullied the girl Marinette would simply walk away to calm down, physical assault had not even been enough to break her. And Adrien… Well, he had no idea that his father was trying to manipulate him so his failures were at least forgivable but even then nothing he did worked. He’d tried several times to produce a jealousy akuma out of Marinette pairing his own son off with Kagami and occasionally even letting the Italian leech hang off his son but Marinette never budged, it wasn’t that she wasn’t jealous or even angry it was just that she cared too much for other people, with Kagami the baker girl had backed off and even aided out in their budding relationship her feelings of kindness and friendship out shadowing her jealousy. And with Lila? Well, Marinette was more concerned with Adrien’s emotional and physical well-being, and after seeing what the liar’s fake nails had done to his son's arms Gabriel could understand why. As a last resort, Gabriel had tried forbidding Adrien from ever seeing the girl again hoping that would do it, but not even 5 minutes later he had undone the command when Adrien threatened to quit modeling and blast his father on social media… Needless to say, Gabriel wasn’t sure where his son had gotten the backbone for such a move but he felt like blaming Marinette for that as well.

Yes. Gabriel Agreste had tried everything to akumatize Marinette Dupain-Cheng and nothing had worked. Now at 17, the girl was still going strong showing no cracks in her armor. Well… He had tried ALMOST everything. There was one thing, one last little thing he had yet to try… And that was ruining the young girl's dream. Now Gabriel did not truly wish to squash such talent, but of course, he didn’t really NEED to. Yes, it was perfect. He would invite the youngest Dupain-Cheng into his home for an interview with a prospective internship on the line. He would warm her up by poking and prodding at her design portfolio, then he would accuse her of stealing the designs from Lila Rossi, and finally, he would claim to be blacklisting her entirely from the very world of fashion! No doubt THAT the very destruction of her dreams would finally produce the Akuma he needed to secure victory. If she succeeded he would favor her in his new perfect world as a reward, and if she failed… Well then he could claim he had ‘seen the truth’ while she was akumatized and undo the damage, there was no sense in actually ruining the girls promising career after all.

With his plan set Gabriel ordered Nathalie to make the arrangements. Come Saturday afternoon Marinette Dupain-Cheng would finally be akumatized.

However, Gabriel was hit with his first surprise, or perhaps his first ‘warning’ when Nathalie entered his office to inform him that Saturday was NOT on the table. In a shocking and rare turn, Marinette had somehow negotiated Nathalie to schedule the interview for Friday instead. Forcing the assistant to re-organize Gabriel’s entire schedule. When Gabriel had asked why this had happened Nathalie had seemed unlike herself, flustered and unsure, apparently Marinette had been very firm about having very important Saturday plans she would not even consider changing and had stated simply and sharply that her only free time would be Friday this week or Gabriel would need to wait another two weeks for her next availability. Hearing that was a shock, Gabriel had NEVER once needed to reschedule himself for others! No! They rescheduled for HIM. But fine, perhaps the sentimental girl had some idiotic family get together she felt she could not say no to it didn’t really matter in fact Friday meant he’d get his Akuma an entire day earlier. Fine then, Friday it was.

The second surprise had come Friday itself. When Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng arrived perfectly on time. Gabriel was the one caught with his pants down as he had expected the girl to be late with what Adrien had told him of the girl's tardiness record. He and Nathalie were left scrambling to get the office in order while Marinette sat in the hall. Gabriel would review the security footage later and note that the young designer did not gawk or stare at his opulent manor but rather eyed everything critically and with an air of absolute boredom as if she had a million other things she would rather be doing. Had Gabriel seen this expression on the young woman's face beforehand he might have noted it as his second warning that things were not going to go as he expected them to.

Finally, the office looked impeccable and Nathalie invited the young woman in. Gabriel stood behind his desk, his face an emotionless mask but his mind reaching out using the magic granted to him by Nooroo to feel for the young woman's emotions so he could better guide this in the way he desired. However when the young woman entered he was not overcome by the tsunami of nerves and emotions he expected rather it was like an ice front had hit his office. Gabriel was shocked, he could not for the life of him read the girl she was a perfect wall of flawless gleaming ice with no cracks for him to exploit, even her eyes which he had seen in photos and through his Akuma's vision were not what he expected. In every picture, Adrien had tried to show him the young woman's eyes were warm and sweet but now those bluebell orbs had frosted over regarding him with a sharp and pointed stare as if she could read his thoughts. As the two exchanged pleasantries and shook hands Gabriel waited for her to situate herself before he did the same taking a second to share a brief glance with Nathalie who seemed just as confused and put off by the young woman's behavior as he was.

Feeling nervous Gabriel decided to open with some small talk hoping to find a crack that would allow him to feel the young woman's emotions so he politely asked a question about how she'd been. She responded curtly and politely that she was fine but busy, he asked about her parents and their business, she cooly responded that they were opening a second location, finally, he complimented her outfit asking if she designed it herself. He expected to feel SOMETHING from the girl exhilaration at being complimented by someone she admired, nervous about him pointing it out, anything! Instead, the wall of ice remained cool and shimmering as ever as she told him that she had indeed designed the outfit herself and that she was pleased it met his standards. And it did, she wore silky black palazzo pants that flowed gently at the bottom but was clearly tailored to her exact centimeter around her hips, her top had some clear Asian inspirations with a modern twist, it was flawlessly fitted but seemed comfortable and easy to move in. It was white with pink and gold hand painted sakura flowers and some embroidery detailing that were certainly done by hand, to match she had pink lips and pristine white heels, her hair was down but perfectly in place, she was the very image of a professional confidant woman all at the young age of 17.

They chatted a while longer with Gabriel asking her about her design process and if she’d painted on the details of her shirt but still there was no crack in the ice keeping her emotions from Gabriel’s prying mind. The only emotion he could read from the girl was in her body language and it was clear she was losing her patience as Gabriel avoided the reason she was here. Clearing his throat awkwardly and sparing another quick glance at Nathalie who looked just as lost as himself. He finally settled in his chair and they began.

It was a rather standard interview at first, as Gabriel did not want to play his cards too quickly and was hoping that if he was patient the ice guarding the woman's emotions would thaw. He asked to see her sketches while they spoke and she easily handed over a professional-looking sketchbook, as he flipped through it he would occasionally pause to ask questions about her design process or inspiration, they were lovely sketches and truthfully Gabriel was hard-pressed to find anything wrong with them, but for the sake of his plan, he acted unimpressed and even critical of her designs. If it bothered her, she made no show of it much to Gabriel’s annoyance. He began to press harder, asking her if she could truly handle an internship under someone of his caliber, then he asked what her grades were, how he could trust her around his son as he’d heard some unsavory rumors about her character from a trustworthy employee. If anything he said bothered her, she never let it show her face a cool mask of professional disinterest. Gabriel tried not to grind his teeth, this was NOT going as he planned, as he prepared to accuse her of stealing Lila’s designs the young designer held up her hand to silence him.

“Monsieur Agreste, you have been asking a lot of questions. May I ask one of my own?”

Her voice was calm but Gabriel could hear the tiniest bit of ice in her tone. Perhaps his prodding was working after all. Either way, he nodded for her to continue, she straightened just the littlest bit before settling Gabriel with an icy look.

“I would like to know why you believe YOU are qualified to be my mentor.”

Gabriel blinked once. Then twice. He was quite sure his mouth was open in shock. He glanced again at Nathalie; his assistant seemed to be mirroring his own feelings and expressions. Finally, he swallowed and his mouth felt dry.

“Pardon me?” The girl in front of him blinked at him as if he were a rather idiotic child.

“I asked: WHY do you think you're qualified to mentor me. Monsieur Agreste.” Her voice was pure ice now and he suppressed a shiver.

He sat up straighter leveling the girl with an icy look of his own trying not to let his shock show.

“And what makes you think it is acceptable to ask me such a question Miss Dupain-Cheng?”

“Well… This is an interview is it not? Did you think I would simply agree to work for you without checking if you are up to my standards?”

Gabriel suppressed a strangled sound of insult as the red hot feeling of anger rose within him as he absorbed the young woman's words. But even still he could not suppress all of it.

“I beg your pardon!” She gave him a critical look but altogether a bored one.

“I do not mean to offend, Monsieur Agreste. But you are not the first to offer me an internship, currently, I have about 5 different offers on my table, the most notable being with the Style Queen herself and La Mode’s head designer Edna. I want to make an… Educated decision. And frankly, the only reason I am here today is as a favor to your son Adrien, who asked me to give you a chance. So again I will ask, what makes YOU Gabriel Agreste more qualified to mentor me, than Audrey Bourgeois or Edna Mode?”

Gabriel was left feeling very much like he had been caught with his pants down. Marinette Dupain-Cheng already had other offers? And with the top jewels of the fashion world's crown?! How? When!? Surely if Miss Dupain-Cheng had made any significant leaps in the world of fashion he and Nathalie would know about it… Right? I mean, true he had taken a step back from the world in his pursuit of the Miraculous and perhaps he had not been as involved in his own business lately. But he had both Lila and Nathalie on the outside yet they had said nothing about the young girl and her fashion career. Frantically searching for something to say to get the interview back on track and heading the way he wanted Gabriel’s eyes landed on the colorful designer bag Marinette had with her. He had noticed it seemed tailor-made to go with her outfit now taking a closer look at it he noticed the subtle detail of ‘MDC’ in golden lettering. No… No, he could not have missed it. Nathalie could not have missed it! MDC was known as Jagged Stone’s and Clara Nightingale's personal designer the mysterious presence had been a thorn in Gabriel’s side snatching his more famous clientele. But now it was clear. MDC was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. The girl he’d been planning to threaten with a fashion world blacklist and accusations of falsifying her designs was his up and coming competitor. Gabriel swallowed thickly trying to think of how he could spin this situation in his favor now. Nathalie who was unaware that MDC was sitting in front of him could offer no help.

“Well, Miss Dupain-Cheng as I'm sure you are aware, I was once very much in the same situation as yourself, I built my own company from the ground up after I was done training with my own mentor. I could show you how a successful business is built up and run. And I could help you polish your designs.”

The girl nodded thoughtfully and pulled out a small notebook and pen scribbling down something he could not see. Gabriel ignored Nathalie’s looks of confusion and his own growing anger. This was not how he wanted things to go but knowing what he now knew he needed to play his cards carefully, perhaps he could get the girl to intern under him then wear her down until she became possible to akumatize? Yes, that might work! Marinette cleared her throat and Gabriel focused on her again.

“So you could give me an excellent perspective on building my own business and running it… I assume this means you have a plan to get your own business back from the brink of failure then?”

Gabriel choked. His eyes near bulging out of his head as his mind fought to comprehend what had just been said. Marinette for her part simply arched a well-maintained eyebrow in response.

“I do apologize if that was direct. It's just… Well looking at your sales numbers in recent seasons shows a continuing decline in sales, not to mention the number of celebrities seen wearing Gabriel originals has dropped significantly. I will not be interning on a sinking ship Monsieur Agreste surely you understand?”

A quick glance to Nathalie gave him a nod of confirmation that the young woman's words were true. He hadn’t even noticed…

“Of course I have a plan to increase sales. I have been taking a… Creative break. So to speak in order to properly mourn my wife and come up with fresh new ideas.”

It was a bald-faced lie that had crawled its way out of his throat and through his teeth. But it seemed to satisfy the young designer who scribbled a few more notes down before again returning her icy gaze to his face.

“I assume this plan also involves cleaning up the rampant abuse your company is known for then?”

“EXCUSE ME?!” It was Nathalie that time, her face pale and her eyes wide though Gabriel very much agreed with the sentiment.

“Oh? Your secretary was unaware? Hm.” The designer jotted something down continuing to speak as she wrote. “It’s well known in the world of fashion, you have mass turn over in your employee’s they complain that you don't take accusations of sexual assault seriously, that your harsh and overly demanding on your employee’s, that you foster an environment in which abusers and bullies can easily get their way. And that's not even touching on the rumors surrounding the pedophilia, sex scandals, and your abusive behavior toward your own son.”

At those words, Gabriel could take no more his chair let out a screech as he leaped up and slammed his hand down on his desk the loud bang ringing out through the room. To her credit, Marinette did not jump or flinch at the sudden noise. Nathalie however, did.

“That is quite enough Miss Dupain-Cheng! I will not have you coming into my home leveling such blatant and false accusations about my business and personal life!”

The young designer's eyes became impossibly icier and she stood calmly flipping her little notepad closed as she leveled Gabriel with a glare that sent ice into his spine and made him swallow. He swore the room temperature somehow went below zero yet he felt the need to remove his jacket, his body feeling impossibly hot and sweaty.

“In that case. I think I've seen everything I need to make my decision. Do not contact me again Monsieur Agreste I have no interest in maintaining any business relations with a man of your… Type.”

Her words were pure venom yet still he felt no anger coming from her, and now she was trying to leave all at once Gabriel found reality slapping him in the face. His Akuma, his glorious Akuma the one that would lead to his victory he NEEDED it. Nathalie as if reading his mind stepped in front of the door, blocking the young woman's path, Gabriel took a calming breath and fixed his tie. He needed to refocus on the task at hand, he had let the girl get to him but no more he would get the upper hand he WOULD get his Akuma.

“I am afraid we are not done here yet Miss Dupain-Cheng. You see we still have yet to discuss the REAL reason I called you here today.” He didn’t miss a beat, didn't give the girl time to interject. “You see one of my models. A Miss Lila Rossi, claims that you have stolen her designs from her. And having looked at your sketchbook I can now confirm her suspicions. I do wonder what your other potential mentors would think of you being a thief.”

It was a risky lie. Well… Not completely. Lila Rossi had tried to claim Marinette’s work as her own a few times before. Obviously Gabriel never believed the girl, but right now the Italians lie’s were ones he was willing to overlook if it got him what he wanted. And he was sure it was, as finally, the snappy icy Miss Dupain-Cheng was frozen, her expression hidden by her hair but her stiff body was trembling ever so slightly. Finally, Gabriel was back in control.

The girl's body trembled more and more and Gabriel briefly wondered if she was crying or shaking with rage but then he heard it... She was making an odd sound that was growing louder until Gabriel realized what it was… Marinette was laughing. It wasn’t a normal sort of laugh, rather it was a hollow dark sound the type of laugh that belonged to villains in cartoons the type of laugh that sent dread into a person's body, and all at once, the victorious smirk on Nathalie and Gabriel’s faces dropped as Marinette laughed louder and harder. When she finished she wiped tears from her eyes before she settled her icy glare back onto Gabriel a sinister smirk playing on her lips.

“Can I get that in writing Monsieur Agreste?” If she sounded venomous before she sounded downright deadly now. But Gabriel held himself tall and firm.

“This is not a joke Miss Dupain-Cheng. I will not tolerate you stealing from my company.”

“Oh, I am being serious Monsieur Agreste. Do you think this is the first time Rossi has tried to play this game with me?” She scoffed. ��Please. I have grown used to her childish ways. Last time I sent my lawyer with a cease and desist order to her house. But if you believe your little ‘muse’ so much then it seems I will need to hit her a little harder to make my message crystal clear. I don’t have much tolerance for liars, Monsieur Agreste least of all little gold-digging ones.”

“M-My muse?” Gabriel suddenly felt a part of his stomach drop. Something about what was just said was clearly very wrong.

“Yes. Your ‘muse’ that's what Lila has been calling herself since she began working for you two years ago. Where do you think the rumors of pedophilia came from Monsieur Agreste?” He choked, but she only hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps you should be more careful who you hire. Especially considering how she sexually assaults your son. But you already knew about THAT and didn’t fire her. So perhaps she really IS your ‘muse’ then.”

Gabriel could hear the unspoken threat in her words daring him to push the issue and face her wrath and knew he was now playing a very dangerous game. He had known that Lila enjoyed hanging off his son and he had told her off about the wounds she left with her nails and that had stopped, but even after that Adrien had tried to speak with him a few times about Lila but he’d ignored it she was too useful as an ally, but now she may have ended up being his Trojan horse. And if the gleam in Marinette’s eyes and the dangerous smile on her lips was anything to go by the young designer knew it. Nathalie was looking paler the longer this went on. Gabriel knew he needed to save himself now, Akuma be damned he’d be useless to his wife if he lost everything before managing to bring her back.

He cleared his throat. “Now… Perhaps I have been a bit... Hasty? In my accusation of you Miss Dupain-Cheng. I was unaware of Miss Rossi’s dubious nature and words. Or her actions toward my son, perhaps you would consid-”

“How DARE you!” All at once, he was hit with the raw force of Marinette’s emotions, her hot boiling anger overcoming him and knocking out his breath. But just as swift as it came the wall of ice consumed them sealing it away once more. “You have a lot of nerve pretending you knew nothing, Monsieur Agreste. When I know for a fact your son and several of your employees have come to you begging and pleading to be listened to. So either you are lying to my face or you really are just that much of a pathetic excuse for a ‘father’.”

He sputtered trying to defend himself, even Nathalie could no longer stand by stepping forward to try and help his defense.

“Oh please. You are a JOKE, Monsieur Agreste. As Adrien’s close friend I know very well the kind of father- no the kind of MAN you are. You are a cold, abusive, manipulative, worm. You ignore your son, neglect him, and treat him as no more than a mannequin for your clothes. The only reason your business hasn’t gone under yet is because you whore your own son out banking on his popularity to keep yourself afloat.”

Gabriel felt anger and a rare sense of shame rush him all at once as he desperately choked out a reply determined to defend himself. Nathalie stepped forward readying herself to help him but he managed to get out his reply before she needed to offer her help.

“I-I am doing no such thing! I love my son and would never allow any harm to come to him!”

Marinette seemed completely unconvinced. Humming thoughtfully she tilted her head to the side locking Gabriel in her cold gaze.

“In that case perhaps you could tell me what you got him for his last birthday? Here’s a hint he didn’t even get a cake or a happy birthday from you.”

Gabriel stuttered stunned that he was being challenged in such a way he glanced to Nathalie looking to her for help but Marinette stepped in the way blocking his view.

“No? Too hard for you? Then perhaps you could tell me when you last had dinner with him?” Nothing. “Hm. Ok, what about when you last spoke with him about something besides his classes, his job, or his extracurriculars?” Nothing. “Oh, then what's your son's favorite food? Or color? What does he want to do when he’s finally 18 and free from you? Does he want to go to college? Does he even LIKE wearing your tacky awful clothing?” Silence. “Nothing huh… Here il go real easy on you. When was the last time you gave your son a hug?” Gabriel stuttered but he was at a loss for words. He didn’t know. “The last hug YOU gave him was several years ago. When I won your bowler hat competition. You haven’t even touched your own son in years, yet you have the nerve to claim you love him? That you seek to protect him? That you would NEVER have let Lila Rossi molest him near constantly had you simply ‘known’ about it.” She crossed her arms. “I am. Unconvinced. Monsieur Agreste.”

Each word was a pointed blade aiming for Gabriel, cutting him down smaller and smaller until he felt like an insect under the young girl's gaze. Yet she offered him no mercy only staring him down as if he were the scum of the earth. And right now, he felt like he very well might be. Nathalie who had been at the ready finally stepped in leveling Marinette with an icy glare of her own, though compared to the designers it was more lukewarm than anything.

“Monsieur Agreste is a very busy businessman, who has been mourning the loss of his wife!”

Marinette scoffed her icy blue eyes roaming up and down his assistant while her face morphed into a look of disgust.

“Of course YOU would defend him Miss Sancoeur. After all, you are complicit in Adrien’s abuse. Feeding him the equivalent of table scraps so he can stay the perfect malnourished model that you both need to fill your bank accounts with cash. And that is not even broaching on the fact that Adrien is quite sure you share his father's bed when you think he's not looking. After all POOR Monsieur Agreste needs some kind of warmth to ‘mourn’ his wife with while he leaves his son to become more and more emotionally damaged.”

It was Nathalie’s turn to be left a gaping, her face impossibly red with shame at the blatant accusation. In fact, neither Nathalie nor Gabriel knew how to defend themselves now. This was so far from how they had foreseen this interview going that they had nothing left with which to defend themselves with. Marinette Dupain-Cheng however seemed far from finished in fact she seemed like she was just getting warmed up.

“Listen Monsieur Agreste, I once admired your work but I now have no choice but to agree with Madame Bourgeois, you have let the death of your wife sour you into a rotten waste of a man, your designs are lackluster, cold and only look good on mannequins, your business is failing, your employees hate you, your neglectful and abusive of the only family you have left, and your stupid enough to have threatened my future career on the lies of a gold digger. I came here today only because I am a close friend of your son who begged me to give you a chance in the hopes I could help salvage your failing company. But I cannot, and I will not work with a man who is as selfish and repulsive as you.”

Checking her watch Marinette let out an annoyed hum clearly she was not pleased with how long this interview had taken. Sidestepping Nathalie who was still struggling to find the words to defend herself. She made her way to the door pausing once her hand was on the handle.

“Oh and Monsieur Agreste. If you're still determined to call yourself a fashion designer… Then the least you could do is stop dressing yourself like a candy cane themed board game mascot, found at a cheap dollar store. It’s an insult to fashion, and I’d even go so far to say that Hawkmoth has made nicer looking Akuma’s and those look like discount cartoon villains from the ’80s. Now do have a good rest of your day. And look out for my lawyers, they will be coming around sometime soon.”

And with that, she was gone. Leaving Gabriel to slump into his seat and hold his head, while Nathalie shakily took the seat across from him that Marinette had just occupied. The secretary was heavily reconsidering her life choices, perhaps her sister had been right when she said Nathalie needed a nice long vacation away somewhere sunny and warm and far from Gabriel to re-evaluate her priorities.

Gabriel however was re-evaluating his life in a much different way as everything that the young woman threw at him sunk into his head. He believed himself a practical man yet Marinette Dupain-Cheng had utterly disassembled his plan, his life, and his actions leaving him feeling like a schoolyard bully who’d just been put in time out by the teacher. He believed himself a realist, yet Marinette Dupain-Cheng had been the one to rip the wool from his eyes and force him to face the ugly reality that he ignored, his business was collapsing, his employees were either jumping ship or were utterly convinced they could get away with blatant abuse, his wife had been comatose for years, his son quite possibly hated him and when he graduated would take his leave destroying the only thing that left his business a fighting chance, and to top it all off he was wearing RED PANTS.

Leaning back in his chair he stared at his ceiling in a hazy state of fleeting thoughts. All he could think was that it has been one hell of an interview.

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#my fic #ml salt #lila salt #gabriel agreste salt #nathalie sancoeur salt #adrien agreste #adrien agreste sugar #protective marinette #bamf marinette #adrien deserves better #ice queen marinette #marinette dupain cheng #gabriel agreste #nathalie sancoeur #fic rec

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zeta-in-de-walls · 3 years

Note

What's the most common misconception you hear about c!tommy?

Hey! Really interesting question, cheers. I’d say that there’s quite a few misconceptions floating around: that he never apologises, that he hasn’t developed, that his exile was his fault, that he’s the main source of conflict on the server, that all he does is steal, and plenty of other stuff.

But the one I probably hear most is how Tommy supposedly values music discs over people.

This one is such a mess of misconceptions. I’ve even heard it said that Doomsday happened because Tommy cared about his discs too much and he was wrong because you shouldn’t value items over human lives. I hate this one because it misunderstands Tommy enough so you can dismiss him because its such a weak position.

Anyway, I understand why its so messy. Tommy throughout season 2 is frequently in a state of uncertainty and is being driven by emotions and isn’t thinking clearly after so much suffering. He says a lot of stuff he doesn’t mean and is very suggestible. Most of his talking about the discs is done when he’s lonely and thinks his friends don’t care for him anymore, that they’re better off without him.

Now, let’s be clear: music discs are something Tommy’s character loves. His happiness every time he listens to one feels very genuine. He’s had so many emotional moments listening to his discs with others and even considers his bench his happy space. He likes them and invites others to listen with him. These items hold no intrinsic value, they’re of no worth to anyone else besides how much they mean to Tommy. The only reason to take them is to try to control him specifically. That’s the original reason Dream took them in the original disc war - to punish Tommy after he caused some trouble.

And the original disc war was fun for Tommy. He found the battle to be exciting and enjoyed trying to outplay Dream with his best friend Tubbo and anyone he could get on his side. It was like a fun game to him. One that, while chaotic, no one really got hurt from at all - the only one who really suffered was Tommy himself, who put stuff on the line for it and had his whole base dug up. (And Tubbo who got dragged in and lost items, but he was initially a very willing partner who found the conflict fun too.)

And then we have Dream, who traded away L’Manburg’s independence for Tommy’s discs, an interesting decision which meant only Tommy really paid the price that day. Everyone remarked on how unusually selfless it was of Tommy. That day was a victory for everyone else, but bittersweet for him. Wilbur consoled him, saying they could get them back and then they’d have even more history and sentimental value attached to them, having been what paid for L’Manburg’s freedom. Tommy was encouraged and so the game continued.

Dream over this time became not just Tommy’s enemy, but his friend. They had fights and conflicts but it was more like a fun game. As they also did stuff like make a church together. Eventually Tommy managed to steal Mellohi back from Dream while Skeppy acquired Cat. At the elections, Tommy gives Mellohi to Wilbur who gives it back again when they’re banished. Months pass and they finally win back L’Manberg and its a wonderful day (until it goes wrong) but Tommy’s not done with his disc war.

This disc war was always a personal thing for Tommy, he’s never wanted others to be dragged in and hurt by it. He kind of takes Tubbo for granted, but Tubbo’s also always been his partner in crime and Tommy enjoys having a war he can fight alongside his best friend - he and Tubbo against Dream. Dream at this point is still seen as a friendly enemy, in spite of choosing Schlatt and helping Wilbur blow up L’Manberg. Anyway, he rejects Presidency, giving it to Wilbur because he trusts him and also wants to focus on his personal battles after so long ignoring it. He doesn’t want others to be dragged in or for his interests to be divided. He’s leaving L’Manburg in safe hands he can trust. That’s season 1 of the SMP, but season 2 is where things get messier.

After the war, Tommy hears that Tubbo had been suspicious that Tommy might’ve been the traitor. In order to show that he trusts him, Tommy gives Tubbo Mellohi. It’s not just a disc now, its a sign of trust, a sign of their bond - at least in Tommy’s eyes.

Then Dream builds obsidian walls around L’Manburg and we first see Tommy showing that bit of selfishness. He states that he’d wanted to step away, that L’Manburg wasn’t his priority anymore. That he’d left it in safe hands so he could focus on the discs. But it doesn’t matter what Tommy intended. Dream is targeting him and is dragging the rest of L’Manburg into it by threatening to seal them in obsidian forever if they don’t comply. Tommy and Tubbo do have a disagreement here, but its not actually so much about the discs.

-Tommy believes that fighting Dream is the superior option, if they ask for help from others in the server - because what he’s doing isn’t right - then they could defeat him, show him that he couldn’t just push them around.

-Tubbo feels like that would get them killed and he doesn’t want to risk their lives. It would be better to appease Dream for now and secretly plot how to take him down later but Tommy’s being too hotheaded.

Tommy brings up the disc to state how he trusts Tubbo and would consider being exiled a betrayal but Tubbo reminds him that they’re just discs and there’s more on the line and Tommy needs to be more cooperative. Anyway, Tommy’s hurt by Tubbo exiling him and think its a sign that he doesn’t care about him anymore. Tubbo meanwhile found it difficult to do but felt like there was no other option but did still care about Tommy. Tubbo would later come to regret doing it while Tommy would later say that it was the right choice when they finally actually talk.

The discs here are kind of a symbol but Tommy doesn’t really value them over others, he’s being a little selfish for sure but that is mostly a result of being treated unfairly by Dream and feeling attacked and ganged up on by his friends, not seeing how they were trying to help him. Dream’s the one to blame here. At worst, Tommy’s being irresponsible in thinking he can just step away from L’Manburg - he didn’t value the discs over it, he just wanted to fight a personal battle without L’Manburg being involved for once. But too many things do matter to him and Dream realised he could attack Tommy through his friends. Its also why Tommy says he didn’t want Tubbo to be President, because he wanted him to be free to help him in his personal war too. There were some issues in their friendship that for sure got exploited and blown out of proportion.

So post-exile. Tommy is rather confused. He’s decided he doesn’t want to die and that Dream wasn’t really his friend, but he still feels abandoned by all his other friends. He still believes they didn’t really care about him after his failed beach party and everything else. And his feelings on Dream are mixed because he knows logically he should hate him but emotionally he still feels like he’s his friend.

Tommy at this point, begins clinging to the discs as some sort of tangible goal while feeling so lonely and abandoned. He has no real sense of agency and really wants Technoblade to give him guidance. Technoblade however wants to destroy L’Manburg and reaffirms his thoughts that Tubbo doesnt really care about him. Tommy is still...kinda(?) clear that he doesn’t want L’Manburg to be destroyed but is willing to compromise on minor terrorism. His remaining belief in L’Manburg is being eroded. You can see in his trips into L’Manburg he is rather unaware of the extent of his actions. He’s suffered and now feels right in lashing out. It seems to be the start of a villain arc even. Right at this point, the discs make more sense than people so they are his goal. And yet even in the midst of his uncertainty, he says the one Tubbo has is safe, he wants to get the one Dream has.

The discs are Tommy’s way of saying he wants to fight Dream. It’s not really about the discs anymore, Dream went way too far with the exile and now Tommy wants to stop him and find it easiest to frame it as going after his music disc.

Then the festival. Tommy finally confronts Tubbo and sees him about to give his disc to Dream. It’s his worst fears confirmed, that Tubbo doesn’t really care about him and that he’s on Dream’s side. They fight and Tommy finally says the line ‘the discs were worth more than you ever were!’

And he regrets it immediately. The statement rang false. They were just discs and Tubbo was his best friend. He immediately tells Tubbo to give up the disc and changes sides then and there. The discs were not more important than people. He was being selfish. And he also remembered how much he cared about L’Manburg and didn’t want it to be blown up no matter what he’d agreed to the day before. He wants to fight for it, choosing his friends once and for all.

In his argument with Techno on Doomsday, he does bring up his discs and words it kind of awkwardly. He tries to explain that ‘nothing had been taken from you, while the discs were stolen from me’ Tommy believes that Techno is destroying something people loved when he could’ve just walked away, he wasn’t fighting for something he loved like Tommy in his wars. That’s what he’s trying to get at, not that music discs are more important than people. Tommy doesn’t actually believe that and prefers wars that don’t hurt others, as the disc wars was once supposed to be before Dream brought in everyone else. Even saying that, Tommy admits he’d messed up so many times in chasing the discs. That he was wrong.

Tommy talks about going after the discs again but at this point it really means taking down Dream. Dream had expressed that he would not stop, he enjoyed their ‘game’ too much. Tommy has nothing left to lose as far as he’s concerned and needs to take down Dream for everything he’d done.

During the disc saga finale, again Tommy always chooses Tubbo first. There’s this one moment where he has Mellohi and could run away forever but he stops and gives it up along with all their items before their taken to the vault and almost forced to watch Tubbo die while he gets thrown in prison forever. But he chooses Tubbo. He always does.

Okay, summary over. I hope that better explains why I dislike the misconception that Tommy chooses his discs over people. He doesn’t really. It’s used to discredit him way too much, I feel. It’s only at his lowest, after being tormented in exile that he even gets close to that position and that’s when he’s on the bring of choosing a dark path and becoming what he hates. At the festival, he rejects that path.

Now that he has his discs, he hasn’t started trouble with them once. They’re safe and he can bring them out to listen to when he’s feeling low, not hurting anyone. They’re just something he loves and its okay to have attachments.

#dream smp #tommyinnit #meta #analysis #replies #aah sorry for the long post #i got carried away #ilike to correct misconceptions #dreamsmp #yeah this is all pretty much tommy's perspective so yeah it is biased #exile arc #but thanks for the ask

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saphirered · 3 years

Note

I thought this would be an interesting twist: After the failed ritual, what if Lucien's s/o ran into Molly? Thank you!

Okay so this one came out quicker than I expected 😅. Little 'twist' at the end because I could not help myself. I hope you enjoy it! 😘

You warned him. You warned him so many times but he wouldn’t bloody listen. Too caught up in his own game for power, never satisfied. But what were you supposed to do? Stop him? No, you’d never. You loved him more than that but you were not prepared to follow him to his own death. Lucien, you idiot how could you? You tried everything but he didn’t come back. The ritual failed. You didn’t want to uphold your part of the bargain. You knew this mage had ulterior motives and after being granted a peak of those pages she wouldn’t back down.

The woman wanted it all for herself and Lucien stood between her and that power the Eyes of Nine had to offer. Knowing the Tombtakers would follow Lucien to the extremes they would also accept the risks of this ritual and would be content but disappointed should it fail. With what you had seen you knew it shouldn’t fail. You had warned Lucien of your suspicions but his own arrogance made him blind to the consequences of this all. He wouldn’t listen and you were becoming an obstacle so when the ritual was to go down you weren’t there.

Lucien has slipped away from your warm embrace in the dead of night to perform the ritual and of course Vess messed with it, assuring he wouldn’t be able to return to his body therefor as per the agreement, she’d take the book as payment. It was too late when you found him, already dead. No amount of healing or revivification could bring him back to you. You had to accept that but you could enact revenge on the bitch that took him away from you. You’ll have her wishing she was the one in a shallow grave instead.

The Tombtakers diverged, finding their own paths. Cree tried to take you with her but you wouldn’t. You had your own task to complete. After that you could rest. Making the arrangements, finding allies where you could, earning and cashing in favours from anyone of power or resources you could left you with quite the arsenal at your disposal but you couldn’t just walk into the capital of the Dwendalian Empire and murder one of the archmages of the Cerberus Assembly. You had to be patient, lay low and let everyone think you moved on.

Still you visited the grave whenever you could. There was a comfort in the hope that maybe, wherever he was he could hear you. Lucien would probably scold you for going on a revenge path against one of the most powerful magic users on the continent all by your lonesome. He’s one to talk. Nevermind, you told him about your adventures, and hoping to acquire the resources to attempt to bring him back. You won’t give up hope.

Then you returned, returned to find the grave empty. You followed the tracks but they lead you nowhere. You had to find him. You had to find Lucien before anyone else did because what might they do? What state would he be in? Does this mean he’s already ascended? Would this mean he’d truly fully become the Nonagon for once and for all? But most of all, you just want him back in your arms knowing he’d be safe. You’d scour Exandria to find him.

There you are standing in a dark alleyway, hood blocking direct view of your face as you’re quite literally in the middle of a back alley deal. You’re no stranger to the shady business and shady people can most often be found in these places. You pay your contact in exchange for the information your requested, satisfied with the results. You hear commotion on the main street. Guards. Parting from your contact you wait for the guards to pass. That’s when you notice a lavender tiefling bolt past you. A very familiar lavender tiefling.

Confusion, relief, heartache, panic, happiness, disappointment, a wave of emotion hits you in a way you’re not even sure how you’re supposed to feel at this point. Many questions accompany those feelings. What are you supposed to do? Well, go after him of course! If Lucien’s back and he’s being chased by guards, that’s not a good thing for the current situation. Sticking to the shadows you trail along. Lucien may just have lost his touch but perhaps the city is an unfamiliar one to him and alone, he doesn’t know the way. The tattoos are new, so are the rather colourful clothes but you know he never does anything without reason.

You figure out where he’s going, the direction at least and from your own past encounters here you know the side alleys. You take a path that should have you end up ahead of him. You’ll have to take a few rooftops and private yards but it’s the quickest and you’ve done it plenty of times. Once you get in place you take off your cloak, get ready. You hear the guards shouting for reinforcements. The closer he gets from around the corner you can see the smug grin filled with mischief as he runs. You’ve missed that one.

The moment comes and you grab onto him as he passes pulling him into the alley with you, wrapping your cloak around him and pulling the hood up. Hands on both sides of his face you look at him closely. There’s confusion in his eyes as they focus on you. He’s already out of breath but you pull him into a deep kiss. Lucien hits the wall behind him and readjusts the hood of the cloak to keep his face covered. The response to the kiss only comes with the sound of the guards drawing near and is very confused. The guards pass by. They glance into the alley but awkwardly turn back to following the street upon seeing the two of you together.

As soon as they’re gone Mollymauk breaks away from you. He’s breathing heavily more from the run than the kiss you shared. He’s very confused. Indifferent to being kissed by a stranger, this… unexpected to say the least. He’s got no idea who you are but you saved his ass so you’re alright in his books at the moment. That doesn’t mean he’s not wary of you. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you know him, or well whoever he used to be and with the conflicting emotions running through you he’ll have to think fast to spin his bullshit correctly.

“You have no idea how happy I am you’re alive. Does this mean it worked after all? Did you succeed?” You run your thumbs over Lucien’s cheekbones as he holds onto your wrists lightly. The pressure in your chest grows heavier as you await his answer.

“It did. I did. It didn’t go as planned but I’m here now.” Molly works his charm like his life depends on it because he entertains the thought it might. Your touch, there’s something eerily familiar about it, akin to being reminded of a distant long forgotten dream. Hazy but it feels real. He still has no idea who you are and there’s no bells ringing either. While he much rather run far away avoiding any and all connections to a past not his, he cannot help but commend whoever came before him. The one that got buried definitely had a good taste in lovers? Friends? Molly’s not going to assume even though you kissed him quite passionately.

Your chest clenches and it feels as if your breath won’t leave your body, your blood stopping in your veins, like you got hit by an extra dimensional force attempting to pull everything away from you. You listen to Lucien’s words. It looks like him but why do you feel like you hear someone else? It’s not an illusion or some trick you’re sure. If it were your enemies would have known to pick a better imposter and you’d have been dead already. Your own mind fights against this train of thought, justifying it. Lucien had been dead for weeks until you found the empty grave. Of course there were bound to be side effects or even consequences to the ritual. But then again, it had been two years since then. Two years to recover from whatever happened…

“You don’t know me, do you?” Speaking the words out loud breaks your heart. You don’t fight the pain they cause. There’s no tears. You’ve already grieved Lucien once. You’re not doing it again. This will be nothing more than a painful reminder, a cruel joke from the gods behind the divine gate. Why must the fates torture you so for nothing more than loving an ambitious man reaching for the stars and beyond?

“No. I’m sorry.” Molly can’t help but feel your pain. It’s clear you cared a great amount about his predecessor, the way you speak reveals intense heartbreak at the passing of that one. It also shows acceptance that whoever he used to be is gone and you’ve come to terms with that a while ago. That’s enough for him to recognise you won’t hurt him. Molly had never felt sorry for the death of who he used to be and he won’t start now but he does feel sorry for you. This whole situation is messed up.

You close your eyes and nod, dropping your hands and take a step back. No matter how much your heart may tell you to be close to this tiefling, your mind knows it’s not Lucien. You cannot in good conscious hang onto whatever remains. It’s not fair you him, to Lucien but most of all not fair to yourself. Do you wish it was Lucien standing here in front of you? Of course you do. You’d do anything to get him back but what would directing all your pain achieve directed at this new person in the same body? It would accomplish nothing but more pain. You can’t imagine this tiefling in front of you doesn’t have any friends, loved ones, people who care about him. You weren’t going to put you don’t know how many others through the same pain you’ve been put through.

“I am as much of a ghost of the past to you as you are to me.” You’ve come to the conclusion that based of his responses there may not be any recognition, there is an unknown familiarity to you on his end. Perhaps the final slivers of Lucien remaining but nothing more than a fleeting memory. A hand reaches out for yours. You allow him to take your hand and he rubs circles in the back of it with his thumb in an attempt to bring you some comfort. It’s a gesture out of kindness. Not out of selfish intent or with the expectancy to get something out of it, like Lucien would when faced with a stranger he clearly had the upper hand over.

“You seem to have cared for my predecessor, Lucien, quite a lot. I truly am sorry.” You offer him a saddened smile as a silent thank you. He knows Lucien’s name so he must have learned something of the past. You gather it hasn’t been much and most definitely is second hand knowledge by his lack of information on the ritual, who he used to be, everything really.

“You know his name?” The sentence is voiced somewhere in between a question and a statement.

“A blood cleric named Cree. She ran into us-me and mistook me for him. I played along but I don’t think she really bought it. She didn’t reveal much.” The name of the tabaxi alone is enough to make your blood boil. If Cree had known for however long, why hadn’t she gotten in contact with you? You know exactly why and are debating wether or not you could do with a new fur rug. You also acknowledge that Cree is a risk and this new-not Lucien will have to watch his back.

“Since you’re not Lucien nor do you seem to be using that name, what do I call you?”

“Mollymauk Tealeaf or simply Molly to my friends.” The tiefling-Mollymauk smiles at you, a genuine smile. You have to appreciate the small gestures of comfort and kindness.

“I would give you my own name but for both of our sakes I won’t. You may refer to me as an old friend. I know I have no right to but may I ask you a favour?”

Mollymauk nods. As always he leaves a place better than he found it, tries to bring joy and happiness wherever he can even if that means making a fool of himself. Very few times has he been faced with someone who needs his help as much as you do. While there’s definitely limits to what he can provide, you deserve some compassion. Especially after the shitty cards life had dealt to you. He’ll try to ease that if he can.

“May I- May I ask you to tell me about your life, Mollymauk?” Not the request he expected. Then again, to be fair he didn’t really know what to expect. A kiss maybe? Stick along for a while? Perhaps even a final goodbye so you could close this chapter once and for all? But of all the things you asked about him. Not Lucien. Him.

“It’s a long story…” Molly drifts off reminiscing the wild ride of the past two years, especially the events of the last few months upon joining the Mighty Nein and the adventures they had already gone on; were currently on but if you really wanted to hear all about that, he’d tell you.

“I have plenty of time. How about we walk and talk? Get you back to your traveling companions? Your friends? And if there’s still plenty more to tell, if you want to you can tell me over a few drinks. My treat.” You feel within yourself you’d better be able to let go knowing this Mollymauk is happy and lives content. Lucien might be gone but Mollymauk deserves a good life free of Lucien’s burdens. You’ll do what you can to assure that.

“Never tell a story for free. That sounds like a good deal.” Molly offers you his arm and when you hesitate, expects you not to take it but to his surprise you do. There’s something strangely comforting about the whole ordeal. You’re both strangers to each other but it still feels like you have known each other for years.

On your way to where Mollymauk is staying he feels no need to hold back or deceive and instead tells you what happened to him; how he woke up, dug himself out of a grave and was found by a kind man, joined the circus, became a fortune teller, made friends along the way, found a family, many tales of the mischief he was up to, leaving every place better than he found it. You had some good laughs and were able to ask some questions throughout. All in all you came to the conclusion Mollymauk’s life hasn’t been an easy one but it was a good one and he was happy.

Then he found this group of strangers in a tavern somewhere in Trostenwald. His old family was torn away in the wreckage of a devil toad but he found a new one in these strangers. The Mighty Nein. Their time together has been but a few months but they already feel like family and he’d do anything for them. They might be assholes but they’re good people.

You got to meet them. Molly- as he keeps insisting because you are his friend now, introduced you to this Mighty Nein as he thought it best you heard some of these stories from their mouths too for the sake of perspective. He introduced you to them as such; an old friend from the past. The details were left blurry but Molly’s confidence was enough to leave them at the very least accepting and not mistrusting you. They shared their stories with you. They needed him. They may have come far from the assholes they were, but they still had a ways to go. You knew you could not tear that away from him nor did you feel right to join them, even if temporarily.

It’s time for you to say goodbye. You bid your farewell to the Mighty Nein and while they would ask you to stay just a little longer, you know you cannot. You will not insert yourself into their lives based on the merits of your own lies and life. They are free so let them be free. Molly walks you out so you may have one final conversation before you leave his world behind you.

“You don’t have to go yet. They enjoy your company and honestly, they could learn a thing or two from you.” Molly offers as you stand outside of the tavern, the sky since having grown dark and the stars out. The air is cool, winter is drawing near, before you know it the frost will stick to the ground and you’ll be back in Shadycreek plotting the demise of a certain Cerberus Assembly member. You’ll have to leave this all behind.

“You know I can’t. For all of our sakes.” You offer Molly a smile. You’re happy with what you got to see, the stories you were told but this is where it ends and that’s okay. Molly knows it too. Sometimes it’s better to let go than to hang on. You have your own life just as he has his.

“So I guess this is goodbye then.” Molly takes hold of both of your hands and squeezes lightly before he pulls you in for a hug. You return the embrace. Pulling apart enough to look him in the eyes you stroke his cheek, tracing the tattoos fanning up his neck and jaw.

“I am still but a ghost of the past. A ghost I will remain. I wish you a good life, Mollymauk Tealeaf. May we one day meet again.” You kiss his cheek and despite the appearance of Lucien, it doesn’t feel the same. Despite how it may sound, you’re happy it doesn’t. You step out of Molly’s arms.

“May we meet again.” The words Molly speaks are like a breath upon the wind as you walk backwards, one final look at the lavender tiefling as you blend into the darkness, fading like a ghost.

There may be many more things Molly would like to ask you. He’d like to get to know you and the thought that maybe one day he might, sounds like a good day in his mind. You have your own business to take care of first but maybe one day you will meet again. For now a ghost of the past he doesn’t recall you will remain…

——————

But a few months later you find your way back on the road to Shadycreek Run. There you found a grave marker along the Glory Run Road… The marker held a colourful ostentatious red coat embellished to the nines. It appears to have been left to the weather for some time but you recognise it. Hit with a sense of dread you approach the grave already knowing who it belongs to. The least you can do is pay your final respects to the friend you never got to know more.

You dismount your horse guiding it the reins closer to the marker. That’s definitely Molly’s coat. There’s no denying that now. You walk further up the hill offering a silent prayer to the Moonweaver who Molly admitted to being a follower of.

Approaching the grave you see it dug up. You expect grave robbers, thieves of some kind as you brush your fingers over the fabric of the coat. You get a glance of the grave and see it empty instead. Not robbed; empty. No body, nothing but the marker and the coat. Down the other side of the hill you see a figure, a lavender tiefling, tapestry draped around him watching the skies. The back is turned to you so the tiefling doesn’t see you. A wave of both relieve and dread washes over you as you are met with your own ghost of the past.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #critical role #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein #mollymauk x reader #lucien x reader

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egg-emperor · 3 years

Note

not sure if you didn't get my ask the first time but what about Sonic X , version of Eggman? its Yuji Naka's vision and he isn't that evil as many of the other characters that appear in the series, I would really love to hear what you think about it as an Eggman fan

Oh I did get your ask, I was just trying to think of the best way to word my answer.

X Eggman has a very special place in my heart for being one of my first pieces of Sonic media, aside from Heroes and Shadow 2005. As you may know, that two games didn't have that much Eggman in them and his character was being mistreated with the way he was being sidelined. But something about Eggman was already appealing to me and I wanted to see more of him, so I watched X before getting any other games. It was one of the first bigger looks I got at Eggman as a result.

X really helped me fall in love with Eggman because I got to see much more of him and how charming, funny, and evil he can be. Literally every time he was on screen he made me smile and laugh, I just found him so entertaining. I still do to this day and I rewatch it annually. But it wasn't the idea they tried to push of him being 'not that evil' or capable of doing good that appealed to me about his character from the very beginning. I loved all the evil and assholic things he did throughout the show.

He still had evil, selfish, and rude moments that made him look like a big dick and I loved it. The idea of him suddenly caring for Sonic and friends later on came out of nowhere and I don't like how it was handled, so I like to imagine it was just another one of his acts to get on their good side, so they could all defeat the Metarex. I know that wasn't really the case and I'm not very happy about it. It was random and out of nowhere and it contradicts things that Eggman did in this very show. It downplays his villainy for no good reason.

I think the "when you actually hurt them, that's going too far" line was one of the most ridiculous things to come out of Eggman's mouth of all people. It makes him so hypocritical, even when it comes to his portrayal in the show because he still hurt plenty, attempted to kill Sonic and friends, tried to blow up Station Square, and did countless other terrible destructive things, and there's no way that multiple of his plans didn't result in collateral damage.

Chris wasn't even the exception either because remember when he jumped onto Eggman's Egg Mobile in an attempt to take the emerald, and when he grabbed Eggman's mustache, he shook him off and sent him plummeting to his doom? Where was the good in his heart when he allowed the twelve year old to fall and almost die and only cared about the fact that he'd just accidentally let the emerald fall with him? It doesn't seem very kind and caring to me, but very in character selfish, as he should be. So yeah, he's one to talk in that scene when he's even put Chris in harm's way himself.

In the Japanese version of that line, he said he doesn't hurt hostages. But what I think would've be more in character would be that he just wouldn't care if hostages get hurt, as long as they're still alive to use as the bait. I said in the little rant that I slipped into my Eggman X supercut season 3 video that the only way I could really see the scene working was if Eggman was just pretending to take the moral high ground just to piss off the Metarex or something. Because otherwise it just really doesn't make sense.

I despise the Metarex for being boring villains with generic designs. They really wanted us to think they were amazing, powerful, and scary but they were try hard and had no interesting motive. Eggman made them look stupid by pointing out how their plan doesn't make sense and results in destroying planets so they won't have anything to rule over and prove their power to. They have a boring motive, unlike Eggman who has an egotistical dream that he'll go to great lengths to accomplish, rather than just being "haha I'm so evil I'm going to destroy everything for no reason"

It feels like just another case of Eggman's villainy being downplayed in an attempt to emphasize how much better of a villain and bigger of a threat others are supposed to be, which I'm never a fan of because it's not true. Eggman isn't innocent compared to them, he just has a better plan that doesn't involve just destroying the world. And when you have to either put Eggman down or make him act OOC so he doesn't seem as evil, then they're clearly not good villains that can prove themselves on their own. Other villains shouldn't take away from Eggman, instead we should be told why we should see these villains as a dangerous threat like Eggman.

I can't take away the idea that 'oh Eggman is actually a kind and caring guy compared to the big scary super evil Metarex' away from the scene. He's a terrible person too, the only reason he frowns upon the Metarex's acts isn't because he has a good heart, it's because they're going to destroy everything he wants to conquer. Eggman has always been selfish and only cared about what he wants and he doesn't care who gets hurt as long as he gets it. This even applied to X Eggman himself earlier on in the show.

If he was truly a good guy, why wasn't he holding back and showing care from the start? When people were getting hurt because of his actions and he was intentionally trying to kill others, why were there so many moments of him clearly enjoying it? And if it was supposed to be seen as some type of character development, they didn't do a very good job at showing it because him actually being concerned for others came out of nowhere. And even so, I just don't think it works for Eggman because if there isn't some secret evil and selfish motive behind his actions, it just makes him a big hypocrite.

But besides that bothering me because it's not the kind of development I think Eggman should have, I love X Eggman for many other reasons in a way that I can rewatch the show without it getting to me much. But I still really wish they would've done some things differently because earlier on it seemed like they had the right idea but had to bring that whole twist out of nowhere which I just don't think suits a deeply selfish, narcissistic, dangerous man that lacks empathy. (Because yes, there were even blatant moments in X that showed Eggman's low empathy was still there. That's how he does the things he does without shame.)

And one thing that stops me from being as bitter about it in the end is that, despite who was involved with X in Japan, it's still clearly very separate from the games. Just like how Boom Eggman, who is also portrayed as being a nicer Eggman, is entirely separate. Game universe Eggman has done a lot more evil, selfish, fucked up catastrophic shit than both X and Boom Eggman combined and clearly has no ounce of remorse. That's why I've never been a fan of people attempting to merge the separate universes/canons together when they just don't work.

There's nothing in the games that implies game Eggman has this same mindset and ability to care about anyone other than himself, unlike X or Boom Eggman. And even though X Eggman was the first time I got to see a version of him really in action, it didn't shape my view of him in the games because I could recognize the differences. I'm happy that it didn't affect his game portrayal because I already think those moments in X were OOC enough for X Eggman when they contradict his actions, so it would've made even less sense for him in the game universe.

The concept of him being not such a bad guy doesn't need to be a part of his character to make him charming, lovable and entertaining to me. He's perfect just the way he is as the prideful, selfish, egotistical bastard that I fell in love with. 💜

#asks #dr eggman #eggman #dr robotnik #dr. eggman #sonic x #analysis #opinion #my post

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ladyloptr · 4 years

Text

•The Noisy Neighbor•

Request: twt@LOKIBARBZ (So, we literally had a whole discussion over this, therefore, I’ll just make a summmary of this.) Loki moves into an apartment in NYC, recently being officiated as an Avenger after some pleading from Thor. He is comfortable in his apartment, as it’s nice and quiet, until a loud new neighbor moves in next door. He slowly goes mad, until one day he seeks to end the nonsense once and for all.

Fandom: MCU AU

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Hate-Sex, Rough-Sex, Angry-Sex, Hair Pulling, Scratching, Choking, Degradation/Name Calling.

{————}

Loki isn’t sure what he expected to be greeted with when he returned to Midgard with his older brother. After the attack on New York City, he wasn’t foolish enough to think they’d welcome him with open arms.

Then again, it’s not like he had much of a choice in coming here.

After waiting in his cell for nearly a year, he was finally placed on trial. They sentenced him to serve his punishment on Midgard, to help The Avengers in their efforts to protect their realm. Among the many different options that the Æsir courts could’ve picked, he’s merely grateful to still be alive.

The Avengers, of course, wouldn’t allow him to take up residency in the tower as a result of his last visit ending in Tony being tossed out of a window. Thankfully, Tony, at the very least, agreed to find him his own apartment somewhere nearby and pay his rent, so long as he behaves himself.

The apartment complex is very nice, and most importantly, quiet. Tony rightfully assumed that it would be wiser to house the God of Chaos in a quiet environment where he’d be least likely to interact with neighbors. The last thing they need right now is for Loki to take it upon himself to permanently silence his Midgardian neighbors for making too much noise.

For a long time, this arrangement worked. Loki typically walks to the tower with headphones in, playing an array of Norwegian music, most of it sung by the artist Aurora. Her music reminds him of home, so he is quite appreciative of her work.

Thor sometimes questions his reasoning for walking instead of teleporting, but Loki finds the walk to be very calming, considering he leaves the apartment early enough to avoid pedestrian traffic. Then late at night, he walks back to his apartment, headphones in, still somewhat aware of his surroundings. Despite what The Avengers constantly say about the city at nighttime, robbery or any kind of assault is of little concern to Loki, considering-well-he’s a literal deity.

Slowly, The Avengers began to warm up to him, with the obvious exception of Natasha and Clint, who are always suspicious of everything. Loki eventually found that he favors the company of Bucky and Wanda, as opposed to the constantly annoying presence of Tony or the self-righteousness of Steve. He also prefers to keep a fair distance from Bruce, much to Bruce’s understanding.

Nothing was amiss, everything was going pretty well.

Until, a new neighbor moves in next door.

Generally, Loki doesn’t care for the ordinary Midgardians that roam the city, he finds them to be incredibly shallow and rather dull. None of them intrigue him in the slightest, and he finds that many of them have an ornate ability to talk much, but at the same time say absolutely nothing.

However, he swears to The Norns that you, the girl who just moved in next door, have been designed specifically to get a rise out of him.

Loki has always been known for his patience and tolerance of others. Even at this chaotic stage in his life, it still truly takes much to get him to snap, but you seem to be naturally gifted at winding him up.

For one, you purposely went out of your way to introduce yourself to him. You went out of your way to bother him, when none of the other neighbors dared to acknowledged him.

Maybe if he were younger he would’ve enjoyed the attention, but now? This Loki likes not being acknowledged, he likes being left alone, and doesn’t care about whoever else is living in this apartment complex.

He doesn’t even really remember what you were saying to him, he just remembers blankly staring down at you for a few minutes and then impolitely shutting the door in your face.

(Unbeknownst to either of you, back on the Bifrost, Heimdall let out a chuckle of amusement.)

Secondly, you’re just too bloody loud. You talk loud, your footsteps are loud, and you play loud music well into the night until one of the other neighbors have to come knocking on your door to tell you to keep it down.

He overheard you rattling off to one of your neighbors in the lobby, and unsurprising to him, you’re pretty young, twenty four, just graduated from NYU, and you have a degree in fashion design-whatever that means. Loki isn’t well informed on Midgardian credentials, and he’d rather not ask Thor (who has a better grasp on degrees thanks to Jane), lest his brother misunderstand his curiosity for infatuation.

Mentally childish, cheery, loud, and obnoxious.

All the things Loki doesn’t like, compressed into one tiny person.

You make him want to turn you into a mouse whenever you’re nearby, and when you speak, sometimes he wishes he could just take a knife and cut out your vocal cords.

It’s such a shame that he finds you so attractive, if only he could tear your face off and place it on another, quieter woman.

On the flip side, you aren’t particularly fond of him either. He always comes off as rude and dismissive. You are convinced he’s the spirit of an old grumpy senior citizen wearing the skin of a beautiful young man.

So, tensions continue to escalate over the course of four months. The loud music, the loud talking, the loud everything.

He could just ask Tony to move him to another apartment complex the moment you began to stoke the fire, but he would rather not concede defeat. Eventually, you’ll be asked to move, with how loud you are and how often you inconvenience the others around you.

But, another month passes and it still hasn’t happened yet.

He’s not sure how long he can put up with this nonsense.

Six months became his limit, after you tested his patience on the wrong day.

That afternoon, Doctor Doom had infiltrated The Avengers tower looking to steal technology from Tony. Doom easily brushed aside the team’s efforts to prevent him from getting anywhere near the lab. With Thor temporarily lending his assistance to Asgard, The Avengers were without one of their strongest members. Loki eventually managed to subdue him, but his seidr was almost completely spent. He was left feeling fatigued and rather irrate.

When he finally returned to his apartment, he was greeted with some much needed peace and quiet. He fell asleep on the couch, too tired to get undressed from his armor or walk to his bedroom.

It wasn’t until you returned home late from a runway show, that his peace was interrupted. He could quite clearly hear your vain and vulgar Midgardian music playing loudly in your apartment nearby.

“I said certified freak.”

“Seven days a week.”

“Wet ass pussy.”

“Make that pull out game weak!”

Finally fed up, Loki exits his apartment, slamming the door shut behind him, and stomping to your front door. He knocks loudly and frantically, eager to get you to shut off that stupid music.

Hearing the knocking on the door, you quickly pause your music, knowing that it’s probably one of your irritated neighbors again. When you open your door, you are greeted with the sight of a scowling deity. You tilt your head and smile at him brightly. “Well, Loki, how may I help you?”

“You may help me by shutting off that incessant, vain, rhythmless dribble you call music.”

“It’s the national anthem. I am paying homage to our country’s independence.”

Loki grimaces, leaning in slightly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“No, but I take you for someone with an old man mentality.” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re not Bill Clinton in a skin suit?”

“It is one in the morning and some of us are tired.” Loki hisses. “Mortals. Always only concerned with themselves, so selfish and blind to the needs of others.”

“Selfish and blind? You’re one to talk.” You cross your arms. “Didn’t you kill like, hundreds of people when you invaded New York City because you wanted a throne?”

Loki’s eyes narrow dangerously at you, as you slowly cross into no-man’s land.

You pout and pretend to cry. “Boohoo, I am Loki, I was born into a rich family, and I was given everything I ever wanted except a throne.” You pretend to wipe your eyes. “So I killed hundreds of innocent humans because I wanted to be king.”

“You have no idea what you speak of, mortal.” Loki growls, his voice low and grave now. He steps forward, passing through your doorway. “You know nothing of me, or what I am capable of.”

“And what are you capable of, Loki?” You ask. “Besides killing hundreds of innocent people because your daddy didn’t like you, of course.”

You are caught off guard when Loki pulls the door shut behind him and locks it. He immediately pins you against the wall by your arms, and glowers down at you.

“Scared, mortal?”

“No.” You answer truthfully. “You don’t scare me anymore. If you really wanted me dead, you would’ve done it already. You’ve gone soft.”

He growls at you, and leans forward, pressing his lips against yours. You hardly have any time to react as he forces his tongue into your mouth. He’s actually surprised when you begin to fight him for dominance, your tongue aggressive pushing against his, and your teeth nibbling on his lips. Eventually, you have to give up your fight, your need for oxygen cutting your fight short.

“Such a shame, a pretty face like yours bound to someone with such an ugly personality.” Loki’s hands release your wrists and slowly travel down to grip your hips.

“Hypocrite.” You say. “Between the two of us, you’re the one with the ugliest personality.”

“You dare to speak to a god in such a way.” Loki groans lowly, grinding himself up against you. You gasp, feeling his erection pressing up against you. “I’ll have you know, where I come from, you’d be punished.”

You let your fingers get tangled in his hair and then you tug on it. You grin as he lets out a soft moan. “Are you telling me you’d like to punish me?”

“I am unsure.” His hands travel up your shirt, and cup your breast. You’re internally grateful that you decided to ditch your bra today. “I have a feeling you’d enjoy it too much.”

Loki stills as your hand travels between the two of you and gently massages the bulge in his pants. “Well, why don’t we find out?”

You yelp in surprise when Loki drags you by your arm to the kitchen. He pushes you to bend over the kitchen counter, pulls your pajama pants down, along with your panties.

A sharp gasp escapes you when he shoves two long fingers inside of you and pumps them steadily inside of you. He continues this until your wetness is practically running down your thighs.

You hear him unbuckle his belt behind you, and soon, he flips you around, so you’re now lying on your back on the counter. You close your eyes as you feel his cock pressing up against your entrance.

“I’m going to break you, fragile mortal.” Loki growls. “I’m going to break you, and relish the moment you come undone underneath me.”

You let out a chuckle, which only serves to irritate him. He enters you in one swift thrust, and you whimper as you feel him stretch you out more than you ever have before.

Loki wraps his fingers around your throat, and begins thrusting hard and fast. He hisses as you drag your nails hard against his neck.

“You should be worshipping me, mortal.” He growls. “You should feel honored that I’m here splitting your quim instead of resting, like I wanted to do.”

“Oh, fuck you spoilt rich brat!” You snap at him.

“Oh, but I am fucking you.” Loki chuckles darkly, tightening his grip around your throat. “And when I’m done, you’ll be positively ruined for any mortal man who tries to lay with you.”

“Bold of you to assume you can make me cum with that weak dick of yours.”

You let out a lewd moan when he changes his angle, his cock head brushing up against your g-spot.

“You were saying, whore?”

“Shut the fuck up. You’re the whore, coming here to fuck someone you don’t even like.”

Loki groans, watching as his cock is literally splitting your cunt. “You asked for this, you stupid girl.”

When you begin to feel a familiar tightening in your stomach, you start to claw and scratch at him, not willing to let him push you over the edge.

“Fight me all you wish to, mortal.” Loki groans in your ear. “You’re going to cum for me, whether you like it or not.”

“I hate you!” You practically scream at him.

“I hate you as well, but here we are.”

You gasp and moan as you feel the coil in your stomach snap. You are somewhat thankful that Loki choking you is preventing you from screaming at the top of your lungs. Loki grunts loudly as he falls over the edge after you, his hips stuttering to a stop as he releases inside of you.

You both stay like that for a few minute, your back on the counter and cum oozing onto your thighs, and Loki resting some of his weight on top of you.

“I might just retire in here for tonight.” Loki grumbles. “I am completely spent.”

“So tired from one round that you can’t walk back to your own apartment?” You chuckle. “You have shitty stamina for a god.”

“I was tired before I arrived here. I said this already.”

You roll your eyes. “Then you should’ve gone to sleep instead of coming here.”

“I wouldn’t have come here if you hadn’t been playing your music loud enough for Asgard to hear!” Loki snaps, biting at your neck in annoyance. You wince. “You’re an obnoxious wrench. It’s a wonder how you haven’t been asked to move elsewhere.”

“The landlord is my mother.”

Loki is silent for a few moments, now absolutely livid. The landlord is your mother?!

“I’ll be having words with your mother, then.”

You laugh. “You can try. Who do you think I got all of my obnoxious traits from?”

You hear Loki scowl next to you, and nip you on the neck again. “You Midgardian women are bothersome.”

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki (marvel)#loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki smut

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firelxdykatara · 3 years

Note

Reader anon here with a thought!

Do you like love triangles? I personally don't, there is something about them that is incredibly frustrating lol. Same thing for harems, though there are some that do it tastefully 😌 so I can't be too upset by them.

It honestly depends on the love triangle and the way the author writes all three relationships (and, for any genuine love triangle, there should be three relationships--they don't all need to be romantic, but there needs to be an existing and strong relationship between all three points on the triangle, otherwise I'm almost certain not to be at all invested), how they are presented, and what the narrative purpose of the love triangle is.

Ironically, one of the best examples of a love triangle done well (at least... to a certain point in the story, which I'll explain in a bit) happened in a television show that is fairly notorious for turning to utter shit in the latter four seasons and alienating pretty much the entire fanbase, to the point where most of us dipped well before the end and everyone celebrated news of the show's cancellation.

I'm talking about The Vampire Diaries.

(under a cut because i went on a LOOOONG ramble about tvd and why that love triangle worked initially and then why it failed, and then i talked a bit about another love triangle that was pretty weak and failed almost from the outset in OUAT but was ultimately axed in favor of the stronger relationship and character being given focus, and what all of this means for how i feel about love triangles in general)

While this is still very much a case where I only shipped one side of the triangle, hated the other, and couldn't wait for it to be resolved so that I wouldn't have to deal with the side I disliked any longer (the writing was on the wall as far back as season 1, no matter how in denial a certain portion of the fandom remained right up until the series finale) the development of the triangle itself and how it affected all three characters and their relationships with one another was done very well for most of the first four seasons. Damon and Stefan were brothers, with a bloody and complicated history and relationship, and they both fell in love with this human girl--Stefan almost instantly, because she looked just like Katherine and he found himself... (and here I'm going to be as fair as I possibly can to him, but if you want my full anti stelena rant I have many of them prepped and ready to go) following her, at first to make sure she wasn't Katherine, and then inserting himself into her life to protect her. Damon, on the other hand, took much longer, because he was still in love with (and trying to rescue) Katherine, and so when he did fall in love with Elena, it was because of who she was, not because of some idealized 'Not Katherine' pedestal he placed her on the instant he met her.

(I swear, I swear I'm trying to be fair to Stefan, it's just very hard.)

The thing is, Elena was in love with Stefan almost from the jump. (And one of the reasons I never really shipped stelena is because that kind of insta-love with very little conflict that isn't manufactured by the plot just isn't compelling for me, and I fully jumped ship about halfway through s1 when Damon and Elena took a road trip together. It's a long story, but that remains one of my favorite episodes in the entire show and it marks the beginning of their actual journey together.) Stefan showed up at a time when she desperately needed someone, and to his credit he did help her through her early depressive spiral--in large part because Elena's recent trauma (survivor's guilt due to her parents dying in a car crash from which she was the only survivor) meant that finding out Stefan was immortal and could not die and would not leave her resulted in her getting fiercely attached.

He was safe, he was stable, she could rely on him. But she could not grow with him, because for him, she was essentially a morality pet/the anchor to his humanity, and that meant that he could not accept when she began to grow out of her need for him. The fact that this coincided with her becoming a vampire only made things worse--because she settled into being a vampire much more easily with far less strife than he'd ever managed, and an Elena who enjoyed being a vampire in ways Stefan simply couldn't could no longer function as the idealized reminder of humanity he was desperate to cling to.

Damon, on the other hand, was the one who fell in love with Elena--not Not Katherine. He never put her on a pedestal, he never asked more of her than she could give him--when he realized how deep his feelings for her ran, he made her forget his confession because he knew he did not deserve her and he didn't want her burdened with his feelings when she was still in love with his brother and was always going to be. Elena's growing feelings for Damon coincided with her growth from a depressed and suicidal teenage girl into a young woman who began to realize that it was ok to want things for herself--to be a little selfish, to take what she wanted, to admit what she wanted. And, again, the fact that this coincided with her transformation into a vampire (although her growth within her relationship with Damon began well before that), meant that Damon's reaction to Elena-as-a-vampire was thrown into sharp relief against Stefan's--because he accepted her where his brother couldn't.

Ultimately, this led to Elena fully outgrowing her feelings for Stefan, and accepting, nurturing, and reveling in her feelings for Damon. The triangle was resolved, all three characters had growth separately and in their different relationships, and they could then move on from there along their different paths. Stefan could have had some truly excellent character growth involving moving on and finally living for himself rather than trying so hard to be this perfect brooding tortured vampire because he was the Good Brother, since there was no longer any need for that Good Brother/Bad Brother dichotomy. They'd both grown past it, as characters individually and as brothers together.

Unfortunately, where TVD ultimately failed (and this coincided with the way the show utterly lost the plot in terms of storylines, character arcs and cohesiveness and became an unsalvageable mess) is in refusing to let the love triangle die.

What should have happened is that once the love triangle was resolved--Elena growing as a character and moving on from her immature first love and fully embracing her feelings, as an adult, for her much more adult relationship with Damon--they abandoned the love triangle premise and let all three characters continue to grow outside of it. Damon and Elena should have been allowed to grow together and explore their relationship, Stefan to figure out where he still fit in their lives--as Damon’s brother, and one of Elena’s closest friends who she still loved dearly even though she was no longer in love with him--and then explore relationships of his own outside their family unit as he finally began to fully move on and grow out of his own overly idealized feelings for Elena.

Instead, what wound up happening is that the stelena side of the love triangle kept being teased--probably to keep the avid stelena shipping contingent invested in the story, hoping for ‘another brother swap’ as was lampshaded in one of Nina’s final episodes before she left the show (and, indeed, many of them remained utterly convinced that stelena would be endgame, right up until the series finale)--and rather than growing together, delena fans were constantly hit over the head with how ‘toxic’ Damon and Elena were for each other (even though this ran contrary to everything we’d seen in the show to that point, including having Damon regress repeatedly for, presumably, no reason other than to never let fans forget he was the Bad Brother and always would be, and Elena just couldn’t help but love him anyway), and all three characters and their relationships wound up suffering horribly for it.

That is an example of a love triangle that had a very promising foundation and development, right up through what should have been a resolution, and the reason it is generally looked on so unfavorably in fandom circles is because the show refused to move on from the triangle organically when the story needed it to, because it had already served its purpose.

For an example of a love triangle that, in my mind, simply didn’t work from the very beginning, I’d say my go-to example is from Once Upon a Time--the short-lived love triangle between Emma, Killian, and Neal. I think the first stumbling block there was that there weren’t really three relationships that mattered. Technically, Killian did have a connection to Neal--because they’d met in Neverland, prior to Neal remaining in the Land Without magic--but it functioned more as a backdrop to explain why Killian knew him when they got to Neverland again in the story, and why Neal didn’t trust him. It wasn’t actually developed as anything outside of that brief flashback, and they didn’t have any connection in the present outside of one episode where they essentially fought over Emma and she (rightly) got angry at them for it. There was no real exploration of who they were to each other outside of the fact that both of them had feelings for Emma, so it really was just one woman torn between her feelings for two different men, and with no real stakes attached to her choice.

The other problem with this particular triangle is that one side of it was... conspicuously weak. While Emma’d had a full season and a half worth of interactions and development with Killian--where they went from enemies, to grudging allies, to Killian openly acknowledging that he hadn’t ever believed he would be able to love again until he met Emma--she had... very little to support her potential relationship with Neal outside of their history. History which consisted of then-young-adult Neal knocking up underage Emma (she was 17 at the oldest because she was still in Juvie when Henry was born, and he was already ten years old the day she turned 28; so she was either 16 or very newly 17 when she got pregnant) and ensuring that she got sent to prison for his own crime, at which point he didn’t see her again until she was nearly 30. When he did see her again, he treated her incredibly poorly, up to and including getting angry at her about the fact that she didn’t tell him that Henry was his son--even though he had no right to that information, because Emma was in prison because of him at the time she found out, and she had no clue that he was in any way connected to the Fairy Tale world until she was helping Mr. Gold track down his son and it turned out to be Neal.

A big point is made, throughout the early seasons especially, about Emma’s walls and how much difficulty she has trusting people--and a great deal of that stemmed from Neal’s betrayal. This could have been the foundation for a story of healing and growth and two people coming back together--however, with the way Neal treats Emma in the present and how little closure she actually gets for what he did to her in the past, it comes across more as ‘well, she never did get over her feelings for him, so maybe he still has a shot even though she has no real reason to want to be with him now’.

Killian, on the other hand, never doubted Emma’s abilities and always had the utmost trust in and respect for her (after they became allies), and it was obvious that this is something Emma experienced very little of in her life. It’s notable that the first episode where they really interacted is the one in which Emma’s history with Neal is revealed, and it very deliberately paralleled and contrasted with her interactions with Killian. This already presented him with a leg up on the love triangle once Neal did show up, because Neal was the reason for a lot of the walls Emma had built around her heart, and it wasn’t until meeting Killian that she finally began to let some of them down.

I think that the show recognized this, and it pulled something that is actually a very frustrating pet peeve of mine--rather than write out the story that makes sense and have the main point of the love triangle make a choice and stick to it, the third point of the triad was simply written out. In this case, Neal essentially killed himself via his own stupidity, allowing Emma to angst about losing him without actually having to tell him she wasn’t in love with him and wasn’t going to choose him. (Veronica Mars pulled something very similar with the Logan/Veronica/Duncian triangle in season 2--rather than admit within the narrative that her relationship with Duncan was built on flimsy feelings of infatuation bc of their history, and a ‘stability’ that didn’t really work for who Veronica was at her core, he simply got written out of the story, running away for Plot Reasons and never forcing Veronica to confront the fact that she wasn’t actually in love with him and hadn’t been for quite some time.)

I think that in OUaT, the love triangle could have worked if a relationship between Killian and Neal was not only established in the past but developed in the present--Killian was in love with Neal’s mother centuries earlier, and something I’m actually really upset we never got is the two of them talking about Milah and maybe Neal getting some closure for his mother’s abandonment and someone apologizing to him for what they put Baelfire through as a child--giving stakes to Emma’s choice beyond ‘one of them will be all uwu sad that he wasn’t picked’. It also would have worked much better if we were given any reason for Emma to still have feelings for Neal in the present beyond the history they shared, which caused Emma nothing but pain for the last decade and change. If Neal had treated her more fairly--if he’d treated her like someone he actually cared about and even still loved, rather than blaming her for things that were his own fault and undermining her belief in her own abilities, among other things--then their relationship might have been strong enough to stand on its own opposite Emma’s relationship with Killian. I don’t think it ever would’ve been a relationship that appealed to me, personally, but then I could have at least enjoyed watching the three of them grow together and seeing all of their relationships grow and change.

So, ultimately, TL;DR: I do like love triangles, conceptually, but there are a few requirements they must meet for me to feel anything other than irritated at the inclusion. One: there must be at least three equally important relationships between the three characters. If it’s just one character torn between her (or his, but it’s usually a woman) feelings for two unrelated people, that can be compelling for a short time but ultimately I’m going to be left feeling frustrated by her refusal to just make a damn choice and put me out of my misery. Two: there should be some sort of development in each relationship which makes the presence of the triangle narratively significant. Why is it important for one character to have conflicting romantic feelings for these two other people at the same time? What purpose does it serve either their character arcs or the story as a whole? While I am both a Bangel and a Spuffy shipper, I’ve never considered Angel/Buffy/Spike to be a love triangle--they are very different relationships that she had at very different points in her life, and while her feelings for Angel never really went away (and do cause some angst for Spike near the end of btvs) they are never really competing for her affections in any meaningful sense. If that competition does exist, there needs to be a compelling reason why. And, as a further addendum to this point, I need to at least understand why the main point of the triangle is invested in each relationship, even if I don’t ship it and actively dislike or even outright hate one side of the triangle. (I loathe stelena, but I’ve always understood why Elena was in love with him in the beginning of the show, for example. And before s5/s6, I was really pleased with how the show handled her feelings for him and finally allowed her to grow and move on from them.)

And finally, three: the triangle needs to be resolved at some point--and, when it is, it needs to stay that way. Where TVD ultimately lost me (aside from the ridiculous plot contrivances and rampant character assassination) was the refusal to let the love triangle die a natural death when it is what the story called for, and all three of their characters, their relationships, and the show as a whole suffered massively for it. So, when the primary point of the triangle makes a choice--particularly if she had made one choice in the beginning of the story, but it was clear that she was ultimately moving towards choosing the other side as she grew and her feelings and relationships grew and changed with her--let that be the end of it. Move on to exploring what that choice means for the main pair and the party not chosen, sure--maybe explore their feelings about not being chosen and how that affects their relationships with both of the others afterwards--but don’t constantly tease the possibility of the ‘losing side’ getting back together just to keep shippers invested. It’s only going to hurt your show and make everyone look callous and stupid.

Alternately, a final possibility: make it an ot3 instead. But again, if the other three conditions aren’t met (particularly number two, and its addendum; if I don’t understand why the main point of the triangle is in love with both other points, an ot3 is unlikely to resolve that issue and I’m only going to wind up resenting it), then this won’t work, because it’s just going to wind up a lopsided and stilted mess of a relationship that leaves me wishing the offending point of the triangle had been killed off just so I wouldn’t have to keep hearing about them.

#tvd #delena #anti stelena #ouat #captain swan #anti swanfire #reader anon #oh man i rambled for days lmao im sorry #i hope this answered your question #on love triangles

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sunseteyes · 4 years

Text

MOONLIGHT - S. CHOI

theme/s: bestfriend, confession, makeout, only mild nsfw

this is my second present for my friend because sae is her baby haha. anyway, feel free to listen to the song whilst reading!

You knew you couldn’t be selfish to call him yours.

He’s different; his job, his life, heck even his identity. As much as he kept secrets from you, you knew there was more to him than just that bubbly, slightly cringey, cute guy you met in the net.

You were bored by time when you matched with him in some random dating app, not really knowing you’d enjoy his crazy jokes and eventually, his company. It took you awhile before he actually went by your place and vice versa. However, he preferred the latter since he said he has a lot of work and he’d bring at least his laptop when he comes by your place or he’d have to go home early to finish his work. He’s a very busy man, you realized. That’s also why you two never progressed into something other than that line between friendship and being an official couple.

It was not what you two intended anyway at first. There were some casual flirting—wait, scratch that. There were a lot of flirting especially in texts or calls. However, he tends to shy up and just friend-zone you whenever you see each other in real life. You figured it was just his personality and he was never really interested to get serious so you pushed aside those budding feelings, going to several blind dates setup by your other friends or hookups that only lasted for just one night or at most, a week.

No one was like Luciel—or if that’s really his name.

You figured out it was not his real name when you got to talk to one of his friends—Yoosung, who went by his place one time to pickup some Honey Buddha Chips when he saw you, surprising the hell out of the boy. You could remember how freaked out he was that “Seven”—another name of his—was not telling anyone he has someone who he hangs out every now and then. You two exchanged numbers at that time and became friends. You tried to flirt with him, but you just couldn’t do it.

He’s just not Luciel.

Until one day, you realized you’d been trying to find him in every person you meet, setting up the standards to match the kind of person he is. Ah, shit. You totally fell deep into this one, you cursed to yourself.

“Hey, hey, are you still watching?” a voice pulls you from your train of thoughts, the owner of the said voice being the center of said thoughts. You sigh as you turn to Luciel, gazing at his golden eyes, laced with dark bags underneath, his glasses sitting comfortably under his sharp nose. He seems tired but he still made time for you to hangout today. Why does he have to be so kind? Why is he making it hard for you not to fall deeper into that unfair thing called love—or whatever it is?

“What? What’s wrong?” he asks, his smile falling as he looks at you worriedly. “Do you not like the movie?”

You avert away, avoiding his eyes, afraid he’d see through the hundred bricked walls you’ve built up against him, just like the security gate that he has before you could get in his home.

“It’s not that-“ your voice comes out rushed. “-maybe I’m just tired.” you were—it’s not a lie. You’re tired of hiding these feelings and not acting upon it. How could you? You’re too afraid to break whatever friendship you had with him—the only relationship that mattered to you right now.

“Oh.” he lets out. “Do you want to-uhm-stop watching? Do you want to sleep? You can sleep for awhile, I think. If only you want to though! I’m not forcing you or anything.” he blabbered, clearly embarrassed.

Don’t do that, Luciel, you say to your mind. Don’t make me hope.

“No, it’s alright. Let’s watch.” you say, dropping your hands to fish some Honey Buddha Chips that were settled onto a big bowl in between the two of you. However, before you could even do so, a familiar warmth envelops your hand and your head whips to Luciel, surprised.

He has a blush on his cheeks, almost resembling the color of his hair. “Y/n-I could tell something’s bothering you. What is it? You should not feel this way, it’s your birthday.”

Ah, that’s right. The reason he probably invited you was because he felt bad he couldn’t even go to your birthday gathering, where you gathered several of your friends to a club last night. Your head still spins from all the stuff that went on; all the drinking, kissing, dancing. Have you hooked up with someone else? You can’t even remember. Maybe you did. All you knew was that you hated Luciel’s work—for taking him from you, even if he wasn’t yours anyway.

“It’s nothing.” you brush his question away, but not his hand. His hand felt too warm and amazing against yours. You’re too selfish to push it away.

The look on his eyes made you want to say what’s been bothering you. But it’s not that simple. You can’t really tell him you’ve been in love with him after almost two years of friendship; that you can’t get him off your head even if you’re fucking another person or in another blind date, finding his warmth and touches in other people. Did you though? Nope. Not a single one.

His thumb brushes softly against your hand, butterflies spreading from your stomach, traveling to your heart. He’s not one to initiate skinship and it made you wonder why he’s doing this now. You wanted to question him, you really do. But how could you? You’re afraid he’d stop it altogether.

“It’s not nothing.” he objects, his voice soft. “Today’s your special day. Uh-Do you want to do something else? Do you want to play games? Do you-“

“You can’t-“ you cut him off from his rambling, pulling your gaze away from his eyes to divert your attention back at the television screen. “You can’t give me what I want.”

You tried focusing, despite the distraction that his hand provided. However, your efforts were futile. You can’t even get the gist of the movie by now. Is this an action movie? Or comedy? You’ve got not a single idea.

You felt him remove the bowl in between the two of you without letting go of your hand and move closer, until he was inches away, his whole body facing yours. “Come on, tell it to me! I’m sure I can probably hack my way into it.” he laughs, trying to lift up the mood, probably.

“You can’t, Luciel.” you used his name—fake name, your tone indicating that the conversation was over and you didn’t want to talk about it. You could tell he wanted to push it but he kept his mouth shut. It ached you to act like this to him. But what could you do? One look from him will make you get on your knees if he wanted. One touch and you’d be crumbling down your walls to let him in. Maybe-

Maybe you should stop hiding?

I mean, there’s nothing left to recover, right? If this keeps on going, it would just be the same as being heartbroken from the unrequited feelings. Were you willing to risk Luciel and your friendship?

You were not the one who decided that, however, for a hand grasps gently on your chin, making you face him once again. You noticed how he had leaned closer to you, taking your breath away at the current proximity between the two of you.

“Hey...” you snap, a bit harsher than you intended. “What are you doing?”

He was blushing, but he did not back down. This is not just part of those flirting you’ve done before—it’s different from all of those you’ve done before.

“I...” he trails off, almost like he wanted to say something. But then he lets out a sigh, bumping his forehead into yours while closing his eyes.

You could smell him—it was not the scent from the Honey Buddha Chips he’d probably eaten all day, but rather it was a the sweetness and freshness of his perfume, most likely sprayed earlier on before you came. Bergamot with hints of lemon? You don’t really know much about luxurious perfumes but you could tell that he’d spent a generous money on this one.

You couldn’t hold back. It was your fault for cutting that thin thread of separation between friends and something more. You were the one who held on his jacket, pulling him closer to you and inhaling on his scent.

His eyes shot open, now looking at you with a surprised look. You could feel your heart pound when you met his golden irises, observing his reaction.

You dreaded as the seconds pass by, silence hanging between the two of you despite the distant noise from the built-in speakers that was installed in his living room. Yet, the only thing you could focus on were his eyes, his scent, his warmth, his soft breaths—in short, him.

Until he finally closes his eyes and relents all the restraints that bounded him from doing something more, leaning forward to brush his lips slightly onto yours, testing the waters.

Your heart jumps but you didn’t move away. Instead, you decided to let it all go and met his lips again, this time giving in to your inner desires for once and for all. You knew you should’ve stopped, should’ve pushed him away. But what can you do when you’ve just ached for him that much?

The kisses were light as a feather, and his lips were inexperienced. Yet, it didn’t fail to make your heart flutter like a high-school girl kissing her crush. The hands that gripped on his jacket pulled him closer, deepening the kiss as a result.

You pull away to kiss the side of his lips, a hand raising to cup his jaw, relishing on the way he responds. You did sense uncertainty in his aura however, and it made you stop your actions.

“Is this... okay?” you ask, voice hushed in a whisper, like you’re afraid anybody else will hear despite knowing no on else was there aside from you and him.

He peaks a look at you and nods, a simple action yet it weighed much more than anything else you’ve done your whole life. You caress his cheek, as gentle as a dove flopping its wings as it glides into the air. You adored the way he leans into your touch, resembling a scene of yourself petting a cat.

“There will be no going back.” you spilled the words out of your mouth, as if telling it to yourself at the same time. This time, he looks you straight in the eye behind his Gucci glasses, his messy vermillion locks adoring his head, accentuating more of his sharp but adorable face.

“I know. I just-“ he pauses, his brows furrowing. “I can’t hide it anymore. Whenever I see you sad, it hurts me how I can’t comfort you the way I want to.”

You held the sides of his face and gave him all of your attention, letting him speak further. His expressions told you a lot of his emotions, mirroring the inside with the outside with how exposed he was.

“I want to hug you whenever you’re stressed, I want to kiss all of your tears away. You don’t know how much I want to take your mind away from all the things that brings a frown to your face.” he rattles on, pouring out all of his emotions to you. You’ve never seen him look so broken and desperate, and you just want to hug the daylights out of him.

But you did more than that, pressing your lips to his once again, lasting for a couple of seconds before you lean back and gaze at him lovingly. “You can, you know. You just have to let me in.”

He didn’t respond verbally after that. Instead, he kissed you again, filled with emotions of the moon that chose to show itself in the darkness of the night.

Moments passed by in a blur; his touches making you feel light-headed and his kisses being the only thing that’s keeping you from pushing on. It was finally happening—he’s finally the one in front of you, taking you to bed, not just some random stranger you’ve picked up from the bar or someone who you’ve just had your first date with.

“Luciel, I-“

“I’m not Luciel.”

Your head snapped to look him in the eyes. “What?”

“Don’t call me Luciel.” he says, glancing up at you from his position below you as you straddled his lap, his hands wrapped around you protectively.

“I want you to call me by my real name, Saeyoung.” his golden irises held the sincerity and trust that he felt towards you and you can’t help but gaze adoringly at him, raising your hands to cup his cheeks before grasping upon the temples of his glasses and gently remove it out of his face. You had to stretch a bit to place it on the bedside table but once you came back in front of him, he pulls you once again into a heated make-up session, spreading more butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Both your tops were discarded in a matter of seconds, heat rushing through your blood the more exposed you two were becoming.

He pecks your cheeks and his lips travel down your neck, and then down to the valley of your breasts.

Tracing down on his arms, you grabbed into his hands kissed his fingertips, taking his breath away in the process. You could see the way he looks at you and you then wondered why you even were worried before.

However, a sound of ringing echoed throughout the walls of the house and you recognized it as your own phone. You fish your hand on one of your jeans’ pockets, feeling Saeyoung resume his soft kisses on your neck, pulling you close.

“Who’s that?” he questions, his voice muffled by your skin as he peaks at the screen.

“I don’t know, honestly.” you respond and you were about to ignore the call and turn off the phone when he speaks again.

“Answer it.”

“What? Why?”

He looks at you intensely. “Answer it, babe.”

It might have been the way his tone accentuated with the pet name that slipped out of his mouth or the way he continued giving you open-mouthed kisses on your neck and chest, but you obliged. You felt giddy, and nervous by the time you held the gadget on one ear, making sure you won’t make a single noise that would hint that you were being intimate at the moment.

“Hello?”

A voice greets on the other line and you immediately recognize it. From what you could recall, it was someone you met at the bar last night.

“Hey, I thought you’re free tonight?”

You avert your eyes to Saeyoung, who was busying himself with marking your skin or running his lips and tongue on it. Yet, you were quite certain he could hear the conversation very well with the way he ducks his head and refuses to meet your gaze.

“Oh-uhm, sorry, who are you again?” your voice came out breathily more than you intended.

“You forgot? You slept with me last night.”

Both you and Saeyoung froze, thickness suddenly looming in the air around you. It took awhile but he reaches out to grab your phone from your ear and put it away before tackling you to bed, pulling you underneath him as he hovered on top of you.

“Sae-”

“Do you really want to do this with me?” he whispers and that’s when you noticed the hurt in his golden orbs, gleaming beneath the beauty of its color. You thought he was going to be angry at you, but his reaction pained you more.

You nod at him while softly saying, “I’ve never wanted anyone else other than you.”

Your affirmation was all he needed to hold you tight all night and never let you go from now on.

feel free to send requests~ as for birthday dedications, i’ll post the guidelines probably tomorrow or the day after so please do check it out!

#mystic messenger #mysmes #mystic messenger headcanons #mystic messenger oneshots #saeyoung choi #saeyoung x reader #sawyoung smut #luciel x reader #luciel smut #707 x reader #707 smut #song inspiration #mysme #mysme smut #mysme x reader #mystic messenger rfa #rfa x reader #mystic messenger smut #nnr nightdream

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kitkatopinions · 3 years

Note

You know what always bugged me about Jaune attacking Oscar (aside from the obvious)? It felt like he took advantage of the fact that Oscar was a defenseless child. I doubt he'd have the gall to attack Ozpin in his previous body. Now with Qrow on the other hand, I'm not too sure. One of his more consistent traits is picking fights when he shouldn't.

I don’t know, Jaune didn’t have any trouble charging at Cinder, or lashing out at Qrow around the campfire (though he didn’t attack him physically.) It seems like Jaune was willing to lash out at anyone who might have possibly sort of contributed to Pyrrha’s choice and he seemed more controlled by his grief more than logic or power complex. Idk, thinking he’d be just as physical with adult Professor Ozpin doesn’t seem too far off base. He was pretty illogical. Like, not trying to throw shade. And he did get it right to blame Cinder, obviously, although I feel like Jaune of all people charging at Cinder should’ve resulted in more injury to him than it did. His actions were frustrating, but were at least understandable for someone (especially a teenager) dealing with grief. But Oscar deserved a sincere apology from him and I’m so glad we started moving on from that.

...If Penny’s death triggers an ‘aggressive Jaune trying to find someone to blame and lashing out at everyone 2.0′ I’ll be very annoyed.

As for Qrow, I didn’t think he’d punch Oz at all before it happened and it confused the living daylights out of me. His fight with Winter was when he was seemingly in a pretty good mood and it seemed like a mutual grudge match he was more or less enjoying. And even though Winter seemed to take it much more seriously, there were moments where she was acting like it wasn’t all that serious too.

Qrow Vs Winter really read like an anime fight where you knew the stakes were low and they weren’t really out to hurt each other - and the person that actually got the closest to breaking that feeling was Winter. Qrow’s other conflicts like his spat with James and his arguing with Raven, those were all verbal fights. Qrow and Winter was (if I recall correctly) the only time we saw him actively get physical with an ally or even a former ally who hadn’t revealed themselves to be working with Salem yet, and again, Winter was the one who first started trying to deal blows and she’s the one who seemed more violent.

I mean, this is Qrow with Raven pre-her working with Salem.

And this is Qrow when she showed up at Haven with Cinder to help her steal the Relic.

So the understanding I at least was working with was that Qrow - while prone to arguments and being rude and disrespectful - wasn’t just a violent person. He fought with Winter because they had some messed up understanding linked to their school-rival-like relationship, and she was the exception, rather than the rule. Outside of her, he only seemed to get physical when the situation demanded a fight.

So Qrow just punching an ally - and longtime friend - because it’d been revealed that he’d lied to Qrow - albeit, about an important detail - seemed really out of left field for me considering the prior established thresh-hold of who he’s willing to attack. Qrow didn’t even reach for a weapon with Raven in the bar while she was getting in the way of Oz’s life saving plans out of selfishness and cowardice and being dismissive of Yang’s pain to his face plus acting kind of aggressively herself. But he was ready to shoot her the minute he thought she had gone to Salem. But Oz wasn’t revealed as having done some horrible, evil, non-understandable thing. He was revealed to have lied out of desperation about something admittedly important in his effort to do what he could to save people. Although I would’ve liked Qrow to take his side from the beginning, it makes sense for his character to have been mad, upset, and to have lashed out. Like I said before, what Qrow is known to get into is serious verbal fights. But punching Oz? When Oz clearly wouldn’t defend himself? When he’s in a body of a child? When his abuse at the hands of Salem was just revealed? That so didn’t even feel like Qrow!

In my opinion, the punch wasn’t a trackable, Qrow-like reaction that made sense. The punch was what started the whole ‘Qrow is violent’ spiral. It was so out there that I had tried to come up with an explanation (like 'maybe there was an Apathy near by they just didn't know about?') And then I started trying to reason that Qrow seeming to slide into deeper depression and drinking heavier was because he felt super bad about it and he was going to give a big heartfelt apology in Volume 7 when Oz came back, which obviously didn't happen. And then the writers randomly had Qrow fight Clover with Tyrian and decide James was at fault for it and get determined to kill him for most of a season without even having gotten the whole story, plus picking fights with Harriet, only to try and talk her down in the next scene he's in?

Qrow punching Oscar felt like an isolated incident that I was willing to consider a really weird and bad mistake on the part of the creators without throwing out the character, but then in seasons seven and eight, he got more violent and less loveable. But confusingly, sometimes Qrow acts like he used to. He waffles between Good Qrow and Bad Qrow sometimes, and sometimes on a scene by scene basis. Good Qrow would totally try and talk Harriet down, whereas Bad Qrow would totally knock her to the ground and taunt her about getting that fight she wanted. It's so weird to see such disjointed writing that makes characters feel so back and forth. It’s not just Qrow, the CRWBY writers have a tendency to just write whatever they think feels valid in the moment without considering the larger character journeys, I think. And once they start hearing complaints, sometimes they double down, but sometimes they start trying to write their characters to act differently without addressing the flaw itself. Like having Yang act like Summer is her mom again, or having Blake suddenly acting like she's really close friends with Ruby, or having Winter suddenly act like she was against the things she’d been totally fine with last season. So there's every chance they're just gonna pretend Qrow never did the violent things he did, and never address the punch or how he helped fight Clover or how he wanted to kill Ironwood. It's possible season nine or ten will feature Qrow acting like his Volume 3 - 5 self again and the writers just expecting everyone to roll with it.

... I spent way too long talking about Qrow. XD Oh well.

#rwde #rwby criticism #rwby bashing #anti rwby #anti crwby

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fandom---writing · 3 years

Text

I’d like to resume my therapy;)

The clock read 7:28 p.m. as Hannibal poured himself a glass of the red wine he kept in his office. His final patient had departed not long ago, marking the end of his work day. He swirled the red liquid around in his glass before bringing it up to his nose. Hannibal enjoys smelling wine as much as he enjoys drinking it, allowing the savoring to expand to two senses. Tonight’s wine smelled different though. Something vaguely familiar and yet, oddly foreign. Hannibal put down the glass and the scent grew stronger in the absence of the intoxicating plum fumes. It smelled very clean, a scent he’d only noticed in small capacities before. He stood and followed it like a bloodhound to the door of his office. Upon opening it, Hannibal is shocked to see the man standing in front of him. There was Will Graham, radiating the scent of Irish Spring soap. He looked poised and freshly groomed, the polar opposite of the man that pointed a gun at Hannibal during their last encounter.

Will stood in the middle of the lobby with his back to the door. Without meaning to, Hannibal found his gaze dropping down, settling on the ass of the man in front of him. The feelings developing in the pit of his stomach caught him so off guard he quickly tried to get Will to turn around.

“Hello, Will.” Hannibal’s voice came across deadpan. It was not an actual greeting, more of a quick alert to snap himself out of the rabbit hole he found himself descending into.

Unfortunately for Hannibal, the feeling didn’t disappear alongside his line of sight to Will’s ass. The Will Graham that stood before him exuded a word Hannibal would never have associated with him until this very moment; slut. Hannibal, usually very good at reading Will and maintaining full knowledge of any situation involving him, found himself dumbfounded. For once it seemed Will had the upper hand, and was using it to his advantage.

“May I come in?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Hannibal had never seen Will display so much confidence. He hesitated on his next words, desperately trying to regain control of both the situation and the flying insects wreaking havoc in his stomach. “Do you intend to point a gun at me?”

Without missing a beat, Will starts toward the door in such a calm and controlled manner. “Not tonight,” he says lightly, passing Hannibal and entering the room. Once again, Hannibal finds himself trying - and failing - to pry his gaze away from the perfectly fitted pants walking toward the leather arm chairs in the middle of the room. Without turning around, forcing Hannibal to stare longer, Will asks “are you expecting someone?”

“Only you.” Hannibal’s voice comes out tense, letting Will know his plan was working.

“You kept my standing appointment open?” Normally Hannibal would find it rude of someone to have a conversation with their back turned, but in this case, he couldn’t bring himself to care. The view was too nice. “And you’re right on time,” Hannibal retorts, breaking his stare long enough to glance at his watch. He hears Will inhale sharply, causing his own breath to hitch - silently he hopes - and exhales with such control. His next words calculated and calm; “I have to deal with you... and my... feelings about you. I think it’s best if I do that directly.”

Hannibal uses this moment to try to regain control of the situation, racking his psychiatrist brain to shift the mood Will’s creating with no effort at all. “First you have to grieve for what is lost,” he starts to make his way closer to Will, having realized he’d been frozen in his tracks. “And what has changed.”

Sensing Hannibal has fully entered the room, Will slowly turns over his shoulder. “I’ve changed...” He raises an eyebrow. Hannibal wants nothing more than to cut it off his face and eat it. He’s always wanted to eat Will’s face, in any way Will would allow, but this urge has stayed but a thought tucked away in a dark room in his mind palace. But that room’s starting to look like this one. “You changed me.”

“The friendship that we had is over.” Hannibal says quickly. He knows he’s saying that as a reminder to himself, knowing what he’s put Will through. After a pause he adds “the Chesapeake Ripper is over”.

Will sighs, “it had to be Miriam, didn’t it? She was... compelled to take his life so she could take her own back.”

“How will you take your life back?” Hannibal asks.

At this, Will fully turns around, using his eyebrow to drive Hannibal crazy. He tilts his head slightly to the side before saying “I’d like to resume my therapy”.

Those words hung heavy in the air and all Hannibal can do is stare at Will. The man he drugged. The man he framed for murder. The man he took everything from. The man he... loved. He knew what Will was doing, and he knew Will knew what Will was doing. Whether or not he was doing it for selfish - vengeful - reasons, Hannibal didn’t care. He took a few steps closer to Will, as he’d done many times before, but this time Will stood his ground. Hannibal had backed Will into a metaphoric corner similarly before, and Will had recoiled from his advances. Not this time. “Where shall we begin?”

“I’m your patient, Doctor. You do what you think is best for me.” Will said with a smug look on his face. Maybe the multiple attempts on Hannibal’s life weren’t the result of a deep seated hatred. Maybe they stemmed from a similar feeling that motivated Hannibal to try and take his. Maybe Will was finally becoming who Hannibal knew he could be. He was here after all.

At the risk of reading the room incorrectly, something Hannibal rarely did, he took a few more steps to close the gap between them. Slowly, Hannibal brought his hand up to Will’s cheek. Upon contact, Will locked eyes with him. There was something different in his gaze. Hannibal no longer saw a scared mongoose, quivering under the porch, but rather the hungry stare of the snake that put him there. Will was not acting like Hannibal’s prey, they were both equal predators now, and predators need to eat. If Will wasn’t going to back away, neither was Hannibal. He wrapped his hand around the back of Will’s neck and closed the remaining inches between the two, crashing their lips together with enough force to make them both lose a little of the menacing composure they’d built up. It took no time at all for Will to be kissing Hannibal back, matching the force and passion Hannibal was demonstrating. Their lips move together like they were made for each other, quickly sinking into a rhythm. Will brought his arms up and around Hannibal’s neck, pulling him as close as possible. Hannibal’s free hand finding its way to the small of Will’s back, unconsciously letting it fall lower and lower. Knowing his office like the back of his hand, Hannibal blindly backed Will up against the nearest wall and pressed his body against the other man’s, causing Will to moan into his mouth. Hannibal used this opportunity to slip his tongue into Will’s mouth, deepening the kiss. This was all Hannibal had ever wanted for Will, but he didn’t know how badly he’d wanted it since he’d kept his own feelings locked away for so long, waiting for Will to find the key. Not only did Will find the key, he rang the dinner bell. Hannibal moved away from Will’s mouth, allowing the younger man to breathe, and pressed hot kisses along his jaw and down to his neck. Resisting the urge to sink his teeth all the way in, tasting his skin, Hannibal left small love bites that drove Will crazy.

“Hannibal,” Will breathed, voice in complete shambles. Hannibal broke away from Will’s neck, suddenly realizing the blood in his mouth, and looked Will in the eyes. He saw a hint of the softer, less confident man he’d grown to love. Will was very telling with his eyes if you knew how to read them, and in that moment Hannibal could read them like a book. All of Hannibal’s doubts melted away at the look of admiration on Will’s face. Will may have entered the room under the guise of control, but this was Hannibal’s design.

#the salmon shirt scene #you know the one #hannigram fic #nbc hannibal #will graham #hannibal lecter #hannigram

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ironmandeficiency · 4 years

Text

mr. tin man

pairing: agent whiskey / statesman!reader

word count: 4470

summary: communication is vital in a relationship, and the lack thereof resulted in you breaking up with jack after eight months of dating. when whiskey and bloody mary see each other again, it’s not quite the romantic reunion they deserved.

a/n: apparently writing for a cowboy while wearing a cowboy hat and listening to country music brings out my twang via text. but this song was my inspo, enjoy my first attempt at whiskey

warnings: implied smut, heartbreak, plenty of sad, implied torture, canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, promise of a happy ending

“so that’s it, you’re not gonna explain yourself?!”

“there’s nothing to explain, jack.”

“that’s bullshit and you know it!”

jack had no idea what had gotten into you. just last night the two of you were making dinner together with his record player singin’ george strait, following dinner with slow dancin’ in the living room. the rest of the night was spent in his bed, in his arms as he made you feel his love for you with every thrust and kiss, every word of praise whispered into your ear.

eight months was a short time to be so confident in his love for you. both of your jobs took you all around the country, sometimes the world, but you had always made it work. you both agreed very early on to not let work get in the way as much as possible, but sometimes it was like champ had it out for you despite not knowing that you were seeing someone.

i’m just- i’m grabbing my stuff and leaving, i can’t be around you right now.” your voice was cold and unyielding, nearly making jack think that the previous night’s lovemaking was all a figment of his wild imagination.

“i’m not letting you leave till you tell me why! what changed from last night to now?!”

“i don’t need to tell you a damned thing, now let me go!”

“sweetheart, don’t be like this!”

his eyes narrowed at you, face scrunching slightly as he continued. “like what, jack? a bitch?” your yelling was met with his silence. this silence only made you angrier with him, even though he had no idea what started this or how to fix it. “go on then,” you egg him on, “tell me what i’m acting like!”

“you’re acting like you don’t love me! you don’t treat someone you love like you’re treating me right now!”

now it was your turn to be silent. jack’s eyes were scrutinizing you and if asked to, he could pinpoint the exact second when your eyes lost the softness he crooned over and into rigid, obstinate stone. what was going on in that head of yours, and why wouldn’t you let him help you? why weren’t you talking things out like rational adults, the way you always did when there was a disagreement?

“well maybe i don’t love you.”

the only thing you heard was the blood rushing through his veins, trying to reach his heart and repair the damage you dealt before it was too late. but the second the words fell from your lips it was too late to save him, your cruelty laced with the venom of a thousand vipers as you spoke with no hesitation.

“tell me you don’t mean it. sugar, tell me you don’t-“

“i do, jack. i mean it. now let. me. go.”

you had no words to describe what you felt right then, the way your throat constricted and eyes blurred from tears and hands trembled as you grabbed what belongings of yours you could carry, choking on your pain but hiding it well. it wasn’t all of your things by any means, but he could do what he wanted with the rest of it. you had no intentions of returning for anything and you had the feeling you wouldn’t be welcomed back after what you’ve just done.

with your arms full and not a single glance over your shoulder, you walked out of the door he held open for you to walk out of. the slam of it reverberated through your body and you felt goosebumps when the breeze of the door blew against your back.

barely managing to open the door to your car, you let your things fall unceremoniously from your arms and clatter to the floorboard. eight months of life with jack had meant there were plenty of memories in the seat next to you and there would be far more waiting in your apartment. you weren’t ready for that, not right now. if you ever would be.

you moved to the driver’s side and got in, resting your head on the steering wheel as you tried to collect yourself. what you needed was a distraction, something to keep you from thinking about what you just did.

then your phone rings. one look at the contact name brings a bitter laugh from your throat, the sound broken and wet. this is the first time you’ve wished for work and unlike nearly every wish you’ve made in your life, you get instant results.

first question out of your mouth is about whether there’s an assignment that’ll keep you gone as long as possible. he says there’s nothing currently that doesn’t already have someone on it, but that there’s plenty of grunt work to be done that, when culminated and done all in a row, will keep you busy for nearly two months.

that sounds like heaven to you right now.

you tell him this and he chuckles, saying it’s not the first time he’s had an agent so desperate to be distracted. coordinates are sent to an airstrip eight hours away and even though you’re happy to drive the distance, you’re curious as to why the pilot couldn’t be assed to land at the one only three hours out. but before you’re able to voice this thought to champ, he’s already hung up.

you don’t want to, can’t find the strength to go back to your apartment. you can just buy the things you’ll need once you get to wherever and be done with it. the apartment was blanketed with landmine memories you didn’t want to go anywhere near right now, not before a mission. the moment one landmine is triggered, it’ll tell the others and send you into a blast that you honestly don’t think you’d recover from.

so with a sigh and a flick of the radio dial, you’ve got the saddest songs you know playing as loud as possible. you start your car and head toward the interstate and to the waiting plane, letting yourself go in favor of embracing bloody mary, the one that could handle pain and dish it back twice as harsh. it was time to forget jack daniels by using everything but.

jack didn’t know how to process what just happened. after eight life-altering, blissful months of being together, you just left. no real explanation except for the lingering “i don’t love you” he’s desperate to forget he heard spill from your mouth. he has no idea if he had done anything to drive you to leaving. if you would just tell him what he did, he’d repent for that and every other wrong thing he’s done in his life, if only it meant holding you in his arms again.

“LIKE A RHINESTONE COWBOY! RIDIN’ OUT ON A HORSE IN A STAR-SPANGLED RODEO!-”

he let it ring for a moment, his heart clenching at the fact you pulled the rhinestone cowboy stunt one last time before you walked out of his life. at this point he was hesitant to change it because then it would mean that you’d never do it again. you knew how much he despised the song and you went out of your way sometimes to remind him of its existence, but he could never grow tired of your wide smile when watching him react.

he barely schooled his voice before greeting the voice on the other line. “whiskey.”

“whiskey! good to hear from ya. listen, i got a job for you. won’t keep you gone for long, just a simple in and out, i know you’ve got places you’d rather be.”

last night he would have loved to hear those words come from his mouth. “give me everything you’ve got, champ. i don’t wanna be back for a while.”

the older man could sense that something was off but had the lick of sense required to not bring it up. instead, he told whiskey of some undercover work he needed someone on right away. two months, possibly more. the silver pony is waiting at the private airstrip three hours away and that he’ll be briefed on the plane. where exactly he’s headed isn’t of any consequence.

he packs a bag of his own clothes and a few of yours to help him sleep at night, preparing to submit himself fully to the agency. it wasn’t like he had someone to come home to anymore, no reason to do anything but work.

this undercover mission was gonna be his salvation.

you have a lot of regrets, a lot of things you’ve done that had you close to repenting. but when two months pass and it feels like you never left his apartment, you want to scream every atrocity you’ve ever committed at the top of your lungs if it meant holding him again.

not a word that came out of your mouth that morning was meant, but his safety was priority. it didn’t matter how your heart was bleeding, begging and pleading for you to not go through with breaking him. selfish is what you were, spending one last night in his arms and able to pretend that you could have something good happen for once in your life. he deserved more than that, he deserved all the love this world has to offer and more.

but that’s not how life goes.

so you kept your nose to the grindstone and worked till you bled and then worked till it scabbed and bled again. champ, thank god for champ, has been keeping jack as busy as he could reasonably ask to be. it kept you from thinking of jack and the way his dark eyes haunted your dreams. the way dream-jack would cry, voice cracking as he begged you to stay and tell him how he could fix whatever broke between you.

but there wasn’t anything jack had the power to fix. someone found his address and knew that he was yours, sending photos and calling you to make threats about getting revenge for their boss you killed on your last mission. you would rather offer yourself to the bastards on a silver platter than let anyone hurt your cowboy. if he was pulled into statesman business because of you, you don’t know what you would have done besides the fact that you could not be held responsible for your actions.

but what could you do, tell your boyfriend that you weren’t really in marketing after eight months together? that you killed people day in and day out, had the blood of hundreds on your hands and smeared that blood on his body when you came home to him?

you could just imagine how well that would go down.

you decided to make him hate you, convince him that you didn’t love him. that he wasn’t the motivation to keep going during missions, to stay safe because you didn’t want him to learn the truth about your work through news of your death.

you were many things, liar being on top of the list these days.

jack didn’t want to be in that house any longer than he needed to be. packing quicker than he had in nearly a year. he decided he’d leave his heart behind, damning the organ to seep into the floorboards, echoes of its beating permeating the air with every thunk of his boots against the hardwood.

if that house wasn’t where you were when “i love you” was spoken for the first time, he’d have sold it. if that bronco parked out front wasn’t the one you’d ride shotgun in, singing loudly to every song that sang through the fm dial, he’d have wrecked it.

jack found himself in a conundrum; he wanted to forget you and everything that made him fall in love with you, but he didn’t want to lose the only pieces of you that he had left.

the clothes you left here lost your smell far sooner than he thought they should have, and seeing every hanger in his closet in use, every garment accounted for, skewered him more than he thought it would.

when you spent the night there was always one hanger empty, and when he’d investigate as to the missing shirt’s whereabouts, it would always be on you. didn’t matter if you wore it buttoned or unbuttoned, or if you simply had it draped around you because it was another way to feel closer to him, even if he were only in the other room.

you were suffocating him in your memory and his heart and brain couldn’t choose whether to fight to breathe or let himself succumb.

it was another two weeks of light work when champ called you with a mission a bit more important than anything you’ve had in a while. a fellow agent sent to the badlands of montana hasn’t been making contact for far too long and it was your job to bring him home.

“mary, he’s one of our best. bring him home in one piece.”

“wouldn’t settle for less, champ. who is it, anyway? i’m hoping to god tequila isn’t who you’re thinking is one of your best.”

he chuckled and you could picture him shaking his head with a smirk. he was well aware of the somewhat friendly competition between the two of you and sometimes it was plenty amusing. other times, not so much. then he cleared his throat the way he only does when he’s dealing a harsh blow and your hair stood on end in preparation for what he was about to say.

“it’s whiskey, mary. we think his cover was blown.”

well, that was anticlimactic. “you say his name as if it’s supposed to mean something to me, champ. i’ve never met him a day in my life.”

he sputters for a second and isn’t sure whether he should call you on your shit or go along with your naivety since, if it were real, would be helpful in keeping you from making any rash decisions in the field.

see, champ caught on real early to the relationship statuses of two of his best agents. in the beginning he debated on whether or not to separate the two of you, but after a few months passed by and the quality of your work didn’t depreciate, he decided against it. let them have the happiness they earned, he figured, it wasn’t getting anyone killed.

for the sake of this productivity, he just pulled strings to keep the two of you from being assigned missions together. since the two of you never brought it up with him, he just assumed that you both agreed with his decision.

now he wasn’t so sure that either of you even knew that you were both statesman. oh fuck, this was gonna be fun, especially when they find out that he’d been knowing about the two of you, oh well, nothing to be done now. you were the only one he could trust with this operation and besides, it’s high time the two of you were completely honest with each other.

one thing jack’s learned during his capture, it’s that time was a social construct. the room he’s been in had no windows and the guard rotations were deliberately sporadic, purposefully switching shifts to fuck with his head. the minutes and hours and days blurred by pain and agony as they used nearly every possible torture method trying to get information from him that he didn’t know, stopping just short of killing him each time.

outside of his own blood pounding in his ears and the voices of his captors when they beat him, it was complete silence until a strained phone call was made outside of the door to his personal hell.

“your boss didn’t say he was statesman! i lost several good men on this operation, you owe me big time!” jack assumed they were talking about him, but wait a minute. didn’t they go after him because he was statesman? didn’t he slip up somehow and that’s what got him in this situation?

he doesn’t remember much from the fight he lost that ended with him in the very chair he was in right then, he just remembers them mentioning what he thought to be a name: bloody mary. he didn’t recognize the name from around the agency, so maybe instead of alluding to the beverage, they were hinting at the ghost that haunted mirrors. he didn’t like either option so he pushed it away, unsure of what this bloody mary had to do with him being here.

they’d been asking him about her ever since he got here, and for the first time he was honest during an interrogation. they still hit him, somehow convinced that he was involved with this mystery woman. what was even stranger was that they didn’t even give him some cockamamey evidence, doctored photos that could “attest” to his involvement.

“no! you send your men to come get him! and bring more to replace the ones your idiocy cost me!” a long silence from the man who’d led his interrogations, and a sigh. “have someone send the photos. he’s still not giving information… it’s been a week and he’s near dead, we push too hard and we lose any chance of getting the information… alright. let me know when they’re close.”

oh, they’re gonna bring photos pretty soon. finally he’ll have some sort of explanation as to why he’s here.

but then he hears gunshots outside of his little prison and his senses are immediately on edge. “secure the prisoner! secure the prisoner secure the-” the frantic shouts of one of the guards was cut off by a gurgling noise jack could only guess was his own blood.

this meant two things: someone was here to take whiskey and he had no idea whether he’d prefer a statesman rescue or for whoever his captors were trying to deliver him to. if the latter happens, maybe he can get a read on what kind of threat this “bloody mary” poses.

he’s never longed more for his whip and lasso and his revolver, to go out there and kill every single one of them that fucked with him. but he could barely stand or move as it was, leaving this room was a death sentence right now. stay put, he decided, and see what life has in store for him now.

he was never one to admire fictional characters all that much, but in that moment his mind wandered to the wizard of oz. he remembers watching it with you one night on your couch, you having won a bet that ended in you choosing the movie for movie night.

the tin man stood out the most to jack. here he was, an impenetrable force that yearned for a heart despite the weaknesses such an organ possessed. hypothetically, if the tin man were real, he would offer the man a bargain: your armor for my heart.

now jack wasn’t a con man. he wouldn’t say he was selling a fully functional heart all in one piece. no, he’d tell the tin man straight, that his heart was in pieces and has been pretty worn down over the years. after all, it isn’t like that armor of his hasn’t seen better days.

yeah, jack would be willing to do far too much to get just a scrap of that armor.

he’s too busy entertaining this idea through his hazy delirium that he doesn’t notice the door opening and one of the men approaching him in haste, hands beginning to grab at him, probably to take him away from whoever is attacking his prison.

they both hear the sound of footsteps from the doorway and whiskey’s vision is blocked by the man that was about to move his aching body from its crumpled position.

“turn around and step away from him. now!” the new voice shouted. it was a woman, he realized. what if this was the bloody mary in question? his broken mind could only imagine the opportunities that are falling at his feet.

the man turns, hands raised and whiskey could faintly make out the rapid breathing of the man scared shitless of the looming figure. “b-bloody mary, i-”

“save it. you’ve made a mistake crossing me, thornton. did you forget what happens to the men that dare fuck with me?”

there we go. this was perfect, exactly the woman he wanted to see. he had no idea what his future held, but getting an escort out of here by a woman who clearly wasn’t planning on leaving here without him (and wouldn’t hesitate to kill to ensure that outcome) was like a gift from god.

there was a silent screaming in the back of his mind that told him to pay more attention to the next time bloody mary spoke, that he was missing out on a critical detail by allowing himself to slip into near comatose.

“b-b-but i was gonna g-give you half the money once i handed him over! i swear it!”

“i don’t want your money, thornton. what i’d like back is the time i wasted tracking your slimy ass, but this will do.”

he hears a thunk and suddenly he’s covered in red and thornton’s body is crumpling to the ground, an arrow between his eyes and blood quickly pooling around him. before he passes out, he risks a look at the face of the crossbow-wielding woman who holds his life in her hands.

it’s you.

he has to be delusional. you can’t be here, splattered in blood and dirt and picking him up in your arms. his angel clad in crimson, one foot pressed to the dead man’s head as you yank the arrow out with force he didn’t think you had. you can’t be the one who asks him where his weapons are, jack lifting a trembling hand towards the trunk in the far corner as you pull out his trusted whip and lasso

you can’t be going back one by one to the men you left alive and ending their lives with barely contained rage as you guide him out of the prison he’s been trapped in for god only knows how long. and what was in the canteen you were emptying as you walked through towards the doors?

there was no way on god’s green earth that you were the one flicking open a zippo before tossing the chrome lighter on top of the puddle of what his brain is now telling him is lighter fluid, carrying him bridal style towards the cherry red ford edsel convertible as his hell went up in flames.

he feels himself be gently laid down in the back of the car, a soft hand coming up to cup his cheek and stroking away a tear jack didn’t realize he shed. it really was you, he realized as he met your eyes, eyebrows wrinkled in fear that he felt guilty for giving you.

“you’ll be alright, jack. we’re gonna get you some help, you’re gonna be okay, i swear it baby,” his heart clenched when your voice cracked at the end, his vision going black before he can say or do anything to soothe the ache he knows you’re feeling.

“you son of a bitch, you knew?!” jack knows that voice.

“of course i did, i wouldn’t be doing my job if i didn’t! and you two weren’t slackin off so i thought-” jack knew that voice too. but why did it seem as if they knew each other?

“so when it became apparent that i didn’t know that jack was a statesman, you didn’t think to tell me?!”

“it could have jeopardized the mission if i told you then!”

a loud slap echoes through the room as you loudly call champ a motherfucker, the insult followed by a demand for privacy.

a door clicks shut and for a second jack’s body is preparing him for another hit from an assailant or sparks of electricity from the car battery they electrocuted him with a time or two. his muscles tense all the same when instead of pain, much to his surprise, the touch is feather light and tender.

“jack… baby i’m so sorry, for everything i did. for leaving, for saying such hateful things,” he hears you sniffle and if he could move his body right then he’d wipe away the tears streaking your dirty face if he could move one. they had him so doped up on muscle relaxers and painkillers and whatnot that he was still unsure of whether you were even here.

“i didn’t mean any of it i swear, fuck i love you jack and-” you cut yourself off with the beginnings of a sob, taking a few heaving breaths before you were able to continue.

that is, until he felt your lips quivering against his in a kiss unlike any you’ve shared in the past. every kiss with whiskey was confident, whether it was the passionate connection of kiss-swollen lips as you made love or the gentle pecks when you were just being, cuddling during movie nights or when swaying around the kitchen while cooking. it was a confidence born of two people who knew they were meant to be together and would continue to be. that confidence was gone now.

the anxiety buried behind this kiss burned worse than the cigarettes his captors put out against his skin. you were scared he’d turn you away, tell you that he didn’t want you anywhere near him after how you broke his heart.

you flinch when he pushes his face closer to yours, trying to tame the way your lips shook because he loves you, he misses you, he forgives you. your eyes widen when he does this and your hands are immediately cupping his face and wiping away the tears that were starting to drop from his eyes.

“hello darlin’,” he chokes out. “it’s nice to see you.”

you let out a wet laugh at his reference. of course jack’ s gonna start singing conway right now. “it’s been a long while, you’re just as lovely as you used to be.” your hands hold his face firmly as you bend lower and let your lips linger on the ones you’ve been without for the past two months.

“will ya lay with me, sweetheart?”

“always, jack.”

you maneuver your body around jack’s in the bed he was laying in, humming in content when he kisses your forehead. there’s a lot of obstacles ahead for the two of you, but it’s not anything two statesman agents can’t handle with their hands intertwined.

jack was never happier to not have traded his heart for armor.

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