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#so instead i merely offer you the fact that their friendship is important as fuck and I love to write them as BFFs
gemalawasliveblogs · 2 years
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Dave's little one-pixel smile and how nice he is with Jade is really nice to see. They care about each other a lot and I just think that's important.
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princehrry-writings · 3 years
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Friends Don't
ahhhh, i hope you love it!! please send in requests!! let me know what you think, and if you like it maybe share with your friends?
wordcount: 3226
warnings: mentions of alcohol, maybe swearing? tbh I don't think anything else.
we love a good bff's to lovers :)
All Harry did was shrug him off and say his final goodbyes- heading back out to his car that he had been in not more than 20 minutes ago when he arrived to have dinner with Jeff, and followed the gravitational pull that always seemed to lead back to you.
or
Harry is your best friend that you're in love with, but neither of you will admit it.
.
.
.
.
“What are you doing here, it’s the middle of the fucking night H?” It was cold, too cold to stand there on your front porch in nothing but a big teeshirt and shorts. The smile on his face was cheeky, but when was it not with him.
“Just wanted to stop by, that’s all. Got bored…” He said and you sighed, shaking away the blush that wanted to creep up your neck. His hair was a bit messy and his clothes were wrinkled, like he’d been tossing and turning in them. He made his way into your house after you stepped aside to let him in and made himself comfortable like he always does when he comes over.
With a huff, he collapsed on your living room couch, you following in suit and cuddling into his side. It wasn’t uncommon for you to find yourself here in this position. The middle of the night was usually a time when Harry’s mind ran wild, you weren’t much different. Usually, it was the man himself plaguing your mind, but you’d never tell him that.
It’s ok, he’d never tell you that you were the reason he kept himself up at night either.
“Wanna go lay down?” You asked quietly, fidgeting with the rings on your best friend’s hand as the other tangled itself in your hair just the way he knew would relax you. A soft hum arose from him and you nodded, reluctantly separating your bodies and treading up to your room. Harry felt like he spent more nights here than at his own house.
-
Harry’s phone buzzed beside him, pulling his attention away from whatever Jeff had been talking about for the last 5 minutes. A message from you sat there on his screen asking if he wanted to come over and have a movie night and order take out. Another message popped up a few seconds later adding “I have wine 😏” and a smile crept onto his cheeks, something he was never able to control when it came to you. There wasn’t much you couldn’t get him to do, it was something about you that fascinated him. He felt safe with you, safe enough to do anything. He didn’t have to worry about something being leaked to the press or worse- being made fun of by you. He quickly typed back a reply saying he’d be there in 20 minutes and to call in the order to your favorite place not far from your house so he could pick it up on the way. Jeff finally stopped talking as Harry caught his attention, telling him he had to go.
“Wait what? We just got here, we haven’t even ordered yet! Where are you going?” Harry shrugged and said something came up and he had to go but the look in his eyes told Jeff everything he needed to know.
“So you’re leaving me to go see the girl you claim you’re not in love with?” A blush crept up Harry’s neck and onto his face, turning so the man couldn’t see it. With a shake of his head and a cough to clear the lump that had gathered in his throat, he turned back to his friend sitting in front of him.
“She’s my best friend, m’not in love with her!” He defended, wondering which one of them he was trying to convince more and pushing that thought to the back of his mind. The sound of Jeff scoffing, he swore, could be heard from outside the restaurant they were at right now, and the pointed look being directed at Harry was enough to make him want to shrink back into himself just to get away from it.
“H… I hate to break it to you, but friends don’t cancel other plans just to see each other…” Somewhere in his mind, Harry knew that- but that was a thought for another time. Right now, he was just focusing on making it to your house with your guys’ favorite takeout food and cuddling up to you on your couch or in your bed to watch movies he wouldn’t be paying any attention to in favor of watching your eyes light up during your favorite scenes, and drinking what some would say is a little too much wine for a Thursday evening. The two of you didn’t have to worry about that part though- you always had Fridays off.
All Harry did was shrug him off and say his final goodbyes- heading back out to his car that he had been in not more than 20 minutes ago when he arrived to have dinner with Jeff, and followed the gravitational pull that always seemed to lead back to you.
-
Loud music and large crowds were something Harry was accustomed to, he’d spent the majority of his teen years and all of his adult life around them, in the middle of them. What he wasn’t used to was you being there with him. He’d convinced you to have a night out with him and a friend that was in town and you hesitantly said yes. The two of you didn’t go out in public together very often, and when you did it was always very meticulous. You showed up separately, acted like you didn’t know each other, and tried to stay away from as many prying eyes as you possibly could. It wasn’t that Harry didn’t want to be seen with you or even that you didn’t want to be seen with him- it was just better for the both of you that your friendship stay out of the public eye. It was better for your job and it made things easier in your personal life as well. The last thing Harry wanted was for the media to start making rumors and for his fans to start ripping you apart like they had been known to do in the past.
The club you guys were at was very exclusive, and you had followed the same protocol of showing up at different times as to not be seen walking in together. You had sworn you’d never been around so many A-list celebrities in your entire life and you were starting to feel a little overwhelmed at all the people you knew of in the room, all the faces you’d seen so many times before only through a screen. You didn’t have much time to panic as Harry was whisking you off to meet the friend he’d told you about that was here. A very familiar Irish accent piqued your ears as you got closer to the bar near the back of the crowded room, a head of brown hair, that in your mind should still be blond, peaking out amongst the people surrounding him. Of course, out of all the friends he has, it had to be Niall Horan he was talking about. Someone that you were very familiar with. Niall had always been your favorite in One Direction and you made sure you reminded Harry of that every chance, uh sorry, every chonce you got.
Memories of the two of you sitting in your car as a 1D song came on the radio and you shushing him as Niall started singing- reminding him that this was “the best part” and turning it up louder than it really needed to be flashed through your mind and you tried your hardest to fight the blush creeping up your neck as you stopped in your tracks, halting both of you from going any further. You shot him a glare and it took everything in you not to slap that smirk off of his face.
“Really? And you didn’t even warn me? What the fuck H?” If your heart wasn’t racing before, it certainly was now at the thought of meeting Niall Horan. You didn’t even freakout this hard when you met Harry for the first time. That encounter seemed like it was yesterday and 100 years ago all at the same time.
“M’a little hurt you didn’t freak out over me like this, love! What does he have that I don’t?” Faking offense, his hand coming up to hold his chest as if you’d actually hurt him. You scoffed and pushed his shoulder away, fully prepared to run and hide in the bathroom the rest of the night. You freaked out over Harry in a different way. One that you didn’t let him ever see. And sure- maybe you went home after the first time you met and screamed your head off to your best friend in your hometown- but he didn’t need to ever know that. But now here you were, 20 feet away from Niall fucking Horan, your teenage celebrity crush, and you didn’t know if you were gonna make it to see tomorrow.
Why you were so freaked out about meeting him you weren’t quite sure. Maybe it was that he was one of Harry’s closest and oldest friends and you wanted him to like you (for reasons you weren’t ready to admit to yourself, let alone Harry) or maybe it was merely the fact that you spent the entirety of your high school career with pictures of him on your wall and on the front of your school binder.
“I’m gonna die tonight…” You muttered to yourself as Harry began dragging you behind him once again, over to the open bar stools next to Niall.
“Oi there he is!” The Irishman turns to see the pair of you, pulling Harry into a long overdue hug.
“Hey mate,” The smile on Harry’s face is one you don’t get to see often as it only comes out when he feels a weight lift off his shoulders. You knew seeing Niall was something he’d been looking forward to, although you didn’t quite know it was Niall until less than 2 minutes ago. Sometimes life gets to be a little too much and having someone that gets it like Niall does is important. You could only offer so much as you had no idea what it was like to walk in his shoes.
“You must be the famous Y/N this guy never stops yappin’ about!” The smile is replaced by a flush you’ve seen plenty of times before. He almost looks like a dog with his tail between his legs as he flicks the brunets forehead.
“Aye, no need for that,”
“I guess that’s me!” You say with a smile, expecting for Niall to extend his hand. He, instead, pulls you into a bone crushing hug that you know 14 year old you would have died for, but current you can’t help but wish it was Harry’s arms wrapped tightly around your body like this. He hugs you like this all the time, if not tighter, but it doesn’t seem like you could ever get enough of the man with green eyes standing next to you with that lopsided smile sewn onto his face.
“M’ Niall, it’s nice to meet you!”
---
Ok. Maybe those last two shots of tequila Niall had talked you into weren’t the best idea. Maybe, dragging Harry out to the dance floor when you were just drunk enough to tell him anything wasn’t the best idea. Maybe you didn’t really care right now because the feeling of his hands on your body in a way that wouldn’t be considered platonic was too good to do anything about.
Drunk you has been known to almost spill a certain 8-letter phrase that sober you would rather keep to herself. Drunk you wishes you could get over yourself and just say it, so every time- like clockwork- you get close to his ear and begin the little phrase. But somehow, by some magical happenstance, an outside force steps in. Almost as if the universe is trying to tell you something. You just can’t figure out if it means don’t tell him at all or don’t tell him like this.
Just as you felt yourself lean in and brush your lips against the outer shell of his ear Niall showed up out of nowhere letting us know he was heading to the bathroom and joking about how if he wasn’t back in 20 minutes to call security.
“What was that you were about t’say love?” He leaned in close to your ear as you had done to him not even 30 seconds ago before you were interrupted. In his inebriated state, it sounded more like “wha’ was tha’ ya were abou’ t’say love,” as he always talked a little sloppier when he’d had a few drinks. He says that when he bit the end of his tongue off that it got rid of his little lisp but it didn’t really. He’s just never sober enough to remember.
“I-uh, I don’t remember now,” You giggled, playing it off as drunken rambling. He nods, pulling you closer, if that was possible at this point, and swaying back and forth off beat to the music. His arms wrap tightly around your waist, face buried in your neck where he felt most at home. Your arms find purchase wrapped around his neck, your head placed gently atop his. To any wandering eye, it would seem as if the two of you were in love with each other.
-
Someone leaked pictures of your night out to the media. Harry doesn’t even bother to knock as he barges into your house to see you wandering around your kitchen putting things away, acting like you had no idea that the whole world thought you were dating your best friend. Because you didn’t. Your phone had been off all day in favor of getting things done around the house.
“Love, please don’t be mad…”
“Why, what did you do?”
“Have y’not seen?”
“...Seen what, H?”
“Shit,” He muttered under his breath, walking closer to you. He looked like a dog with his tail between his legs. You only grew more suspicious as he pulled his phone out, swiping around until he found what he was looking for.
A cold sweat broke out over your body, throat suddenly dry, heart beginning to race. What you were seeing was a picture of you and Harry with your hands all over each other on the dance floor of the club you were at last Friday night. Your name was attached to the tweet along with Harry’s, obviously, along with other pictures of the two of you together from that night. You felt a little sick.
You were angry that you let your guard down in public but all of your feelings of anguish and sickness washed away when you saw the look of pure fear in Harry’s eyes. He was absolutely terrified that you were going to push him away after this. His mind raced from all of the possibilities. He was terrified to lose you.
“I didn’t mean for this t’happen, pet. Promise! M’so sorry, I-” You shut down his worry, gently placing your hand on his cheek, brushing your thumb under his eye.
“Hey, I know. It’s ok. It’s ok.” You pulled him into your arms, wrapping yourself around him tightly. He melted into you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. This is where he felt most at home. Safe in the arms of the girl he loves. His heart sinks at the idea that she would never know. He doesn’t know if he could live with the idea of you meeting someone else. Holding someone else the way you're holding him now. Tightening his grip on your waist, he pulls his head away from your neck, resting his forehead against yours.
“Y/n… I- god why is it so hard f’me t’say this.” He stumbles over his words, trying to find the courage to say what he’s been waiting for so long to tell you.
“Say what, Haz?” You whispered, heart picking up speed. Your fingers gently brushed away a stray curl that had fallen into his eyes.
He was quiet for a beat, looking anywhere but your eyes. When he finally did make eye contact, your breath caught in your throat. His eyes held a look you had seen so many times before. A look you told yourself didn’t mean anything so many times that for a moment, you almost believed it.
“The way I feel about you…” He whispered. This time, it was his hand that gently met your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye. His eyes flitted back and forth between your lips and your irises.
“Baby, for so long I tried to tell myself that there was nothing here. That we really were just good friends, but we both know…” His voice didn’t raise any higher as he said this. You could feel his hand shaking on your cheek. You held his wrist, returning his intense gaze and nodding your head subtly.
You did know. You hadn’t quite realized that he knew too, but you knew you certainly did. Maybe it was a good thing that someone leaked those pictures.
“Y/n, my darling Y/n… I love you.” Tears welled in your eyes as it felt like the weight of the galaxy had just been lifted from your shoulders.
“I know you do,” Your voice broke, trying to keep the happy tears at bay,” And I love you too.”
He closed the already minuscule distance between the two of you, matching his lips to yours. He poured everything he had ever felt for you into this kiss, holding you even tighter against him. You gave him everything you had and more, hoping that this kiss would be enough to truly tell him how you felt. I love you just isn't big enough. There aren’t enough words in all of the languages combined to truly describe the way you feel about the man kissing you right now.
You fit perfectly together, like one soul that's been split in two and destined to reunite over and over again throughout time. You truly believe you’ve fallen in love with Harry many times before, in different lives, as different people. The connection was just too pure for that not to be the case.
He broke the kiss, both of you gasping for air, him muttering, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” between every breath and wiping away the tears that had managed to escape onto your cheeks.
“What are we gonna do?” You asked after you’d both caught your breath.
“Well, first things first, I think I have a question to ask you…” He trailed, a gentle smirk pulling onto his face.
“M’love, will you be my girlfriend?” You beamed, looking into the green eyes before you, nodding your head more prominently.
“Yes,” You giggled as he cut you off with a kiss. His hands roamed the span of your back, cheekily dipping below your waistline, onto your ass. He rubbed his hands around before you playfully slapped them away, not being able to swipe the smile off your aching cheeks.
“We’ll figure this out, together. As long as I have you, the rest of the world doesn’t matter. We’ll take it one step at a time.” He says with an adoring smile.
The rest of the world doesn’t matter, you decide. You have him. And he’s all you need.
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ktheist · 4 years
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1 | friend in me.
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“don’t confuse your party friends with your real friends.” (x) 
muses. party friend!jungkook x reader ft. bestfriend!taehyung ft. ex-boyfriend!namjoon
genre. university au. fwb. f2l.
words. 6.1k
warnings. mentions of break up, mild exhibition, alcohol use, future mentions of joint, future smut, mature content
alternative title. to my dear friend.
final part. exclusives only (x)
note. this fic hasn’t been showing up in searches no matter how many times i repost and it’s got a special place in my heart so i really want it to reach the audience, that’s why i made a few changes in hopes to beat the odds lol. enjoy!
x
striking up an unlikely pact to look out for each other’s backs at parties, is the last thing you expect to do with jeon jungkook. sure, you may or may not find a reason to laugh at his lousy antics and corny pick up lines - he’s also a great kisser but that’s besides the point.
the point is, you’d like to keep him as that - the friend that you meet at parties and parties only. so when you see him on your campus grounds, naturally your first instinct is to stop, turn the opposite way you’re heading and where he’s coming from - and start fast-walking to the other end of the campus like the devil is after you.
except that devil comes in the form of denim jacket, white undershirt and wavy dark hair that easily falls over doe eyes that seem to sparkle when you freeze at the sound of your name and turn around to face him with an awkward smile.
he breaks into a mini jog, leaving his friends that you’ve never seen before, behind. your own friends who you’ve been walking with and ditched at the sight of him, gawping at you and the new face from the spot where you decided to leave them at.
why couldn’t they have gone on their merry way - regardless if you’d paused and trekked to the opposite direction you were heading to?
jungkook skids to a stop in front of you, pretty pink lips quirking after he tilted his head to shift his hair out of his eyes instead of pushing it back with his hands.
“hey,” he greets, glancing down at his scuffing vans before meeting your gaze again, the tip of his tongue running over his bottom lip before retreating back into his mouth, leaving a sheen of moistness on his lips, “i didn’t know you went here.”
willing yourself to smile, you push your hair to the back of your ear before wrapping your arms around your chest, “yeah,” you drag out with an awkward chuckle, not as oblivious as he is of the stolen glances coming from the people passing through the walkway.
“what are you doing here though?” you notice his own friends that he ditched waiting for him several feet away - a group of attractive men and women who clearly belong to the equally high place group from your own faculty.
and yet here he is, talking to you - the ghost with rounded glasses sitting atop her nose and faded chapsticks on her lips. out of all the days you could have looked more zombie-esque, jungkook had to show up at your faculty today.
he’s nice enough not to point it out though as his lips turn into an ‘o’ shape. if you focus, you’d probably see the light bulb going off in his head as the answer to your question hits him. though at this point, you’ve already been hit by your own realization of the reason for there being more people walking around with mechanical appendages and remote control of every kinds. it must be-
“we’re here for the robocup tournament,” he grins, excitement apparent in the way his eyes seem to widen as you can almost hear the screws in his brains working before the question tumbles out of his mouth-
“what about you? are you joining?”
you want to laugh.
and that’s the thing about jungkook - he’s so good at reading you that he knows something’s up. brows knitting together, “what’s... up?”
the shaking of your head is purely reactionary - you’ve made a few friends who came around to compete at times your faculty was the one to hosted it, like now. it’s not as serious as it seemed to be but it’s not entirely something you joke around either since it involved someone’s blood, sweat and tears to make the cut but-
“guess you haven’t heard about the long standing tradition of the circuit breaker’s string pulling. the competition’s rigged.” despite your too willing trip down memory land, you still let your eyes dart around in case anyone’s listening. after you’re sure no one was, only then do you finally go on, “every year, they pick a judge’s kid as part of the team - even if they weren’t enrolled in seollyu and were in some other non-robotics related university, they’ll get close to them and keep them around until the competition. one year, one of them even went as far as dating a judge’s daughter when they couldn’t recruit her into their team.”
swallowing down the bile, you pretend not to notice the complete downturn of his lips as you roll your shoulders in a shrug out of the need of having something to do that doesn’t require focusing on the conflicted, purse lipped frown on jungkook’s face.
“oh wow, we never heard anything like that in beongju.” he murmurs, eyes drawn to the grass a feet away as he contemplates.
“it’s okay, what matters is you guys have fun.” you wave a dismissive hand, smile more natural but still sporting its awkward tucks.
“yeah,” jungkook nods before he meets your gaze, smiling in a half-hearted attempt to ease his own mind, “who knows? maybe this year, beongju will come out victorious.”
you nod, chest blooming with hope - a wishful thinking perhaps, “maybe.”
it’s when his eyes twinkle with a different kind of excitement that you know the matter of the competition is past him, and that’s your cue to go.
“hey, are you-“
“i have a class to-
you both stop at the same time, staring at the other for the longest moment before jungkook offers for you to continue, “you first.”
“um,” you would have deflect it back to him out of politeness. that is, if you didn’t know that he was going to ask you if you were free. possibly to grab lunch or a smoothie somewhere. but that’s the thing, outside of parties, you’re a completely different person altogether. right now, you’re the all-work, no-play study-hard. none of your equally study hard friends are aware of how you are at parties - none of the people you know, know how you are at parties because you made sure to attend only those you’re sure you wouldn’t run into acquaintances. of course it’s difficult and there are a few familiar faces you can identify as people from your faculty at every party but barely which is a safe amount. so it doesn’t make sense to break the unspoken, mutual understanding of the core you and jungkook’s friendship is built on. he might have forgotten how important it was for you that you were strictly ‘fun’ friends, so it’s your job to remind him, “i have class right now.”
you take a step back in preparation to bolt towards said nonexistent on-going class, “but hey, good luck on robocup. oh yeah, what were you gonna tell me?”
jungkook’s “oh - uh,” shouldn’t have sent waves of relief to you the way it does, but when he mumbles a “nothing - it was nothing.” you couldn’t help but suppress a grateful sigh.
on any other occasion, with a person completely separate from jeon jungkook, you would have pressed on - encouraged them to say what they initially wanted to say. but instead, you shoot him a smile, “oh -okay. guess i’ll see you around?”
“uh,” it’s clear as day that he doesn’t want to just leave it up to chance to bump into you in this big building with at least a thousand occupants coming and going everyday throughout the competition but the way smacks his lips shut tells you he there’s something holding him back, so he settles with a, “yeah... see you around.”
x
“you know,” you pause, tendrils of reluctance forbidding you from relaying the tale of how you and jungkook met in hopes it was indicative enough but judging from the way jisoo has her eyebrows raised, lisa with her knowing smile, taehyung and jimin expectantly waiting but with the first actually shooting you an meaningful stare - it seems like you have no choice but to say it-
“we spoke a few times at different parties and realize we have the same party mutual and get invited to the same parties so... we decided to hang together... at parties.”
“hang,” lisa echoes, underlying tone couldn’t have been more obvious as she grins from ear to ear.
“please, no way in hell do you just hang with jeon fucking jungkook when there’s booze and a dozen of empty rooms involved.” jisoo comes barreling through like a bulldozer, hands in the air as she squeals at whatever scenario her mind is cooking up in her head.
laughter trickles out of your mouth as you hide your face in your palms in an attempt to avoid jisoo and lisa’s eyes and the things that they’re hinting at with a mere gaze.
“why?” taehyung’s baritone finally hits the air as he leans back against the recliner. once the silence settles in a second later and all eyes turn his way, he adds, “not that it’s any of our business but,” he shrugs, “he’s not really your crowd - not any of our crowd.”
that’s the million dollar question. taehyung hates beers and crowded places - which is a surprise given his social butterfly-ness among all five of you. jimin, jisoo and lisa do go parties - those that your closest friends would be at. otherwise, they aren’t adventurous as you.
maybe jimin has a another side that you don’t know - it’s a known fact that he has other friends. dance friends, drinking friends, and whatever type of people with similar interests who flock a certain direction.
just like how you had jungkook and the group of friends you hung out with at parties.
“i mean, my dance friends aren’t exactly your kind of crowd either,” jimin interjects from the floor, head lulled to the back to look at taehyung, “remember how you wanted to avoid hoseok at all costs after i brought you to a practice once?”
“yeah,” you instantly second, hand gesturing to the man in a ‘exactly what he said’ manner before turning to the taller guy, “everyone makes friends where their usual friends aren’t.”
“i guess,” he cedes after what felt like the longest pause in your history of friendship.
it is that moment, just as your muscles begin to relax, that your phone dings with a notification. unbeknownst to you that you still command the attention in the entire room, you cluelessly let check out the new text message.
koo: we lost ):
“it’s him.” lisa announces, the bed shaking as she scoots away when you try to swat her thigh.
“and she has him saved as koo,” she - without any trace of intentionally constructed pun, coos, hands clasped together next to her tilted head as she bumps it with jisoo who’s mimicking her gestures.
“he just texted to say he lost,” you clarify, shaking your head at the two girls’ antics.
not that it changes anything as jisoo leans her whole body against lisa, an arm on her forehead in a troubled manner, “now i wish i had a boyfriend.”
lisa hums in agreement, her long limbs extending to wrap around the older girl’s torso as she rests her chin on top of jisoo’s dark brown tresses.“me too, sweetie. me too.”
typing out a ‘i’m so sorry. it’s okay they don’t deserve your talent anyway ):’ with a mixture of emojis, you hit send just before turning to what jimin is saying.
“...go to one. i heard alpha sig is having one tomorrow,” then he turns to you, as though you bear an abundance of knowledge about which place is having a party and on what day, “right ____?”
it takes you a moment to piece together what he said. you didn’t hear the beginning but you’re sure it’s something along the lines of jimin setting the two lonely singles to break their 2 month no-party streak and maybe get that boyfriend they wanted.
“jimin, i’m not sure,” you say shortly before turning to the two girls,“not that that many good, upstanding citizen of men go to the parties i went to though but maybe there’s a miracle waiting for you girls,” you smile in genuine hopefulness while referring to an entirely hopeless place. but it turns into an emphatic one as the two girls fake cry about the minimal chance they have to get a - in what you could make out of  jisoo’s fake bawling - hot, sexy party boyfriend. whatever that meant.
you don’t have the time to confirm it when your phone dings again.
koo: thanks i can always count on you to be real w me 🥺🥰
another grey bubble pops pushes the text you’re reading upwards.
koo: you coming to alpha sig’s party?
koo: we have to be here for the closing ceremony tmr anyway
koo: help me make good memories before i leave seollyu 🥺
you suppress the urge to roll your eyes at that. he’s only been here for one day and he got invited to one of the most hard-to-get-in parties on the campus.
naturally, you and jimin were invited from your underlying reputations. and naturally, whoever you bring is invited too.
except you’re not a fan of going to parties that you know you’d meet the exact people you didn’t want to meet.
lisa peeks at your phone the second time - and you didn’t even notice until she screams, “___’s going to alpha sig’s!”
“oh my god, will he be there?” jisoo leans her entire body over lisa in a reckless abandon to get a peek of what the younger one saw only to have you hold your phone away.
“um? privacy? anyone?” you offer while jisoo pouts.
“duh, she’s going because of him.” lisa says im a matter-of-factly, “otherwise, she wouldn’t even entertain the thought of going to any party infested with people we already had to see sober.”
“am not.” you counter, the matter of replying already long forgotten as you cross your arms over your chest, phone tucked in between the side of your boob and hand, “if i’m going, it’d be because i want to!”
“so you’re going?” jisoo blinks, eyes twinkling with hope. so are lisa’s.
you have no choice but to turn your cheek to a laughing park jimin on the floor. his pupils disappearing behind his lids. clearly, he’s not going to back you up. so you turn to the only other person who you thought would.
“if tae’s going then i’ll go,” you declare, already feeling the triumph of what the man would choose from his precedent choices. “not that you guys need me to get in since jimin’s already-“
“sure.” the taller man announces.
you’re forced to make a double take while your jaw drops in your lap along with jisoo and lisa’s while jimin blinks in surprise from your periphery.
completely conscious of the gazes boring into his skull, taehyung attempts to casually shrug it off as a- “since you guys are going, you know.”
jisoo yelps in celebration before going “great, who’s up for some chicken?” shooting up and sending the mattress shaking as she takes big steps over your legs and hops off the bed. hands planted on her hips, she glances around the room with the residue of a pleased smile from the decision of all five of you finally going to a party together.
“me!” lisa follows suit with the exception that she’s crawling on her hands and knees to get off the bed.
“me but i don’t want to get up.” jimin whines, unmoving from his spot which is lying on the fluffed pink carpet as taehyung’s birthday present to his otherwise creme themed room.
“come on, park. get your ass off the floor and to the parking lot - get it, park jimin goes to the parking lot?” jisoo begins tugging on his wrist, the sight rather comical considering how she’s trying to make a man twice her size sit up, let alone move to get to the car seeing as he’s the only one with one.
lisa shares a doubtful look with you and taehyung at the poorly made pun, questioning why jimin seems to be the only one chuckling but then again, he’s always been the easiest to entertain.
after huffing and puffing, jisoo finally plucks the boy off the floor. but getting him to walk the distance from his apartment to the car is another feat.
it’s when their voices echo in the hallway, and you and a certain taller man is left in the room, do you notice the difference in this silence compared to the rest as he pushes himself up.
“are you going for real?” you finally ask, throwing your feet over the bed.
taehyung’s lips pucker as he contemplates the pros and cons, “what’ll i do if i don’t go? binge watch maze runner and be reminded of the fact that all third movies suck?”
maybe he doesn’t hate parties as much as you initially thought. after all, it’s been a year since he vomited all over kim sowon while making out on the couch at alpha sig’s.
you grin, elbowing the man as you both make your way out of the room, “hey, maybe you could find yourself a girlfriend while you’re at it.”
taehyung’s laugh doesn’t reach his eyes but you chalk it up with the jitters of the thought of having alcohol course through his veins and surrounded by bodies on the dance floor, “huh, yeah.”
x
the day fly by between getting to classes and getting lunch - it was a feat to convince everyone to go to dumpling place just a little bit off campus but you’d managed and subsequently successfully avoided running into jungkook for the day.
“bih, what the fuck?” lisa gawks, jaw descended to the ground as she stares at your mini black crop top that stops a few inches above your high-waist ripped jeans.
if you didn’t show up to classes in sweats and oversized sweaters, round glasses and hair always up in your laziness to make them look presentable - every day, maybe your ability to throw on some eye make up and highlights over your foundation wouldn’t have been so much as a surprise.
unlike you, your friends have always been on top of their game when it comes to appearing like functioning members of society. the clothes they have now have also been worn to class before - that’s how you know their confidence is sky high while yours require a little bit of help depending on what you wear.
why they decided to adopt a munchkin like you into their otherwise perfect clique, you’ll never know - but maybe it had something to do with you looking like a lost puppy in your first year with your round glasses and the thick books you carry around. it was a matter of time you ran into someone and drop them - that someone being jisoo.
after that, the rest was history - your prejudices towards groups of attractive people have never been so diminished.
your hair bounces gently as you hop into the passenger seat, giggling shyly at the attention you’ve garnered with your otherwise usual getup for a fun time.
“if i knew you won’t have any problems surviving off skinny jeans and cute tops, i would have burned those baggy clothes a long time ago.” jisoo confesses, red lips curled into an impressed ‘o’ as she takes in your appearance.
you gasp, truly offended to know your day-to-day choice of outfit has never been any of your friend’s preference yet only now do they make it known - talk about fake friends! “don’t you insult my comfy clothes like that!”
a light bump on her shoulder forces her to tear her gaze away and turn her cheek to the grinning girl next to her, “maybe she has a reason to dress cute.”
and just like that, the two breaks out into coos. sending you signals with their entire face muscles as jimin chuckles from the driver’s seat.
“but you know, this is how ___ usually dress up for parties even like before she met jungkook.”
you send praises to the gods for sending you this blessing of a friend as you fix the two girls a smirk, posing like a model as much as the cramped space allows you, “nah, i got it from my momma.”
an onslaught of protest - denials - mixed with cheers erupt as you begin to poorly mimic that of models with your limbs pointing in every direction and body bending in weird angles. it doesn’t take long before laughter tumbles out of everyone’s mouth, the front seaters included - taehyung had achingly turned in his seat to attend your fashion show while jimin stole glances in the rearview mirror.
x
yoo jeongyeon is the first to wave you over. if there’s a grey area where party friends and real friends merge together, it’ll be her. you’ve gone to parties together and had fun - though the last time you did, you ended up waking up on the same bed with some guy on the floor.
jin? jun? jeong? j-something grinned when he woke up to the sight of you two, “so... can i get you girls’ number?”
jeongyeon didn’t bother to hold back her grimace and you’d strutted into the bathroom as if you didn’t hear him.
“kim taehyung, lisa manoban and kim jisoo.” she studies each one with an impressed, “how did jimin and ____ manage to haul your asses out and over here?’
“the single life they’ve been walking has finally slapped them in the face and they finally want-“ you get cut off by lisa’s fake chuckle that sounds every bit forced.
“-wasted.”
“-boyfriends!”
they end up saying at the same time. while jisoo is finds no fault in her confession, lisa’s face is heating up - coming second next to you when it comes to shying back into her shell when topics like these come to light.
“taehyung too.” jisoo hooks her hand around the aforementioned man’s arm, stopping him from slowly disappearing into the crowd like a certain park jimin has, her other one around younger girl.
“jeongyeon, you have introduce us to cute guys or we’ll end up dying from all this single-ness!”
at that, the woman burst into laughter, hand on her stomach as she tries and fails to suppress it.
“i don’t know,” she wipes a tear from the corner of her eyes, “isn’t that more of ____’s specialty?”
“uh,” it takes a heartbeat for you to register what jeongyeon is saying before the same heart in your chest crashes against the ground at her next words.
“everyone knows,” a meaningful smile quirks on her lips, “about you and-“
“i- uh, i think i heard jackson calling me - something about a group project.” you quickly say, cursing yourself for the less than plausible excuse to get away.
and the three girls think so too as they call you out for it but you don’t stop until they’re out of earshot and out of the spotlight, ending up at a table full of booze.
you pop a can open, letting the bitter taste wash over your suddenly dry throat. the alcohol hasn’t got to you yet but you know it will and maybe that’s the only thing you have going on as you walk around, waving to people you know and lingering to talk with some, noticing that most of them are halfway to getting drunk.
some time later, you spot jisoo, lisa and jeongyeon dancing with some of your close friends. beer in their hands. you wonder how they’re going to find a boyfriend or even a hook up if they just keep to their circle - that was the clear as day distinction between you and them.
where they feel the most comfortable surrounded with familiar faces - regardless of whether they like them - you find comfort on a room full of strangers and the knowledge that you wouldn’t see them anymore after that.
but that wasn’t the case for jungkook. after one too many parties and several ‘hey, i was hoping i’d see you’s, a sense of camaraderie starts forming. of course, rules don’t apply where it would in a normal, socially sober setting.
you were friends as much as you were fucking like rabbits. finding comfort in mornings where you wake up without a sense of recollection, a throbbing headache and a lump of body underneath the sheets only to sigh in relief upon finding out who it was as though to say ‘oh thank god it’s you and not some rando i won’t know how to politely kick out while emphasizing that i have class in like 5.’
you embark on a visual searching journey to look for the same boy who wouldn’t mind if you had to shut the door in his half-awake face on mornings you had to get ready for class and still smiled at you later that night when you meet at a different party - until your gaze lands on a pair of brown eyes.
instead of wide and doe-like, the one that captured yours are hooded and heavy, boring into the windows of your soul. all of a sudden, you’re brought back to the same time last year. back when you were just a freshie with a stomach full of butterflies as you shyly look away from those piercing eyes.
but now, all you feel is your stomach rearranging and bile almost rising to your throat as you take a swig of the beer before melding into the crowd.
alpha sig is known for their closeness with circuit breaker, having been been sponsored by your own faculty for those with outstanding achievements to stay on-campus.
but none of the circuit breakers ever come to these parties - or at least, he never did.
almost as though the stars and planets aligned to manifest your only thought, a familiar voice wraps around the syllables of your name. and you would have continued on your merry way and pretend like you didn’t hear anything, if only you’re not in a hallway where there’s least people and subdued music compared to the dance floor you just escaped from.
“i heard you’ve been around,” kim namjoon stands at the end of the hallway, decked in plain gray t-shirt underneath a leather jacket and black pants. he takes easy, casual steps towards you with a dimpled smile that couldn’t have been more vain, “but i couldn’t believe my ears,” his shoulder line jolts as he shrugs, “well, until now, at least.”
“who would’ve thought? the cute ___ who blushed from a simple peck would have this side to her.” he stands a good half a head over you, his cologne’s changed from the last time you’d come in such a close proximity like you are now.
“yeah,” you drag out in a half-singing voice, face schooled into an unfazed expression, “i mean, it’s better than going around tricking girls into sleeping with you, right?”
at that, his smile instantly drops into a hard set frown as he lowers his voice, “i didn’t ‘trick’ you into having sex with me,” his lips quirk up at possibly a recollection of that night, “as i recall, you begged me to take your virginity.”
“that was before i knew your shitty motives to get brownie points from my dad just so you could win a stupid competition,” your voice is equally low and threatening, body heating up from the remembrance of those unreplied texts and the look in his eyes when you approached him that monday after the tournament - like he didn’t even know you.
namjoon laughs - the sound dripping with mockery as he throws his head back slightly, “come on, that was like a year ago. get over it.”
that’s it.
that’s when your mind is the clearest. no amount of beer could tell you otherwise - that this man right here doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt on the occasions that your friends begin spilling hot tea about the leader of circuit breaker and the things the members have done to win. they didn’t know about you and namjoon - nobody really does. you should have known those late night meetings and nothing but a polite smile when you pass in the hallways - were all red flags.
ones that you willfully ignore in the guise of ‘i’m not ready to tell everyone yet’s and ‘it doesn’t matter, if nobody knows, right? as long as i know you’re my girl’s
“you’re a dick.”
you push past him, cursing internally when he doesn’t budge and you’re the one who ends up with an almost dislocated shoulder.
it is only when you’re pushing a through the sea of bodies and swatting hands that try to grope your ass, does a certain doe-eyed, bunny smile enter your vision.
almost instantly, the urge to pinch the hand on your lower back disappears after knowing who its owner is. you’re pressed up against each other - the dance floor doesn’t allow much room for personal space and you’ve shared your personal spaces with each other far too many times to need that kind of distance from each other.
“i was looking for you,” the alcohol in his breath doesn’t feel all that repugnant as he nears his mouth to the shell of your ear, igniting a fire that kim namjoon had set up with the previous exchange.
he stands straighter, lips puckered sulkily as he swayed your bodies together, “we lost and everyone in my team had girlfriends or boyfriends to comfort them-”
your hands that cup his face and digs into his messy tresses make him clamp his mouth shut. the gentlest protrusion of his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows in anticipation.
he asked and you shall grant it.
girlfriend. fuck buddy. what difference does it make?
“i know, koo. i’m sorry you wasted your time on that dumb competition.” you purr, noticing how his gaze becomes glazed as he steals a glance at your lips before meeting your eyes again.
a heartbeat later, you’re pressing your mouth against the softest pair of lips you’ve ever known. mentally, you make a note to ask what he uses to keep them smooth and kissable.
he snaps out of his stupor a moment later, hands snaking down to grab your ass like he’s done this a million times before and knows just how to get you moaning into his mouth. almost as natural as breathing, he slips his tongue past your lips tasting you.
another moan escapes you when he begins kissing down your chin, trailing sloppy kisses on your neck and suckling on the one spot that gets your heart palpitating on your chest. hands tucking on his pleated outer shirt for the sake of having something to hold.
you bring jungkook’s face to yours, noticing the sheen on his pinker lips before pressing another deep kiss. he doesn’t to think twice to react. one hand on your free hand slipping underneath your crop top. when someone shove into jungkook, almost sending you tumbling backwards and ending up doing the same to another person - jungkook curses. “fucking drunktards.”
a giggle escapes your lips, “pot calling the kettle black? we were probably bumping into people on nights we were shit faced drunk.”
“probably.” he shrugs, fingers lacing around your wrist as he guides you off the dance floor and into the kitchen where he doesn’t waste a second in hoisting you up onto the counter and slips in the space between your legs.
“hello.” you murmur, resting your forehead against his, cheeks hot and body aflame.
“hey, beautiful.” he fixes you a lazy grin, lips drawing closer to your mouth but before he manages to close the hair breadth’s distance, he stops.
“wait.” he murmurs against your lips, eyes glued to them as though he’s picturing another part of him on them.
“what?” you whisper, just as enticed by his own lips as your try to pull him closer with your arms that’s wrapped around his neck.
“are you drunk?” are his next words and you’re well aware the basis of where it spurred on.
once upon several parties ago, you’d included stopping you from putting on a risque show if your drunken self ever abandoned your self-restraint. jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t love attention per se but he doesn’t shy away from it either.
“i’m not,” you assure, drawing closer to his lips by the second like moth drawn to flames. but you have enough sense to tilt your head to steal a glance towards the direction where you’ve been feeling a hole being drilled into your skull. your heart skips a beat when you catch namjoon’s eyes - he’s leaning against the wall with his friends either standing or sitting on the couch, beer in one hand.
“but i need your help to make someone jealous.”
jungkook follows your gaze towards namjoon and his friends a few feet away. it doesn’t take much for him to piece two and two together - especially after your a apparent animosity while telling him about the competition being rigged.
“ah,” he hums - you could just hear the smile in his voice. your knees weaken at the touch as you begin kissing the patch of skin closest to your lips which is his jawline. “i don’t know if i should be sad or happy that you’re finally agreeing to have sex in public with me because of some what’s-his-face guy.”
“not have sex sex,” you correct, delight filling your chest when he shivers - whether it’s from your touch of the image your words are painting in his head, you’re not sure, “but make out with me like you’re a kiss away from fucking me senseless?”
“i thought that’s a given?”
not needing to be told twice, you find yourself being devoured like a little rabbit in the arms of the beast. the background around you blurs together as you inhale jungkook’s scent, feel the warmth seep from his body to yours. your hand snakes down in between your bodies with one goal in mind: the gentle protrusion brushing against your own crotch.
“fuck a show,” jungkook hisses harshly against your mouth, breathing becoming labored as you caress him over the layer of his jeans, “where’s the closest room we can get to?”
you nod in agreement, hopping off the counter and tugging on your top to keep your nipples from being exposed after jungkook’s hand fall away from your breast at your retreat.
“they might have empty ones upstairs.” you tug on jungkook’s hand, making your way to the staircase and trying not to step over drunken bodies making out on the ground or simply passed out.
it’s when you get one foot on the stairs, that a clamoring thud erupts from somewhere on the dance floor - the air that was once blaring now pin drop silent. jungkook’s cheek presses against your back as he wraps his arm around your torso, a peck landing on your shoulder, not telling you to move but not really interested at the reason you paused to peer through the gaps of bodies that seemed to be looking at something just around the corner.
“shut the fuck up, dickhead!” a voice thunders against the walls after another thud that sounded like heavy equipment falling against the ground - and possibly breaking.
“must be those football guys fighting over a girl.” jungkook comments, uninterested.
on any other occasion, you would have agreed and gone on your merry way but it’s the unsettlingly familiar baritone that made you freeze in your spot in the first place. it’s with a rattling realization and the sight of jisoo among the throng of people, calling out “taehyung, leave it!” that gets you to trudge back to the floor, vaguely aware of jungkook trailing from behind with a “what’s wrong?”
eyes bore into your skull as you finally push through the throng of people and burst onto the scene. jisoo has her arms around taehyung’s while jimin appear miniature as he stands between the taller man and an unnervingly calm namjoon. the latter wipes a trace of blood from his busted lower lip as chills run down your spine when the man’s eyes falls on you, lips curving into a vain smile.
“why don’t you ask her yourself?” his voice drums against the walls - loud and clear to those who are watching which is basically everyone here.
“come on, ___, everyone wants to know if you begged me to be your first and how we fucked in the back room of the student lounge.”
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friendofcarlotta · 3 years
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True Romance, Chosen Family: The Case for a Happy Dean/Cas Ending (Part 1)
If you’re following me, you might know that I’ve been writing codas for all the recent episodes. I will not be writing one for 15x18 because, for once, I don’t feel like I need to create my own fix. Instead, I’m incredibly excited to just wait and see what the writers’ fix is going to look like.
Yes, Cas was taken by the Empty, and yes, Dean didn’t get to respond to Cas’ confession, but I have hope and faith that the writers are not going to let us down. 
Here’s why. (For now, this only goes up to 15x08 because, clearly, I have a LOT of thoughts and need to split them up into two separate posts.)
Season 14 and 15x01-15x03
As Season 15 begins, Cas is at an absolute low point. He’d finally been gaining confidence that he’d found his place, his family, and then tragedy strikes in the form of Mary’s death. Cas states explicitly in 14x18 that he didn’t speak up regarding his concerns about Jack because “we were a family, and I didn’t want to lose that.” He tells Dean “I failed you.”
We know now that Cas has been in love with Dean this whole time, but believed that Dean would never return his feelings. So he wasn’t happy, but he was content and wanted desperately to hang on to any version of a family life Dean would let him have.
Let’s look at Dean’s perspective. In 14x13, Dabb deliberately juxtaposes Dean’s two families: On the one hand, the traditional family that includes Sam, John and Mary. The one that Dean has put on an unrealistic pedestal and felt cheated out of all his life. On the other hand, Dean’s found family with Cas, Jack and Sam. 14x13 tells us that Dean cannot have it both ways, because as soon as John appears, Cas disappears from his life.
Now let’s think back to Dean’s conversation with John.
John: I guess that I had hoped eventually you’d get yourself a normal life, a peaceful life. A family.
Dean (smiles softly): I have a family.
This is Dean making a choice to let go of the past and embrace his found family. Accordingly, John disappears, and the literal second after, Cas returns to the bunker. Cas is the embodiment of the family Dean wants; the one he’s chosen for himself.
But there is still one remnant of his old family: Mary. When Mary dies, Dean is thrown into despair and questions all his choices again. Dean feels guilty: He chose a family that included Jack, and Jack killed Mary. So when Cas offers him an out (”I failed you”), Dean latches on to that explanation with the desperation of a grieving man. He sets about destroying his found family as thoroughly as he possibly can. He tries to kill Jack, and to kill his relationship with Cas (”You’re dead to me”). Sam is exempt from Dean’s grief-fueled extermination campaign because he belongs in both family units.
Then, 14x20 brings us the Chuck revelation. Dean stops short of killing Jack, but he is reeling more than ever. If Chuck has been pulling the strings all along, then have any of Dean’s choices been his own? Did he truly choose his found family with Cas, or was the choice thrust upon him?
So in 15x01, Dean’s campaign of extermination continues and intensifies. Not content with merely keeping his distance from Cas, he tries to push Cas back to the place where it all began for them: Hell. (”Cas will go. You’ve been to Hell before.”)
Hell, for Cas, is the place where he met the man he would grow to love, who would transform his entire being and make him “care about the world.” Now, that man is so far estranged from him that he wants to send Cas back to the place they escaped from, together, all those years ago. 
And still, Cas stays. Again, he doesn’t think that Dean will ever return his feelings, but he still has hope that at least their friendship can be salvaged. So in 15x02, he tells Dean that the bond they share - Cas’ love for Dean, and what he believes are Dean’s purely platonic feelings for him - is something they chose of their own free will, in spite of Chuck’s machinations. (”Dean, you asked, what about all this is real? We are.”) (And isn’t that little bit of dialogue just a giant HINT HINT HINT from the writers to us all in hindsight?)
But Dean is still stuck in his spiral of grief, anger and confusion. In 15x03, we see Cas taking one final stab at making Dean see the truth, at salvaging their friendship. And doesn’t that whole scene hurt so much more in hindsight, now that we know Cas is in love?
Cas: My powers are failing, and I’ve tried to talk to you, but you don’t want to hear it. You don’t care. I’m... dead to you. You still blame me for Mary.
[Dean nods, and Cas turns to go.]
Dean: Where you going?
Cas: Jack’s dead. Chuck’s gone. You and Sam have each other. I think it’s time for me to move on.
Once again, it’s obvious that Cas does not believe Dean sees him as anything other than a friend and brother. Hence, his statement that Dean does not need him because he has Sam. Still, Cas hopes and waits for Dean to ask him to stay, in the friend/brother role he’s thus far occupied. But Dean remains silent, and Cas, defeated, leaves.
Side note: The idea of Cas’ powers failing is one that was something of an ongoing theme in the early episodes, but hasn’t really been mentioned in a while. Logic dictates that there is a reason why this was so important that it’s brought up in three separate episodes (15x03, 15x06, 15x08). It’s one of the reasons why I’m certain that 15x18 is not the end for Cas. Because the idea that he is losing his angelic powers is still dangling out there. And if 15x18 has taught us anything, it’s that Dabb & Co. have been playing a long game with their Cas storyline. Dare I hope that we’re being set up for a human!Cas endgame? Others have pointed out how much the Empty’s tendrils resembled a corrupted version of Cas’ wings, and ample, excellent meta has been written about how Cas’ angelhood and depression (as symbolized by the Empty) have kept him from what he truly wants: happiness, love, a family, DEAN.
15x04-15x05
In these episodes, Chuck takes the wheel and Cas effectively disappears from the narrative. It’s a fact that is explicitly acknowledged, in 15x04 (Becky: No one even mentions Cas.)
15x04 is one of the most interesting episodes of the season because it’s the show waving frantically at us to telegraph a happy ending. Whenever my brain tries to lose hope in the outcome of this season, I go back to this conversation:
Becky: This is... just an ending.
Chuck: Yeah. I don’t know how I’m gonna get there, but I know where I’m going.
Becky: But it’s so... dark. ... It’s awful! It’s horrible. It’s hopeless! You can’t do this to the fans. What you did to Dean? What you did to Sam?
Chuck: There, see? I’m making you feel something. That’s good, right?
Becky: No!
Then we get 15x05, where Chuck raises Lilith from the Empty to retrieve the Equalizer. His plan, as expressly stated by Lilith, involves seducing Dean:
Lilith: I was supposed to get rescued and, in a moment of sweet relief, seduce Dean, blah, blah, blah. Obviously, that’s not happening now.
The point is this: Chuck does not understand his own character’s motivations. To him, Dean is still the ultimate ladies’ man, the one who would do anything for a nice pair of... well, you know. But Dean proves that he isn’t, by refusing to engage sexually with Lilith. Chuck still doesn’t understand Cas’ significance to the narrative, and therefore can’t grasp why his repeated attempts to erase Cas from it keep failing.
15x06
We find Cas off on his own, grieving the loss of his relationship with Dean by going fishing, of all things.
Cas: I had a friend who always praised fishing for its meditative qualities.
We know, from 14x07, that, for Dean, fishing is intimately associated with the idea of a happy family life. In fact, Jack says so in that episode, after he asks Dean to go fishing with him:
Jack: You once told me that you and your father did the exact same thing. It was your happiest memory of him.
By fishing, Cas is trying to keep alive the memory of the family he had and thinks is lost to him forever. But he finds no joy in it, because his family is still broken.
Another interesting thing about 15x06 is Cas’ chosen alias as he works the case: Clarence Worley. On the surface of it, “Clarence” is a Megstiel reference, but the addition of “Worley” throws a whole new light on things. Clarence Worley, of course, is the hero of the movie “True Romance”. Every other time Cas has chosen an alias, he’s chosen the name of a pop singer. Why doesn’t he here? Because the writers are trying to tell us something.
Consider this quote from the movie:
Clarence: You just said you love me. If I say I love you and throw caution to the wind and let the chips fall where they may and you’re lying to me, I’m going to fucking die.
Of course, Clarence Worley doesn’t die. He lives and starts a new life with the woman he loves, and they raise a son together. In a movie called “True Romance”. 
Let’s look at 15x06 from Dean’s perspective. Chuck’s machinations have once again be exposed, and as soon as that happens, Cas reenters Dean’s storyline - with the infamous phone call that has Dean making a clumsy, gruff attempt to bring Cas back into his life (”check your damn messages”). 
Ultimately, Cas makes the decision to return to the bunker on his own terms - not because he has any hope that he can salvage his relationship with Dean, but because he knows that he’s needed in the fight against Chuck. 
And of course, we end Dean’s role in 15x06 with another reiteration of what’s keeping Dean from his family and his happiness:
Dean: I don’t know what’s God and what isn’t, and it’s driving me crazy.
15x07-15x08
In 15x07, Cas returns to the bunker, to find that Dean has gone off on his own. So Cas works with Eileen and Sam on a plan to defeat Chuck.
Dean, meanwhile, finds an old (blue-eyed, dark-haired) friend he thought he’d lost forever. He also finds an attractive woman who is very clearly interested in him, but once again declines the opportunity for an easy hookup, in favor of spending time with the aforementioned blue-eyed, dark-haired friend. Of course, Lee is not Cas, and Dean’s attempt to reconnect with him is doomed to failure. Accordingly, Dean discovers that Lee is not who he seems, and that his attempt to bond with Lee has caused him to miss repeated calls from Cas.
When Dean realizes this, he rushes home. The first person he encounters there is Cas, and we get a scene of the two of them standing on either side of the map table, a physical manifestation of the emotional distance between them. (A manifestation that Dean will later dance across in 15x10, following his reconciliation with Cas. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.)
In 15x08, Cas, Dean and Sam return to Hell - the place we now know marks the origin of Cas’ love for Dean. They encounter Rowena, who we were led to believe was dead after sacrificing her life to save others. (Huh.) Of course, we all know what happens next: Rowena asks Sam to leave so she can give Dean and Cas an impromptu bit of relationship counseling.
Rowena: Boys? Fix it. I don’t have many regrets, but the few I do still haunt me. ... One day, you die, you go to hell, they make you queen, and you can’t make it right. So fix it.
Then we have The Healing (TM). Cas goes out of his way to heal a very minor cut on Dean’s hand, even though it costs him clear effort to do so (again, the failing powers). We are treated to a closeup of their hands, hovering so close to each other, but never touching. Again, a physical manifestation of emotional distance, and one that is only partially overcome in 15x18. In 15x18, it’s Cas who cuts his hand. After Cas confesses his feelings, he believes he’s closing the last of his emotional distance with Dean, and then there is a touch. But it’s a one-sided touch, one Dean doesn’t have an opportunity to return, because Cas pushes him away, creating a physical manifestation of emotional distance once again. The truly reciprocal touch, the final closing of emotional distance, has not occurred. We have not yet heard Dean’s truth.
And then, the big reveal: Dean and Cas are going back to Purgatory, the other dimension that marks a highly significant inflection point in Dean and Cas’ relationship.
One final thought:
Dean, in 15x09: Cas, I need to say something.
Cas: You don’t have to say it. 
Cas, in 15x18: Happiness isn’t in the having. It’s in just being. It’s in just saying it.
(Final, final thought: Thanks to Tia, @duckyboos-blog, @dothwrites and @a-mandala-rose for helping me process the wild, crazy turn the show has taken.)
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randomoranges · 3 years
Text
i’ve had the stupid initial scene in my head for like a week. also thoughts on tattoos and such and significance and the magnitude of things unsaid in the past that get to finally be aired out in the present and such. 
more rambly thoughts hahahaha. 
Ricochet
Winter 2020? Early 2021???? Idk. 
 Edward ghosts his fingers over the petals of the rose before him and lets them dance over the lines that compose the patterns and colours of the flower. He’s always been fascinated by the combination of flowers and leaves that overlap and twine over Étienne’s vine tattoo, ever since he had first seen it, what now feels like ages ago. It’s always been his favourite, for some reason, even before the extra additions. He lets his fingers go on their own quiet exploration, re-appropriating the feel and contrast of colours and shapes, until they come to rest by one of the few flowers that differ from all the others.
 He remembers the first time he had taken notice of it, late one summer night in the early nineties. He had thought it a trick from the light or some clever projection of his mind, and so, he’d never really mentioned anything. With time, he’d check, to make sure that the one different rose was still there and he had tried not to think about what it could mean – what it could represent. The possibilities. Étienne had offered no clarification and he hadn’t asked questions about it. Instead, he had let his fingers trace the contour and the petals, had memorized the different shades of colour of it and had dared to hope.
 Now, he knows better.
 Edward lets his fingers shift direction and land on the latest addition to Étienne’s vine tattoo. It’s a little over a year old and a little brighter than some of the other flowers. He traces over the curves of the petals and he might be imagining it, but he swears he feels his boyfriend’s heart rate pick up ever so beneath his fingers. He smiles softly, before he places a tender kiss to the spot where his fingers had just been – to the flower right over Étienne’s heart and then looks up to find green-hazel eyes quietly observing him.
 He resettles against Étienne and lets out a content sigh, happy to be here with him – despite everything.
 “What would you have done?” He starts to ask as he resumes tracing the different flowers and leaves that twine and twist over Étienne’s torso, “If I – if I didn’t feel the same – about you?” He finally asks, breaking the comfortable silence they’d been resting in. It’s a question he’s been thinking over for a little over a year now and it’s mostly curiosity and a sense of comfort around Étienne that brings him to ask it. He no longer needs to wonder and hope and fear for his relationship with Étienne; he gets to let his guard down and enjoy the hugs and kisses and special attentions without second guessing himself or what it could mean.
 Étienne shifts and slides down so that they can be at level and offers him a quizzical look. Edward shrugs; he’s genuinely intrigued. He obviously knows how he felt then. However, it had taken him a while to acknowledge the fact that he still felt something for Étienne and the whole thing had turned even more complicated with Calvin in the picture. How could he still have feelings for Étienne when he had Calvin? Calvin who kept trying. Calvin who didn’t give up on him. Calvin who was patient and gave him space and kept circling back when he was being obtuse and afraid. How ungrateful was he being to Calvin by still liking Étienne? After so long. After everything they had gone through.
 And then – and then did he really still like Étienne that way? Or did he simply miss having him as a friend? (Had he ever even liked Étienne? Had it been mere infatuation? Or a desire to be like Étienne?) Would he be content with having his best friend back or did he still want more?
 The questions and the anxieties had done a number on him; had kept him tossing and turning and had eaten away at him. He would have loved to share these thoughts with Calvin, but he’d been afraid his boyfriend would have taken it the wrong way – would have called him cruel and would have called him terrible things for potentially being in love with two people – would have asked him to choose.
 He’d kept his mouth shut.
 He was lucky enough as it was.
 He needn’t be greedy.
 There was no sense in rocking the boat when he and Étienne barely even talked anymore. He could keep his wayward thoughts to himself and try to focus on not messing up his relationship with Calvin in the meantime. He had done a poor enough job in the first leg of it anyways. A damn near miracle Calvin hadn’t gotten up and left him there to rot, really.
 So he’d done that. Done his best to put those thoughts away and move on – properly – silently, but every time he heard Étienne’s name mentioned his ears had perked up and he’d tried to find out how his former-friend-former-lover was doing. He’d dropped questions here and there, asking sometimes Élyse, sometimes another of Étienne’s friends how he was doing if he came up in a conversation and he most certainly never did try looking him up on social media.
 Eventually, somehow, they did end up reconnecting. Miraculously. He’s still unsure as to how that happened, but he’s thankful they did. Their tentative new friendship had been welcomed, even if it had oftentimes felt like one-step forward and eight steps back, but – it had been good, nice even. A welcomed surprise.
 Edward had just been glad that he could speak to Étienne again.
 But, reconnecting with him, even in all its tentative steps, had brought forth the feelings he thought he had buried deep inside. They resurfaced, stronger than ever, and even when he’d tried to suppress them, again, they’d only just lingered more, ever so insistent and demanding of his attention.
 He’d felt like a monster. For still wanting Étienne. For feeling like he was betraying Calvin and everything they had been carefully building for the past few years. He – hated himself. For still being in love with Étienne. So he tried harder. To hide it. To bury it and kill it off once and for all.
 It, naturally, hadn’t worked.
 Eventually, he’d admitted to it. He’d told Calvin about all of it, unable to keep it to himself any longer. Everything from the past up until this point, no glossing over, no hidden parts, just the ugly truth of it all and the shame of his heart.
 Edward had braced and prepared himself for all the terrible ways Calvin would most likely react. He wouldn’t blame him for it, really. It was already a miracle that Calvin had come around from his initial reaction to his coming out decades ago and had actually developed feelings for him; Edward didn’t expect any more. Calvin had done his share, it was his problem if he was fucking it up, again. (And what did that say, when everything good he ever had in his life he managed to screw up?)
 However, somehow, miraculously, Calvin had been – really good about it, considering. There hadn’t been any major outbursts, no fights, no breakups and no broken hearts. Edward clearly hadn’t given him his just credit.
 They’d talked it over. Calvin had expressed his own fears and concerns, mostly that Edward would end up leaving him, but Edward had been quick to clarify that this wasn’t the case. He still loved him, but he also – still felt something for Étienne. He just – didn’t want to have to chose. He didn’t want to settle and he didn’t want to give up, but – he’d do his best if – if Calvin asked him to. Calvin deserved that much. It wouldn’t be fair to Calvin to jeopardize everything they had for an old flame.
 Luckily, Calvin had been kind to him. A little uncertain, a little afraid, but kind.
 Edward had – hesitated, in his next step. Hadn’t wanted to rush in. Had carefully waited and observed, for a while, unsure how to really proceed anyways. There were still many unknown variables, notably,  had Étienne ever felt anything for him, and if so, had he managed to move on or not and if not – was he still – did he still want to – try?
 But that’s in the past now. He gets to enjoy his relationship; no questions asked and finally be without needing to worry. He’s glad and relieved it worked out. He’s content – happy, really. It finally feels like he’s got it together – that all the important pieces have been gathered.
 “Not gotten a marigold tattooed on me, for starters,” Étienne answers and laughs. Edward rolls his eyes, but it’s fond, even if a little exasperated. Étienne grins at him before he reaches over for his hand and places it back on his chest. It’s warm, even if Étienne always complains about being cold, and he feels the constant beat of his heart. It’s reassuring.
 “Be serious,” He chides and Étienne sighs and twines their legs together, growing silent for a moment as he thinks it over.
 “Well, I suppose I would have made a better effort to move on,” He shrugs, figuring it’s a simple enough answer, but – there’s more. If he’s being honest with himself, there is more. Edward waits patiently and keeps tracing over the flowers on Étienne’s tattoo, again. An old habit he’d been fond of, one he’s thankful he can rejoice in again.  
 “I mean – I never even thought you’d still like me that way, considering you were with Calvin. And – I didn’t care – well, not really. You could’ve had a full harem of men at your disposal. I just – wanted to be your friend again. I wanted to hang out with you and go out on the town without it being loaded. I didn’t want to second guess whether you’d flinch away from a hug or if you’d read too much into swinging my arm around your shoulders and such. I missed being friends with you. Wanted to pick up the phone and gab away for hours and hours about the stupid crap we’d done, seen, heard and such. Watch a movie or a game and unwind together. Have fun, go out, have you over and not have you think it meant anything more than just being your friend. I wanted that more than the sex and the relationship.” He sighs as he tries to form the right words to shed light on his own feelings. It’s still not his forte – talking about his feelings, but for Edward’s sake he tries. “So, yeah, woulda been okay with it, I guess. I mean – there would’ve been disappointment, but – that would’ve been on me. We fell out ages ago, you moved on, time I did the same, and such.” He shrugs and looks away from kind hazel eyes. He feels inadequate as he tries to give Edward a coherent answer, but he finds solace in knowing that it’s at least the truth.
 Edward chuckles and pokes his boyfriend’s chest. He thinks it’s endearing how Étienne’s cheeks have coloured dark red and how his blush trails down his neck and to his chest. He presses a kiss to it for good measure and then another.  
 “M’glad it worked out though – that you still like me as well and all. Didn’t completely toss me out of your life. That we’re trying to make it work and that we can still also be friends.” He admits in a quick rush of air, blush growing even more.
 Edward gathers him in his arms and holds him close, before he places another kiss, this time to his cheek. Étienne wraps himself around him and hides his face away in the crook of Edward’s neck, where it’s nice and warm and safe,  and this, at least, is easy and less – complicated.
 “For what it’s worth, I’m also really glad and – relieved.”
 Étienne chances a glance back to Edward’s face and, maybe, Edward looks a little as to how he feels. Still surprised by this outcome, thankful obviously, and maybe just a little overwhelmed and in awe that this is real – that they get to have this and try not to mess it up. He resettles, the ricocheting thrum of his heart beating underneath Edward’s fingers, but he doesn’t mind. “’Love you,” Étienne murmurs and Edward tightens his hold on him for a second. He has this now. He gets to have this, somehow, and he swears he’ll do his best – that they’ll do their best not to mess it up.
 FIN
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psalloacappella · 4 years
Text
Sirens - Ch 4
Title: Sirens Pairing: SasuSaku obv Chapter:  IV / Ao3 | FF Additional Details: AU verse; Sakura isn’t here to be saved, but she also has a lot of secrets; Sasuke has daddy issues; always hot mess express
.
.
“I assumed you would be picking me up from a station one day,” he says. Hates himself for the heat in his face that seems to crop up only in conversation with her.
With a wry smile, she responds, “So we’re both very lucky little delinquents.”
.
.
On the 28th day after they’ve met, she calls him from a police station.
On an unassuming Friday evening in which the bar is quite busy and all three of them are running ragged — well, Shikamaru is in the back office plodding through routine tasks even though Sasuke bestows his signature, smoldering, get your smoking lazy ass in the front look, pointed and serious, which does nothing to ward off the women lingering and coiling like clingy plant tendrils, hoping for a second of his time. By mere virtue of his pretty face, he’s left to the night wolves.
Naruto, sidetracked and distracted from bartending by a loquacious brunette with hair in two buns and blunt-cut bangs, hears it first.
Completing her drink full of gin as sharp as the flashy knives she’s rolled in with, he places an orange peel in it with a flourish and gives her a nervous, dangling half-smile. Cute, but her hobby is definitely one for someone more adventurous and decidedly not for him. Still, her grin suggests a gentler side and as he slides the cocktail to her, he reflects perhaps it’s something he can overlook.
“Thanks,” she says. “And keep it open; my friends and I just arrived.”
“No problem,” he responds, preparing to move on to the next.
“Ah, one thing . . .” Her eyes, a color in between hazy shades of silver and hazel, beckon him closer. Naruto inclines his head and leans in to hear her against the noise.
“I have to ask, who is he?”
Nods her chin at Sasuke, who hands off the next drink with the most minute, fleeting smile he can bestow, more of a movement of the head than any actual friendliness. There’s always an easy grace about him and frankly, paired with his looks, it’s infuriating to Naruto how a person can be given such tall, dark, and handsome sexuality and miserably fail to wield it.
A quiet chuckle, and he whispers, “A bastard, honestly.”
Interpreting it as a joke, she giggles.
“Seriously, he’s just complicated. You’re welcome to try, though.”
Lifting the cocktail and pinning a napkin to the perspiring glass with her fingernails, she winks and disappears into the crowd.
Naruto then hears what he thought he had before but shook off as his imagination — the ringing of a phone sounding not like the stock default tone of a mobile but the staid ring of importance, belonging to a lawyer’s desk or doctor’s office. Not the one in his pocket, but the one on the wall that hardly ever makes a sound and overall, hasn’t been used in any useful capacity since a month ago.
It rings longer than it should; he wonders if they have voicemail. That’s definitely a Sasuke question. He’s drawn to the unusual event and though he’s unable to put a finger on it, there’s an air of happenstance and fate. Put that way, it sounds like he’s crazy or clairvoyant.
Frowning, he puts up a finger to the next patron crowding the bar and says, “Be right with ya.”
Sasuke of course hears it too, though he’s currently drowning in a deluge of women who likely already have drinks in their hands but are eager to talk to him longer than necessary. If the bland expressions of disinterest, slivers between each interaction, aren’t enough indication, perhaps the kind but firm manner in which he ignores the flirting and lingering touches as they connect to exchange liquor and money is; the inquiries glossed with a breezy veneer but trying to gain a foothold on what he considers inappropriate topics and details. Glaring at Naruto over his shoulder, who’s treating this unanticipated phone call with more solemnity than he’s ever offered anything else in his life, he savagely wishes he had picked it up instead if only to get away.
They meet one another’s eyes. He’s known him long enough that it betrays its importance.
Extricating himself from a woman with blue hair and a sparkling silver chin labret, he leans in close and waits for details. Naruto covers the receiver and says, “It’s her. Your girlfriend.”
“She’s not my—”
“Maybe go to the office. Sounds important.”
A sensation in his gut, dripping dread. “Transfer it,” he says impatiently.
“Ah, I don’t think I— oh!” Naruto puts the phone back to his ear, listening to Sakura speak. Realizing it’s upside-down, he fumbles it. Nodding, he says, “Sure, he’s here. Jus’ let me . . .”
Jabbing a button on it, triumphant, he’s energetic and proud like a puppy as he slaps the phone back onto the wall with gusto. Grins.
A beat. Another.
“You fucking idiot,” he snaps, yanking it back off the wall. Pointing at the correct button, Sasuke’s eyes dance with what looks like the casual threat of homicide. Slams it back so hard his friend flinches. “If you hang up on her again—”
The ring echoes in stark contrast to his fury, and he snatches it up as Naruto opens his mouth. “Yes?”
“Not how your mom taught you to answer a phone,” Naruto whispers, shaking his head. Pivoting to show him an irritated shoulder, it’s the closest equivalent to a fuck off that Sasuke can give in full view of the bar. He strains to hear her over the din.
And then, there she is sounding so close. Echoes of the way her whispers curl and settle in his ear when she slips out of his bed, reverberating in the silent days that follow when she disappears on a schedule all her own, known only to one. Twenty-eight days can caricature a lifetime, a narrative he can clearly see in his mind’s eye, even if she’s weaving in and out of his life and their reality for most of it. It doesn’t bother him so much as long as she returns.
The strain of her lovely voice is noticeable, tensed twine. The way people speak in crowded rooms on terse topics and desperately carve a bubble of personal space for private, intimate words.
“I’m always speaking to you in unconventional ways. Always odd and in the dead of night.” Humor painted over the tightness of her vocal cords and wavering at the end, the tremolo of an instrument approaching repose.
“Are you all right?” Sasuke brings the receiver closer. No sounds from others on her end, just a gloomy quiet and possibly shuffling paper.
“Sure,” she says, laughing a little. A nervous skittering. “I always end up in police stations on my off nights.”
The beat that follows skips, stalls, as if there’s a space ballooning between each begging to be filled.
“Which one? I’m coming.”
“Sasuke—”
“Are you hurt?” The way he asks this is a gentleness defying his usual prickliness, so soft. Enough that Naruto glances at him over his shoulder as he manages the throng, piqued by the whispers.
“No! No, not really. I’m not sure what’s going on. They brought me here and I was sure I’d be arrested—”
“Sakura—”
“—but I don’t think so. No handcuffs, no fingerprinting. But this officer’s definitely not sure what to do with me.”
“Don’t talk to them. Just wait.”
Before she can protest, he hangs up abruptly. To Naruto: “I have to go. She needs help.”
“Is she okay?” Naruto sends another customer off, trying to hide his worried eyes. A mark of the short catalysts required for the fascinating chemistry of bonding, of friendship. She becomes a fixture for two wandering men with the inevitably and grace of astronomic orbits crossing paths.
“Police station,” he mutters.
Sasuke heads for the back office, not seeing Naruto’s eyes wilt even more as he goes.
Whipping open the door, he ignores the fact that Shikamaru was absolutely asleep a moment before all over a scattering of ledgers and rouses him with his classic abrasion. “Get out front. I need to handle something.” To drive home the point, pulls his jacket off the hook and swings it on quickly.
“Ah, right,” Shikamaru rasps, rubbing the indented depressions and ink off his face. “Emergency?”
“Sort of,” Sasuke mumbles. Reaches into his jacket pocket and casts about, in his mind, on who he can ask to dig into a situation that hasn’t yet yielded an arrest.
He always knows someone, though. The curse of the name.
“It’s that girl, isn’t it?”
Sasuke surveys him from the threshold, already aiming to leave. He wonders what he must look like when he thinks of her, when she’s in a room and has her beautiful hands on him, because the expression Shikamaru’s giving him is inscrutable and poignant all in one. She has the uncanny ability to splay his heart as a cadaver, pinned and primed for inspection. And it always feels that everyone understands something beyond him.
“Go,” Shikamaru says. “We’re here too, if you need us.”
He nods in response, and doesn’t bother with the zipper as he jogs down the hall to swing open the back door and depart into the night.
.
.
.
A well-placed phone call later, he’s at the police station front desk in an unfamiliar trendy neighborhood, asking after a girl with pink hair whose last name he doesn’t have.
“Pink, you said?” An austere expression creeps into the desk manager’s brows, sinks into her jowls; sharpness in her eyes. Clearly regarding him, and this, as ludicrous.
“Probably fake,” he volunteers. “She was brought in a couple hours ago.”
“‘Probably fake,’” the woman echoes, setting down her pen.
Anxiety flits about in his chest, a moth stuck in a dangerous, fated tryst with lamplight.
A door opens to the right of the front desk and an officer leans over the threshold. Serious and composed in contrast, badges gleaming. “Uchiha Sasuke?”
“Yes.” It’s a reflex, something about the way he speaks reminding him of another imposing, authoritarian presence that still lingers at the edge of his nightmares. Never quite sure if he’s relieved or regretful that he’s gone. Growing up, everything was suffused with it, the power and the name.
“She’s back here. Oh, he’s with me, no need for that,” he says to the woman. Waves a hand, blithe, sweeping away the very notion of procedure.
Sasuke follows him down a hallway expecting to be taken to holding cells, and the creeping familiar feeling settles into his shoulders. Instead, the officer sighs, yawns. They stop outside of a closed office door.
“Listen, this Sakura, your girlfriend? She’s fine. I’m apt to believe what happened, but the scene got — well, it was disorderly, let’s say that. We talked a little and the little lady she was defending is with her, too. Once she mentioned your name, well,” and here he puts what’s intended as a fatherly hand on Sasuke’s shoulder, who glances at it surreptitiously, “I knew and respected your father. Head of your family, very helpful to us over the years.”
Unable to express the fleeting, frenzied analysis that takes place as he’s speaking, the myriad implications, defending someone, little lady, girlfriend, my father, helpful, and the swift undercurrent of distaste at the remembrance of his family name, how his father was a pillar rather than any sort of parent or individual, and how reputation always came first:  Sasuke nods a few times and swallows everything he wants to say, instead responding, “I . . . appreciate this.”
Nodding once, satisfied presumably at staying in a dead man’s good graces by way of assisting his son, he smiles broadly. Such a contrast to the way his father ever did, who perpetually seemed sour. Still, many men can commandeer space whether with a jovial smile or the most straightforward intimidation.
They both startle as the door clicks open:  Sakura in the left chair and a woman with long, luscious dark hair on the right. They exist as another illustration of contrasts — hair colors on opposite sides of spectrums saturating the drab, taupe-beige space, one’s eyes green and sharp and the other’s, soft and mottled, cream.
There’s a spark of recognition when he glances at the unknown girl, a feminine personage and assumed offspring of a family he’s met before, perhaps as a child. Now though, nothing resonates. Instead he watches Sakura, who tucks a strand of pink hair behind her ear and meets his eyes, lips tugging into a smile despite the circumstances.
Does she know she could get away with anything with a face like that? Sasuke’s heart skips uncomfortably, the sensation of missing a step in some stairs.
When she sits up from the chair and sways, it’s the other woman who catches her first. By the forearm, and with a butterfly-delicate touch.
“Hah, I forgot,” Sakura mutters, more to herself than them. With a weak grin at her companion, she explains, “My ankle.”
“What happened to you?” Sasuke asks. Frowning, he passes the pad of his thumb across her cheek to sweep away what he assumes is cosmetic. It smears and fades but stubbornly stays.
And he knows that color more than he’s ever wanted to.
Sakura winces. “You should see the other guy.”
“I can explain,” the officer offers. Taking a seat behind his desk with another dismal yawn, Sasuke stands behind Sakura’s chair. Heat dashes across the back of his neck in irritation, confusion; she uses his arm as leverage to lower herself into the chair, intensifying the cloying atmosphere. The other woman keeps her head down, bowed. A familiar gesture.
“The ladies here were at a popular lounge downtown, separately. From their statements, they arrived at different times and did not know one another before tonight.” Pausing, his eyes sweep between the two, offering space for contradiction or comment. He continues. “Neither were unreasonably intoxicated. Over the course of the night, miss Hyuuga here,” and that name sparks something in Sasuke’s mind, neurons seeking details, “was dealing with the unwanted attentions of an intoxicated young man. At some point, miss . . . oh, the ink is smudged. Sakura, here, approached her,” here he flips an upturned palm to indicate her —
“Hinata,” she says quietly, inclining her head to Sasuke.
“— concerned for her well-being around this man. He apparently had friends as well, and the situation escalated to alleged harassment. Heated words were exchanged, bystanders becoming involved, and unfortunately it progressed to this man grabbing miss Hyuuga, and, well—”
“He received a face full of gimlet,” Sakura interrupts, folding her arms. “And then my fist.”
“You punched him?” Sharp, inquiring, but bewildered.
“No, with a palm to the nose. I didn’t want a broken hand.”
Sasuke’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out. The officer winces and glances at Sasuke, under the assumption perhaps that he’s already aware of her tart retorts and lives lovingly with them.
There’s a pause, and Hinata yearns to fill the gap. “If she hadn’t been there to intervene, I don’t know how it would have gone. I truly, really appreciate what she did, even if it was, ah, unorthodox?” She smiles at Sakura, then the officer, and finally Sasuke. “Her form is quite good,” she adds, blushing furiously.
“Look, I don’t think we’re in the business of charging anyone tonight.” The officer has both palms up now in a show of calm.
“I asked you before, I’m not sure why you’re just letting me go,” Sakura says, sounding accusing. Folds her arms across her chest. “I understand why I’m here. I don’t know if that’s right, for nothing to be written up.”
“There’s much to be said for defense.” The tiniest air of condescending patience, a parent refusing to elaborate for a child. Redirecting his attention, he says to Hinata, “Your father will be here soon.”
The way Hinata bows her head again, bent as grass in the wind as if ready to bear difficulty, resonates with Sasuke deeply. A father whose existence was imposing and a relationship fraught with the inability to measure up.
Sakura pulls her phone out of her shimmering shirt with two fingers, plucking it from the magical ether with a certain polite grace in front of the men, and hands it to the woman next to her. Blushing, Hinata fumbles with the latch on a small clutch in her haste to exchange numbers.
Upon finishing, Sakura asks if there’s anything for her to sign.
“No no,” he says, again with that wave. A brushing away of rules and regulations by the mere implication of his authority. “Let your boyfriend take you home, rest that ankle.”
Pink eyebrows could brush the ceiling with how high they rise; Hinata steals a glance but doesn’t make a sound. As if relenting to the chain of events, the circumstances weaving far from the controlled loom of her own hands, Sakura’s shoulders sag and accepting Sasuke’s arm plays out as the next movement in a piece of music, an obvious outcome.
They stand apart on the sidewalk:  Him in all black from the work he hastily left, her in a shimmering shirt, barefoot, sandals in her hand. The bruised knot on her ankle matches the navy of her skirt. For a few moments, they don’t speak.
She doesn’t cry, doesn’t unravel, simply stands on the chilled sidewalk and idly swings her fingers with the sandal straps woven in them in time to an unheard rhythm. Noticing her shivering, his coat becomes hers once more, draped over her shoulders and covering the spatters of red and an abundance of glitter inherited from the lounge that will take days to erase, months to lose in the fibers of his carpet.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she says softly. “Got me off the hook.”
“I didn’t.”
A noise of disbelief, settling in the throat. Constrained.
“He said he knew and respected my father. That happens often.”
Musing on this, she turns and raises her eyes to his. “It must be interesting, to have people grant that to you wherever you go.”
She’s quite short without her shoes. Wilting and exhausted, withdrawing in a way that could leave her as mere wisps as clouds on a cold night.. Even in this tension and the aftermath of another surreal chapter in a chaotic narrative, the urge to sweep glitter off her cheeks and lift her, carrying her off to another planet, is strong and vivid.
“I assumed you would be picking me up from a station one day,” he says. Hates himself for the heat in his face that seems to crop up only in conversation with her.
With a wry smile, she responds, “So we’re both very lucky little delinquents.”
But her face falls, humor dissipating. When she falls against him, only then do her fears take shape between them. “This is why I leave.” Arms around him and fingers in the fabric of his shirt to stay upright. “Because strange things always happen and it always feels like I can’t stop any of it. Like fate.”
Taking on her weight, his fingers find strands of her hair dancing aloft from the wind; they slip through like silk. When he speaks, it’s a quiet murmur. “Sounds like that girl needed your help.”
“Both of them made it sound much more noble than it was.”
Untangling from him, she passes the back of her hand over her eyes, green and glimmering even in the wan, washed out glow of streetlights. Continues, letting weight off her bruised ankle. “The truth is, I was dancing and tipsy and full of false bravado, and spoiling for a fight. He just happened to trip into my orbit, stupidly bothering someone in front of me. The perfect storm of circumstances.”
Following the movements of her lips, an ache radiating in his chest; how can she tell him not to fall in love with her?
“Isn’t that everything?”
His words seem to take the wind out of her sails. Breath stolen, strength gone. She concedes his point with a small smile and nothing more.
Wincing as she readjusts her weight, he’s about to tell her he’ll find a car when she steps forward to the curb, albeit wobbly, and firmly thrusts an arm out, reaching into the blank night. Leaving him always wondering on her earthly origins as she summons one from the dead street with the enchantment of nothing other than her will.
They fall in against the seats, drunk on nothing but novelty.
As she pulls him close by his lapels and dips her tongue into his mouth
— skin humming and warm, as if she’s still moving and undulating underneath hot lounge lights; music in her bones, the echoes of beats hours before; a tang of tartness and botanics, the tastes on her lips that she shares with his; the sharp inhale that tumbles out when she pulls away and nips his bottom lip —
he’s apt to wonder which cabs they haven’t kissed in yet.
.
.
.
Damp locks fanned beneath her head, pink waves splayed wide as if dropped from above with the luck to land and lie tenderly in a field, cradled by earth. But it’s just her on the couch, chin crushed to her chest and face partially obscured, half of it pressed into the cushion as if burrowing for sleep.
“So I know I’ve asked you for enough already.”
It’s a tentative beginning, leaving a question unasked. Sasuke moves his thumb in light and repetitive movements against her ankle, skimming the fabric of the wrapping. She opens one jade eye, brilliant even in the twilight. He makes some noise of assent, and she continues.
“I have this work event,” she says. “It’s stupid, really, but I think it’s somewhat of a formal thing. I tried to get out of it, I did, but one evening the owner of the company — the actual company, not the manager of our subsidiary media branch or whatever — was around listening to my show and he spoke to me afterward.” She frowns, the expression of a sour conversation in her mind. “Anyway, he strongly implied it was an event that you wear something nice, and bring someone with. All above my usual social standing.
She pauses to blow a strand of hair from her face, then looks askance, eyes concentrating hard on the cushion.
“I need someone who’s good at these things. Navigating events like this, all those important people with wealth and to know what they’re actually saying, not just what comes out of their mouths.”
Her meaning is plain: Who better than you?
Not speaking just yet, he instead places a hand on her thigh; hours later her skin still hums, pliant and warm and dashed with glitter missed from her wash.
She shifts beneath his touch, nudging his fingers in an unconscious request. Staring at him fully with open eyes which survey each atom of his face in incisive and keen patterns, memorizing. The sensation, again, of the precipice and the twinge in his stomach and swift wind in his ears, obscuring hearing, drowning out any rational thought. Testing the notion, his hand skims the hem of her skirt; the tug of her lips which stifles a sharp inhale isn’t enough to go on, but the way her eyes brighten as he maneuvers her body easily, considerately, and he’s feeling like the desired target at the barrel end of a poised rifle —
she, eager and him, obsessed.
She trembles like aftershocks — hips caged in by his arms and his handsome chin so close and the fleeting thought of yanking him by his beautiful dark hair and making a mess of that gorgeous face is only to be postponed for another thirty seconds, maybe.
“So,” she exhales, “Will you be my date?”
He responds simply, “Yes.”
An amused smile on her face, eyes alight. “Sometimes, you’re a man of few words.”
Shifting again, her hips sinking into a softer dip in the cushion with a little satisfied sigh. Prompting him to continue the charged venture between her thighs, where his fingers from before are replaced by his lips and the catch of air in her throat is enough to rouse him. Vulnerable things, stupid things, rise to his lips and he swallows them whole, and she senses them; he’s defenseless enough to cough them into her waiting, shaking hands. Instead he whispers against the hot skin of her thigh:
“Do you trust me?”
Sakura reflects it’s a trite question to ask, much less to answer, with him between her legs. Fingers plucking at the edge of her skirt, she says, “Yes.”
And the rest is a whisper lost in her gasp, because despite her caution she’s a failure at any rational thought like this, so dizzy and losing the concept of what’s real and what’s bliss, and it’s possible it was never voiced at all.
But only just.
.
.
.
Bringing him to life with her soft hands on each side of his face and the fruity scent of her shampoo, she whispers, “I’m starving.”
On the floor, both sprawled out on his luxuriant living room rug, verdant like lush jungle and comfortable enough to serve as the night’s chaise. Neither’s slept for much time, the sun’s aurora crowning the horizon with a prophetic red crescent. Again, waking up next to her has the unmooring sensation of devastation and they’re scattered as debris.
They pull the previous night together in languid movements:  Refolding blankets, resetting pillows. Quick face rinses. She limps around on her own despite his quiet protests, intent on breakfast — food this time.
“I’m okay,” she laughs, running her hands over counters and underneath couch cushions. Likely her phone.
Sasuke finds it facedown on the floor, and flips it over. Immediately it lights up and reveals messages upon messages, and as another comes in they flash again, regroup as they hit a limit. Blinding in the dark. All of them from the same number, unsaved, tender and worried and beseeching in a way that doesn’t strike him as a lover and his heart rate falls but the way Naruto has messaged him after disappearing without preamble in a seedy bar or out a back alley, intent on a scuffle with someone to make him feel alive. A best friend who’s rescued another one from numerous poor decisions and choices when they’re feeling low like a layer beneath dirt.
The sound of her nails clicking against the case and scraping his skin startles him as it’s snatched from his hands; it’s a rough motion, jarring. Eyes jejune and dismayed. Emotional whiplash from the previous second as she swallows hard and clutches it to her chest and a sense of an animal cornered.
“Don’t,” she hisses.
“Sakura—”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Are you all right?”
Sliding it into her pocket, she pivots away; he takes her forearm and she shakes him off with the same ferocity with which she usually pulls him close. “Fine.”
“Would you be honest if you weren’t?”
Lips twitching, a response he can see her holding in. Instead, she swings her purse onto her shoulder in a wide arc that keeps him at arm’s length and makes an attempt to limp out the door with her chin high. She’s moving too fast on that sprain and he knows that she knows, pre-med and all, (and from the way she’s discussed it, close to finishing.)
He heads out the front door after her, snatching up his jacket and keys as he goes.
Frustration mounts as she punches the door close button with a loud smack so he has to take the next one. Head spinning at the shift in it all and the horrible weariness that surfaced in her eyes; and everyone has something like that, the trigger to the shutdown and a signal to bar the doors. Taps his foot impatiently at the elevator ride that seems to last for years.
Lobby, out the doors. She’s crossing the street against the lights, and he calls after her.
“Sakura!”
“Leave me alone!”
Bewildered, he plunges forward into the crosswalk—
The screech and hiss and smell of overworked brake pads; at the loud thumping sound Sakura pivots with a small scream mingling with cursing and raised voices—
Sasuke waves the driver’s screaming and his near-fatal experience away with the same annoyance of flicking away an insect, and it seems to bring him to an aggressive and lethal sort of calm. Something in his shoulders and jaw that lifts him, comprises control. And now she’s loath to move, feeling rooted to the spot by his glimmering dark eyes and the aberrant brush with catastrophe that intertwines their souls delicate as lace. Thinking perhaps he can survive even me, knowing as he advances that she could fall into his arms and he would break bones and move the world to remain in her space; he would lay it all at her feet.
Raises a hand to him, reaching as he safely makes it onto the sidewalk—
A thin arm causes her to pull up short, a horizontal barrier swung firmly into her path. Stumbling a little, she follows the long blonde hair with her eyes and drinks in the stance of this woman with her back to her.
Something breaks, a ballpoint hammer to a vulnerable crack in her decrepit heart.
“You better back off!” A voice Sakura knows in every fiber of her being, rattling her bones. Sasuke stops in his tracks at the sight of this blonde woman in his path, and shows his palms in conciliation and confusion.
With a toss of her hair, the woman turns to Sakura and holds her at arm’s length like she’s sprung from the grave, reborn and she’s unable to believe it. Fingering her long hair and her eyes so blue, ocean and skies, beg for recognition. “It’s me. It’s Ino!”
Mouth falling open, Ino takes her lack of response as shock and shakes her head in a rapid motion, back and forth. “Shit, Sakura. I’ve been looking — I found you.” Laughs in a light trailing way, stunned. Voice revealing a lightheadedness, a lovely giddiness.
Without warning she tackles her in a violent hug, the vehement and frenzied embrace of someone whose whole of her soul was lost and then found. Fingers clutching at hair and fabric and then Sakura obliges, relents and their behavior’s the same, scrabbling and wavering voices.
Sasuke watches as Sakura lets her chin rest, heavy and weary, on Ino’s shoulder. The reunification of two who have traveled on significant roads alongside one another, the mortar and brick of what he recognizes as found family.
Tears cutting salty paths down Sakura’s cheeks as Ino says again,
“I found you.”
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spacemilkies · 4 years
Text
serendipity || captain allen x reader
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for @thedevianthunterrk800 who unknowingly dragged me into the pits of hell dau. now i can’t play or watch footage without focusing in on this man. 
“I’m sorry, ma’am but no press are allowed on the premise without strict permission.”
The accusation nearly stuns you at first, before you realize in fact that you never quite shed your work clothing before venturing out. Not that it did much good now that you were caught red handed, you plucked your badge from you neck and offered a placating smile to the receptionist android.
“Sorry, I’m here on personal business not journalistic ventures.” As if to prove your point, you rose the hand clutching the bag of take out. “Just a wife bringing dinner to her husband.”
The android was quiet, her gaze giving you another look over. No doubt cross referencing your heart rate to your words. Perhaps had your husband not been employed at such a high risk job, a simple face recognition scan could have cleared you. But it seemed not even matrimony came with any real civil benefits. 
The android completed its assessment.
“I see. Please-”
“Hey, what are you doing here so late?”
A visible shudder of relief ripped across your skin as you whipped around. Appearing to be finishing up for the evening, Hank was looked about what you expected him to look first thing in the morning- ready to go home.
It’s easy to offer a smile in disguise of pity. “Figured if he wasn't going to make an effort for dinner, I could at least keep him from starving.”
“Yeah, is that why he’s so cranky? Missing one too many meals?”
Hank’s years of ‘facility’ comradery with your husband managed to bleed into a promising friendship of your own. It was a specific type of working relationship that only your hardened husband could achieve. Frankly most of his more social interactions were bridged by your efforts in some way or fashion. 
“Trying to keep him fed is a full time job.”
“Dealing with him period is a fucking career,” he muttered under his breath. Gratefully, Hank waved off the android. “Wife of the fucking SWAT captain, relax would you.”
“I honestly have no idea where he is but we all know his second wife is his desk.”
The obvious joke resonated differently with you than he likely intended for it to. In truth, your husband, his desk … and yourself had a bit of a polymourous relationship, to put it lightly. Not that you would embarrass David by bringing that up now. 
Maybe over drinks on night. 
Grateful for the unexpected intervention, you took advantage of the reprieve to escape through the security gates while you could. Waving to Hank, you bid him a good night.
“The fourth floor isn’t that big. He can’t hide forever.”
The few officers who did recognize you bid you a mix of greetings and farewells from those eager to return to their own families. As you climbed levels however, the gestures became more strict in the form of salutes and slim smiles that oozed stress. 
Rolling your eyes to the roof of the elevator, you began to pray that it wasn't a premonition of what to expect when you finally discovered your husband. You reminded yourself that you were merely there to deliver a meal, not stir up anything that could be settled at home. 
Your marriage worked this long because you respected those boundaries. The same ones that had been built without your knowledge back in university. 
By the relaxed posture of his assistant it was safe to assume he wasn’t in his office. Rachel confirmed as much with a quick wave.
“Captain Allen is in a meeting, ma’am.”
“Thats fine. Is his office open? Just dropping off dinner.”
She eyed the bag as if it was a saving grace. No doubt a prayer she’d made earlier in the day to try and aleve whatever symptoms were aggravating her boss’ nerves. 
If only it was so easy.
“I can get that for you.”
The panel in front of the door switches from red and blue, granting you access. You find yet another reason to send the young woman a nice gift basket. As if all the years of putting up with your husband didn’t earn her a vacation overseas.
Frankly, she might never look back.
“Thank you, Nancy.”
His office is as bleak and bland as the last time you’d entered it. Not even the wealth of his awards managing to permeate the walls. A few of the important credentials made the cut out of sheer necessity. You’d managed to break up the rest of the wall with two scenery photos. 
And that was it.
For someone who practically made his office his home, the lack of comfortably baffled you.
Placing the bags on the corner of his desk, you made yourself comfortable in his chair. Your job title aloe made snooping both enticing and forbidden. A thin lace of trust had been bestowed upon you given your connection to one of the largest media networks in the city. While your husband’s authority gave you more liberties than most it didn’t mean it couldnt be ripped away.
So against your journalist instinct, you kept your hands to yourself while you twiddled with a simple app on your phone. Fortunately, your husband didn’t keep you waiting long before you heard Nancy sharp cry of warning.
“Oh! Wait sir, your-”
You don’t know who is more surprised when you husband enters his office unaware. His shoulders stiffen briefly before he recognizes your silhouette by his desk, Nancy’s warning long forgotten. He looked like he was ready to chew out his next victim of the day and you could only snort in amusement. 
“Really, David.”
He’s wearing your favorite hoody of his- one you know come with a plethora of replacements but not a single is ever given to you despite your insistence. You’ve taken to wearing them briefly after laundry loads, while the house is to yourself. By the time he makes it home, its nestled comfortably in his drawer as if it was never touched. 
A secret compromise.
The door slides shut behind him as he approaches the desk. Affections pleasantly not forgotten as he leans down to peck at your cheek,“Its late, you didn't have to come by.”
“Well, I was hungry too. Figured you wouldn't want your food to get cold. Reheating meat will sometimes make it tough.”
David took the opportunity to peek into the paper bags, a hint of a smile triggering wider one for you when he recognized one of his favorites. You watched quietly as he unpacked the food, not missing how he arranged things carefully to keeps your safely confined while setting aside his own. 
It was an easier dismissal when you were expecting it. 
The hard edge of your neglected badge bit into your skin as you adjusted yourself against the desk, “Trying to get rid of me so soon, captain. I didn’t even get to opportunity to ask my questions yet.”
Unraveling the warmth of a freshly baked roll, your husband gave you an unamused grimace before taking a bite from the buttery loaf. 
“The SWAT team is not currently accepting any questions nor has any scheduled plans to council the press for ongoing operations.”
Your smile is as dangerous as your job implies, “So you guys are working on something top secret.”
“Would be home if it wasn’t.”
That was a lie and you both knew it. David would always find something to keep him occupied in his career. It had built him up and functioned as his stability. You were mere crutches on the sidelines waiting until you were needed.
As simple as it would be to challenge the claim, you thought better of it. Instead you continued to eat up time, relaxed comfortably in his chair while your husband was distracted with his meal. It seemed that his hunger had gotten to a point where he was reluctant to entertain anything that isn't satisfying his stomach. 
“Strip was sold out, so I hope skirt is okay?” 
Your husband wasn’t huge on grilling like some of the neighbors in your area but he did appreciate a good steak. Sometimes if you were lucky, he would even surprise you with a nice dinner in the kitchen on the rare occasions he actual beat you home or the scarcer days off. 
Using his teeth, David fought the crackle of the plastic wrapped utensil set,” Smells good, baby. Thank you.”
His obvious appreciation warmed you enough to coax a bit of boldness out of you. Walking your fingertips closer to the bag, you tugged it closer. “The renovators called back. They can fit us in next weekend to resurface the shower.”
Your house wasn’t old but there had been some changes you’d promised yourself when you’d first moved it. Earlier in your marriage, you had hoped to make a couples project out of it. But as the years passed, you began to understand that if you didn't  get someone else on the job it wasn't going to get done. 
Carefully pulling your own box free, you kept your voice even as your poked through your meal. “I’m having my mom come meet them that Thursday so they can do a final walkthrough for a quote. I’ll be home for the other days.”
“You’re not worried she won't change your plans?”
Twirling your pasta around your fork, you gave his question a thoughtful pause. It had crossed your mind. Your home wasn’t the first thing she had tried to intervene in. But you had made your own wishes noted in the initial meeting. Having your mother there was just supervision at this point.
“Nah, I'll be there for all the real work. I really just need her to keep Kaius calm.”
Retired from service but certainly not an impression on his age, the eight year old shepard still took his training seriously at home. It made it difficult to let anyone into the house without one of you there to assure him it was okay. The task was still difficult for you without David’s overwhelming presence to settle the canine. 
Resting his hip against the corner of the desk, your husband became visibly more relaxed into the conversation as he balanced the bottom of his togo box on his hand. “I don’t mind if he comes to work. He should be fine in my office for a day.”
You shrugged,”It's all worked out.”
At most, you were expecting one human to supervise a few androids. As impersonal as it made the job, it certainly didnt put a damper on efficiency. You expected nothing less than the projected project. 
He surprised you by leaning in then to press a quick kiss to your lips, a sneaky swipe of tongue catching the splash of sauce previously unknown to you. When you look up, he was watching you with that analytical look.
“I know what you’re doing.”
Caught, you could only smile sheepishly as you pointed the fork in his direction. “This is nice, don’t ruin it.”
Humming thoughtfully, your husband eventually returned to his own meal. 
David finished well before fullness crept in for you, his own haste favoring time over taste. But he was getting his nutrition so you found it hard to complain. 
A few tedious comments came to mind but none of them felt strong enough to tether him to a conversation. Accepting the time you got gratefully, you began putting away the leftovers to take home. 
“I’m off tomorrow so you don’t need to tip toe. I’ll leave the light on above the stove.”
Sometimes you found it funny how much your friends raves about the life you must have being married to a SWAT captain. Overwhelmed by their own fantasies of rugged encounters and frantic passion. 
It was true on occasion. There were times  that the stress of the job encouraged his hands to be a little more rough. Or time constraints found you bent over something convenient with your panties jerked to the side. 
As thrilling as it was, the novelty wore off quicker than it did in literature. 
There wasn’t a day you weren’t thankful of how well your husband aged, you just wanted more opportunities to appreciate it. 
You rise from your seat, expecting a final kiss of gratitude before you went on your way. 
You hasn’t realized your eyes had slid closed until they were opening in confusion at the touch of his thumb against your cheek. Against your better judgement, you leaned into the brief show of affection, lips parting to accept the pad of his finger. 
You know it won’t lead to much but the small stirrings it causes is worth the brevity. You crave his closeness whether he’s away like any wife would. But loving David Allen takes the punch of out love and jackhammers a new meaning into it. 
“”Thank you.”
The sincerity of it pressures your heart and your eyes close voluntarily this time, just wishing he would meet your expectation.
There is a pause, the silence tarnished by your audible sigh. Part of it is drawn back in a sharp gasp when his nose bumps against your own, then his lips find yours. 
The kiss is slow and measured, familiar even as you dare to run your palms down his front. His stomach curls under your touch, the lean muscle jumping slightly as your fingers challenge the hem of his pants. 
Swallowing, you taunt further with another tug. Venerability paints itself a lovely shade against your skin, coating you in a rosy blush. This wasn’t your arriving plan. But years have taught you that planning ahead rarely went well with David.
Carefully, you reach up and thumb the curve of his lower lip and draw him even closer. Even breaths waft over your face. Measured well, despite the proposition offered before him. 
In a mess of tongue and teeth, you whisper his name and teeter his resolve in the same breath. 
It has been a very long time since he’s humored an excursion like this and you’re patting yourself on the back for taking the chance. 
His mouth teases the skin at the nape of your neck and you wonder how far he plans to take this. His nose brushes against your ear next, nuzzling just under the curve where he knows you like it best. 
Your shirt rides up as he rolls his body against you, his hands quick to tend to your warm skin. His thumb teases the underside of your bra and it’s difficult not to let your mind wander.
Chest rising and falling in erratic intervals, you finally put a voice behind your desires. 
“Will fuck me here?”
David breathes in sharply then and for a moment you’re worried he’ll pull back to he senses. Your heart flutters nervously, awaiting a curt dismissal. But then a knee nudges firmly between your thighs and you find yourself biting your cheek to contain your grin. 
He continues to mouth at your neck while his hands answer your question, quickly and efficiently working at your belt. The hand not holding you in place slips under the hem of your pants with practiced ease. 
It will have to be quick but part of the thrill is inherit in the act itself. You know you’re already wet before his fingers reach their destination, his thumb flicking against your clit as his fingers curl into your sticky wetness. 
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, kitten? That’s why you came so late at night. Hoping to bride me into a quick fuck for your troubles?”
Part of you wished that had been your intention. You would have tried a hell of a lot harder if you’d known he’d be this willing. 
Sorry, Nancy.
There was always something sinfully dangerous about being taken in his office. To think the place where the city puts most of its trust will be defiled by your marital affairs will never fail to get you in the mood. 
David catches you before you can get careless, moving the food a safe distance away from your body before pressing you firmer against the desk. He doesn’t pay much attention to your breast but the stimulation from being pressed into the desktop makes up for it. Nothing else matters however when he’s dragging down his pants and your own with hast movements and lining himself up. 
It’s a slow sink- deep as he allows you time to open up for him. 
The situation doesn’t allow for it to be drawn out much longer than that. The frivolous teasing prior had already eaten into your limited time of unsuspicion. Not to mention any concerning noises that might permeate the door.
David does the sound control for you, risking quiet grunts as he digs his grip into the curve of your hip. His pace is slow but firmly backed by his weight as he quite literally fucks the air right out of your lungs, thrust near hard enough to shake the desk. 
He lifts his hips slightly, just enough too prod for the right angle, hitting that same spot again and again as you grip desperately at his arms. You return the favor, stealing his groans as you kiss back as vehemently as his hips grind into you. It only takes one good strategic thrust to capsize you under your simmering climax.
You remember a time, fumbling in college when you had to remind him to be wary- to pull out. Even early in your marriage you’d been cautious. 
Now, it was welcomed. The fact of not trying to try bleeding into a kink to take off the edge of pending results. You’d decided mutually to accept a child if the possibility arose but you wouldn’t make an intentional effort. 
Nearing your forties now, it wasn’t a forgotten proposition but it hardly factored into your mindset. It’s no where near innocent as your ankles dig firmly into his lower back, drawing him closet and locking him in.
Your husband’s hips stuttered briefly as his fingers reassessed their grip before he resumed his pace with firmer thrusts. Each one bouncing off the round of your backside. The hand at the base of your spine keeps you anchored- not that you’d made any attempt to disagree with anything he was giving you. 
He seemed to reward you for that, a lazy thumb counting your vertebrae in its travels, eliciting a quivering pleasure.  
“Maybe this is the key, huh? You’re always so much more receptive when there is the potential for audience.” 
He knows and fuck, you miss that voice. The way it rumbles deep in his chest before tumbling out in timber. 
“Of course, I’d never let them see. But I’d be happy to show off the results, hmm?”
His hands slid to your flank before curling around to flatten against the plane of your belly. It stays there, stroking the pseudo curve implanted in his head. 
He encourages you to grind back into his quickening thrusts, the fingers at your hip dragging you back in assistance. Whining, you dip your chest and arch your back. Your actions echo your thoughts. Faster. More. Deeper. Please
“That's what you want, right? For me to fill you up, baby?”
God… you drool around the thought. Your words fumbling around gurgles as you attempt to collect yourself enough to stop moaning and properly respond. Blood rushed in your ears and floods down your body. Working yourself up from your toes, you flex them, pushing your weight to your feet and lifting. It offers you a better advantage to pushing back into each eager thrust. 
Rather than praise your efforts, your husband only returns your gesture by carding his fingers through your hair. Tightening. Shoving down. 
“Fuck, yes, Dav-“ You hiss when he knocks particularly hard against your cervix to which he mends with an apologetic kiss to the back of your head. His thrust slow marginally, just enough to regain control before he’s coaxing you again with a nip to the shell of your ear. 
“Tell me, kitten.”
You reach for something-not sure of what. Neither does he it seems, but his hand finds yours anyway to which you curl them both the fabric of your chest. 
“I want it all-please.”
He jerks you back-once...twice before suddenly you’re overwhelmed with the weight of him on top and the pressure of him inside. 
You lie there for a short time, uncomfortable, but too laced by exhaustion to do much else. The feeling of fatigue crept onto you both with out warning, using the disguise of passion to worm its way inside.
He’s not perfect. Neither yourself or this marriage. But where most had doomed you both to fail, mutual perseverance told the rest to go fuck themselves.
There wasn’t much else either of you could offer to the remaining hours of the night. With that resolve, your slow rhythmic strokes against your husband’s back came to a halt, slightly rousing him in the process.
“Mhmm, come home with me, yeah?”
He heaves a sigh but you know you have him. 
“Yeah. Let’s go home.”
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goldenscript · 7 years
Text
21. scorched skin and burning whiskey (m)
↳ prompt: the night we shared while we were drunk when we shouldn’t be → friends to lovers au + jimin
pairing: park jimin | reader genre: friends to lovers au / fluff, smut word count: 3,787
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All notions of sense have flown over your head the moment Park Jimin entered the vicinity. Perhaps it was your fault for falling into his charms, from his cherub-like visage to his very dual-edged smile that was either daring and debonaire or sweet and kind. To characterize him in less than an essay would be more than impossible, even more so if you ever tried to account for the plethora of times where your feelings for him have led you down dark paths of confusion because he was that the kind of boy that was too perfect for you.
He was sweet and caring, not only towards friends and families but towards children and animals. He was the kind to show the latter extra kindness, leaving everyone falling for him in his wake, and it doesn’t help that he can easily make an impression among the public with his handsome visage. That cherub face was like a deceitful demon, presenting his allure and hiding his true intention lest you were lucky enough to see those colors. Not only this but he was also a familiar face to your group of friends, an easy confidant, and dammit, he was more understanding than anyone you’ve ever met. It was almost too good to be true that a guy like this existed especially in your life but since he sauntered in, you could say you’ve been blessed with the friendship you’ve maintained with him over the years even if you two were undoubtedly hung up on one another.
To describe your relationship with Jimin would be far too easy. He’s been your friend since high school, and even now as college graduates. He’s always been by your side to lend a helpful hand and an open ear whenever you needed it though he had never been as close to you as Taehyung was to the either of you. In a way, Jimin made his presence in your life a little more different. From the lingering glances to the fleeting touches exchanged between you two, neither of these things were actions performed with the same intent as just friends. You two knew this well enough. The tension wreaking havoc between the two of you had only worsened over the years, and at this point, it was boiling over to a point where maybe it was time to do something about it or risk missing out on the chance entirely.
And although those dark paths were nothing short of minor mishaps whether they were rescue calls from terrible dates or plain hang outs spent out longer than most should where you noticed just how much his eyes caught the light and lit up his entire face when you said something relatively funny. Or moments where he felt so close—almost too close—to the point where you just didn’t care because it was him and he made you happy. There had been plenty of times where you just missed your chance, small instances where you wished you had just said something or did something but among fear of change and embarrassment from friends, you just couldn’t bring yourself to voice everything your heart was pounding for. And the same could be said about him.
The words had been caught in your throats since high school on that day of Homecoming in your sophomore year.Ironically, you had purchased a dress with money that Taehyung’s parents gave you for dogsitting (something you were currently doing as a post-college graduate), and the moment Jimin saw you at a loss of words in front of the school, with eyes so bright, your heart stirred in your chest—the starstruck expression holding you in place and newfound feelings birthed because it felt so right to be that content with someone—even for someone who was supposed to be just a friend and since then things have never quite been the same.
“What do you say?” he asked, nestling onto the floor with his legs tucked beneath one another. He was like the devil’s incarnate tempting you with this one so-called meager offer but even you could foresee the avalanche that would come from such a simple snowflake. “It’s only one drink. What could that possibly do?”
“One is never just one with you, y’know,” you replied, stretching out your hand for the shot glass and the bottle. He wound up pouring it for you, smiling as you contemplated downing the first shot. As he did the same, you could feel yourself beginning to feel less and less guilty. Responsibilities had been taken care of at the Kim household, and somehow you knew this had been more than chance because hadn’t Jimin mentioned that Taehyung called him over to help you out?
That alone just left you with the conclusion that this was Taehyung’s last sign to you. This was your last chance.
So, you took the shot and he did the same.
--
Little did Jimin know just how much one drink could do to you.
The second, third, fourth, and the ninth blurred together. A sequence of events that soon followed once the number of shots reached the double digits became that of a daze with giggles and half-lidded eyes exchanged between the two of you over topics that didn’t particularly matter or hold any semblance of importance until you both reached for the half-empty bottle at the same time.
You two stared your touching fingers, acknowledging just how much electricity seemed to flow between you to him and vice versa with only laughters constricted in your throats. A part of you wanted to retract your hand, maybe even say something about how fucked up he had you. Anything, really. But no words wanted to leave your lips. Instead your eyes watched his as they parted and managed to choke out some words.
“Y-you wanna play a game?” He looked somewhat nervous asking, but there was an alluring reflection in his eyes that had your breath stuck in your throat. You didn’t know what it was, but it flickered away as soon as his lips pulled into a small smirk. “It’ll be fun.”
Your eyes narrowed slightly, feeling your heart hammering inside your chest. “What did you have in mind?” you asked, slowly loosening your grip on the bottle. His fingertips followed yours, and you didn’t pull away.
“Strip poker,” he answered, raising his brows. “Whaddayah say?”
You wished your heart had stopped pounding so much, and god did you wish you hadn’t drank so much because your competitiveness knew better than to back down to the underlying proposition in his words. It was childish, really. A game you and your shared group of friends had once played the moment everyone turned of drinking age and at least one of them obtained an apartment away from the rules and regulations of the dormitories. But as your mind flickered back to a distant memory that flashed across your mind like a case of déjà vu, you couldn’t help but recall the regret at your own embarrassment as you pulled away from Jimin that night—a rather serious case of your missed chances with him.
You began to feel a little better about the situation. Perhaps Fate really is giving me a second chance.
You didn’t blink as you nodded, a small smirk curving on your lips as you watched his eyes go widely for a moment. “You’re on, Park.”
The deck of cards you two managed to find inside Taehyung’s room upstairs was more than enough incentive for the two of you to take your mini-duo party into your guest bedroom. With the open space and the blinds drawn shut from prying eyes, you were more than ready to take Jimin up on his challenge, though you felt your own excitement burning as hot as the whiskey in your throat as the game had taken a turn after the loss of your (well his) sweatshirt and T-shirt.
Dealing a Royal Flush hand against his Full House was the loss of his T-shirt, unveiling the sight of his well-toned chest and peeking abdominal muscles, an outcome you had no qualms or resignations about. In fact, you were beginning to feel quite confident now that you had gotten a handle on your bearings a little better. However, it wasn’t until his second loss from his Two Pair against your Three that the moment his jeans came down and revealed the sight of his dark grey boxer briefs that you felt your skin beginning to grow even hotter. Even worse, the slight bulge making itself more and more apparent made you gulp. 
“Y/N?” he said in a lower octave, taking you even deeper down into the realm of So Goddamn Fucked to the infinite circle. His position on the bed didn’t help either. He was laid across the full-sized bed, showcasing himself without any mind. His cheeks might’ve been tinged with a hint of rouge but the way he glanced at you from the corner of his eyes indicated he knew exactly what was going on. Still, he asked, “You okay?”
He even sat up, setting his cards down in front of him. His hand touched your forehead for a moment, while his eyes remained solely trained on you though you hadn’t even noticed. It had just barely processed just how close he had gotten.
“W-what are you doing?” you whisper, staring up from his chest to his eyes. His lips were only a mere hair’s breadth away, just one swift move forward and you could taste them and feel them against yours instead of going by fantasy and hope. I could do it right now…
Instead, you refrained and held onto the cards even tighter.
“I…” Jimin gulped, licking his lips before answering. “I was checking your temperature. And, y-your skin is burning.”
You blinked, “Is it? It is pretty warm in here.”
“Your cheeks are bright red right now too,” he mused, leaning just a millimeter closer. “Is it ‘cuz I’m this close to your face?”
His lips are so damn close… fuck.
He tilted his head at you, a certain mischievous smile curving at the corners of his lips. Even with his cheeks burning, he could still manage some sort of composure and it grated you a little. How could he not be this affected? Doesn’t he see how fucked I am for him?
“You’re staring at my lips.”
“They’re really close,” you reply, a little too quickly. This only fueled his fire, a flicker of something else crossed his eyes but it disappeared before you could comment. He removed his palm from your forehead and his fingertips grazed the side of your face before he tucked the stray hairs behind your ear. Instead of pulling away like you begrudgingly assumed, his hand remained there.
“Do you want to kiss me, Y/N?”
Although you half-expected a teasing smile to follow, he remained the same with only the exception of his eyes as a glimmer of hope became evident in the dark hues.
“So what if I do?” You raised a brow at him, loosening your grip on your cards. “What then?”
He smiled, a small chuckling tumbling out of his lips.
You blinked, noting the relief that crossed his features, “What?”
“I want to kiss you so fucking bad, Y/N.” His voice was soft and his eyes seemed faraway for a moment like a memory passing his mind. When you touched his hand on your face, he came back to you with a smile to match his tone. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to.”
“Will you?” you asked with a tone that was beckoning him forth.
“Will you let me?” When you nodded, he continued, “If I do then I don’t want to stop. If you give me this chance, will it just be a kiss?”
It didn’t take you a moment to reply, because you already knew what you wanted without another thought. “I want more, Jimin. I want you.” you said, completely serious.
“Fuck,” he threw his head back and groaned. “Baby, do you mean that?”
“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t,” you replied, moving your hand and leaning toward him. “Is that okay with you?”
“More than okay,” he whispered, straightening his visage and finding you a few millimeters away. His hand moved from your face, settling beside your hip. “With you, it’s completely okay.”
You smiled, only now registering just how much your heart was thundering inside your chest. The alcohol still streaming through your system was giving you courage, and it didn’t take you long before you suggested finishing the game.
His brows screwed together and his lips parted to hesitate but you giggled.
“Last round, I promise.” Your hands found your cards, only twitching slightly to just lay them out. “If you win this round, these,” you gestured to your shorts. “Come off. But if I win, those,” you nodded to his bottoms. “Deal?”
When you revealed your One Pair and he came at you with a Four of a Kind, you simply rolled off the bed and shimmied out of your shorts. He watched you with slightly narrowed eyes,“You planned that?”
“You’re terrible at bluffing, Chim.” When he spluttered out a denial, patting his legs and moving them to hang off the edge of the bed and earning even more splutters. “Your eyes light up too much when you get good cards, and I know you’ve been dying to see me like this, so it works out for both of us.”
He sat there and watched as you clambered onto his lap to straddle either side of his waist. His hands found purchase on the swells of your hips, leaving flames erupting their wake. The way his eyes met yours deciphered his previous look, the dark edge of lust igniting a burn in your core and even just a small gyration to sate the sensation only fueled your desire to feel him.
“Fuck,” he shuddered beneath you. His hands gripped your waist tighter, squeezing only slightly as you let out an unexpected breathy moan. “If you keep this up, I’ll just come y’know.”
“Is that so bad?” you asked, resting your arms on his shoulders. “Don’t you want this?”
“Of course!” His eyes widened slightly before his eyes searched yours for any hesitation. “I just want to savor this…” He didn’t say anything after a moment as his eyes trailed your body, resting on your eyes and they softened. “I’ve just wanted to have a moment with you for so long, Y/N. So so so long. And I want to kiss you so goddamn bad right now. So before you fuck me up more than you have already, can I kiss you?”
Without warning, you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him closer. His eyes widened slightly but his hands made their way around your waist and pulled you closer into his own desire awaiting you.
“Of course you can, Jimin,” you whispered, leaning your forehead against his. The smile on his face was undeniably a breathtaking sight, a one of kind view that made you feel even happier because it was your own doing. And the adoration that flooded his eyes made your heart pounded even louder.
“Do you hear that?” He nodded when you pointed at your chest. “It’s like this because of you. Because I love you so goddamn much and I have had no fucking clue how to tell you until now. Because I’m drunk and half-naked for you. I love you.”
He didn’t say a word and looked down, absorbing your words for a few moments. His cheeks looked redder than ever, and the moment he looked up to meet your eyes, he smiled. “I love you too.”
He didn’t say a word and looked down, absorbing your words for a few moments. His cheeks looked redder than ever, and the moment he looked up to meet your eyes, he smiled. “I love you too.”
He didn’t give another second of silence to pass, taking that very instance to press his lips firmly against yours with as much emotion he could muster. You could feel the love and the desire meeting your own. You could taste the whiskey and mint and a hint of your own cherry ChapStick in the mix, and it didn’t stop as one kiss became two then three then four then five and all melted together into a number you couldn’t quite think of like the shots of whiskey.
He gently leaned back, moaning as you continued to grind into his hardening member. The guttural rumble reverberated around in your chest, fueling your drive to continue your ministrations while your lips never seemed to part lest to breathe or just to enjoy the feeling of your bodies studied by the grazing of fingertips.
His very mewlings against your lips curved a smirk and the gooseflesh risen on his skin after you had just touched made you grow in confidence. You allowed your hands to rest on either side of his face, kissing him so deeply and so fervently that you two had to pull away just for a breather.
Sitting upward, you tugged at the clasps behind your back and allowed the unhooked undergarment to fall off the side of the bed with a mischievous smirk. His reddened, well-worn lips had fallen open, watching as you moved off of him to shimmy out of your panties.
You looked at him expectantly though his gaze roamed your body once more with wonder and heartwarming enamor. This is happening…
“Lemme get a condom,” you said, scurrying off to your bag and grabbing the spares you kept in case the situation ever arisen. You would’ve guessed Jimin had some, but from the dazed expression on his face, he was still a little love drunk at the moment.
His own undergarments had been removed joining the pile of your clothes with a few cards strewn across the carpeted floor. You looked over at him with a smile, ripping open the package before placing the condom on his hardened member. The contact of your hand was enough to get him quiver again, eliciting a soft moan. Instead of laying side ways, he moved toward the pillows and sprawled out across the middle.
“Ready?” you asked, getting ready to straddle his waist once again.
“C’mere,” he said, beckoning you forth. His fingers grasped your chin and he pressed his lips to yours as chastely as can be. When you leaned back, he added, “I’m ready as long as you are. We don’t even have to do this tonight.”
“I want to,” you said, slowly easing yourself atop of him. The pain subsided just as soon as he was completely inside you. Even so, you focused on him, watching his reactions and hoping that the sensation wasn’t too much for him. “You okay?”
He cracked open an eye and sighed, “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
You laughed, placing your hands atop of his chest as you continued to rise your hips and let them fall against his. The sound it created sent a tingles across your skin, all you wanted to do was hear it, and so you did it once more the moment he egged it on with his own moaning. His hands had spoken, tightening as his helped keep you steady.
“Fuck, that feels so good.” he said, running his hands up and down your sides. “You feel so good, baby.”
You couldn’t even think of a response, the only thing that remained on your mind was the very fact that you were doing this with him. You told him you loved him and he felt the same way. It felt like a dream. A beautiful fucking dream that you never wanted to end.
Soon enough, the passing exchange hadn’t taken long before you two came after a few more rounds. The nips and colors of fleeting burgundy hues only building the eruption that came the moment you told you in a husky, low-toned voice to let go did you exactly that. Riding away the waves of euphoria and chasing the last bits of energies you both had until you were both spent. He had managed to get up, relieving himself and pulling on his boxers. You did the same and tugged on your panties and his T-shirt before joining him in the dimly-lit room.  
The cards had been cleaned up, and the blanket was open for you and only laying there beside him did you take the time to really look over at him. Brushing back the soft, dark tendrils, you felt your heart swelling. His half-lidded eyes and curled lips sent your heart in a tizzy, allowing you to snuggle deeper into his awaiting arms.
“Will you be with me?” you asked, relishing in the touch of his arms wrapped around you.
He smiled, eyes fully open, “Of course, I will. I’ve wanted this more than just dancing with you at Homecoming.”
“You still remember that?” You couldn’t help but smile.
“Of course I do!” It meant something to him too. “I haven’t gotten it out of my mind since then.”
“Is that where you went tonight?”
He blinked, “You noticed that?”
“Yeah,” you released a breathy laugh. “You’re not very subtle.”
“Well, now I’m here.” he said with a growing smile, tightening his hold on your waist. “And I’ll be with you as always.”
You two didn’t say anything for a moment, but the deep breath he relinquished stopped you from uttering another word.
“You looked so beautiful that night, did you know that? I really think I started loving you then.” His voice grew softer as he continued, “Not just because you were pretty, but ‘cuz… you were so free like nothing mattered. I dunno. Thinking back to that night, I wished I had said something instead of waiting this long to make my move.”
You met his eyes, feeling your cheeks burning once again.
“S’okay, Jimin. It takes two right?” He nodded. You took a breath then said, “And anyway, I love you now even more than I did back then.”
He pulled you in tighter and moved you atop of his chest, now entangling your limbs together but you didn’t mind. His fingertips stroked your hair and he softly said, “I’m really glad I got to tell you this.” Pressing his lips to the top of your head, he continued to stroke your hair. “Now sleep.”
“You too.”
He shushed you, humming a soft tune. The combination of that and the warmth of his body soon lulled you to sleep, and not even the hangover or the realization the following morning was enough for you to regret any of it.
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This Is Forever
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HI umm I was wondering if you could do a one shot where the reader has been a part of Alexandria for a while and she and Daryl have started to fall for eachother without the other one knowing and she goes to The sanctuary and offers herself in return for daryls safe return to Alexandria? And then negan calls Daryl into his room and makes a scene causd he's jealous about how the reader is in love with Daryl and Daryl finds out that way and somehow Daryl and the reader end up "getting cozy ;)" HI I just sent a request for a Daryl X reader one shot where the reader gives herself to negan in exchange for daryls safe return to Alexandria, sorry it's me again lol! I forgot to ask if you could also make it like negan brings the reader to Alexandria in horrible condition all tied up and Daryl sees it and it drives him crazy before they some how end up "getting cozy ;)" lol I'm so sorry this is so much to ask! I love your writing by the way!!<33
Somehow, I’m kinda sorta catching up but also not really because I have a million more requests left to write I am such trash omg how did I earn 1,000 followers? Hahaha I didn’t have a chance to write at all last weekend. I was at a charity event my dad runs every year. All the proceeds go to an amazing local charity for autism. From merchandise and raffle tickets alone, we made 5,000 dollars. That’s not counting things like ticket sales and getting in the door. That hasn’t been counted yet. If you wanna hear more about it, let me know because this charity is close to my heart because my brother is autistic. If you wanna know more about it, I’m gonna post it on another blog on wordpress so let me know!! Also, just a reminder that I do have a Wattpad account. My username is PerfectInsanity17 but I haven’t posted in a while for one because I’ve been working on this and secondly, not a lot of people were reading my work so I paused for a bit. But I’ve got three stories to read on there. If you’d like me to keep going on those stories, let me know!
How did you end up here?
A few days ago, things were wonderful. Things couldn’t get any better. Maggie and Glenn would be having a baby, Alexandria was thriving, you were rebuilding the wall. The only complaint you had was that your friendship with Daryl had become more and more complicated. The more time you spent with him, the stronger your feelings got. But he constantly kept you at arm’s length and there was no possible way to get more than friendship from him. But if that was your only complaint, then you really had nothing to worry about.
How could so much go wrong in just a few days?
In just a few days, Alexandria’s only doctor was killed, Daryl ran off to get vengeance on her killer, Glenn, Michonne, and Rosita went after him, something went wrong with Maggie’s baby, and mere hours later, Glenn and Abraham would be dead, murdered mercilessly right in front of you and the entire group. And you would watch Daryl, bloody, pale, and weak being dragged away as a prisoner. All because of one man. All because of Negan.
You’d caught Negan’s attention briefly but it was nothing more than a smile and a nod from him. You wanted to cry out in protest when he had Daryl thrown into a van and driven away but Rick told you not to. The crushed skulls of your friends didn’t hurt in convincing you to stay quiet either.
How did you get here?
It was only a few days later when Carl got the crazy idea in his head to sneak into a savior’s truck and head for the sanctuary. You weren’t sure which was crazier, Carl’s plan to kill Negan, or your plan to switch places with Daryl. How much good would switching with Daryl do? Probably wouldn’t help all that much. But Daryl would be home where he belonged. You had no idea what they were doing to him and that made your heart ache even more. He was already an abused man with a bruised soul. He might not recover from even more damage. If you could get him away from all this, then you would. You’d walk through fire for that man.
The things one does for love.
Seeing Carl with such bloodthirst was unsettling. He managed to take out two of Negan’s men before someone stopped him. And through it all, Negan was nothing but amused by the situation.
“And you,” Negan said when you emerged. He pointed at you with his bat, its barbed wire fresh and clean, as if it didn’t have flesh hanging off it and blood dripping from it like a leaky faucet just a few days ago. The memory of Abraham and Glenn’s flesh dangling from the barbed wire made you nauseous.
“What’re you doin’ here?” Negan asked.
“I wanna make a deal with you,” you stated. Laughter erupted from the men surrounding the truck but Negan was quiet. Once the laughter died down, he let out a chuckle and rested the bat on his shoulder.
“Shit, could’ve just driven here yourself,” he said, “Don’t gotta be a stowaway. Come on in, let’s talk about this deal.”
You’d caught a glimpse of Daryl before Negan took you and Carl outside. He was rounding up walkers for some reason you couldn’t quite understand. He was filthy, his thin hair soaked in sweat, his face marked with cuts and bruises that made your blood boil with rage. At least he’d recovered from being shot. He was alive, that was the most important thing. That’s how you had to rationalize it to keep from losing your mind. Otherwise, you weren’t sure what you would’ve done.
“So, what’s your name?” Negan asked once the two of you were alone, “Didn’t have a chance to ask when we met.”
“Between murdering two people and kidnapping another, how could you have found the time?” you shot back, “Name’s Y/N.”
“Shit!” Negan exclaimed, slamming his hands down on his legs, “You’re just full of piss and vinegar, aren’t ya?”
“Look, I came here to make a deal with you, Negan,” you said, “You gonna hear me out or not?”
“By all means,” Negan said, “Don’t be shy, Y/N. I’m shakin’ in my boots.”
“I was hoping you’d let Daryl go.”
“Not a chance.”
“Let me finish,” you snapped, “Let him go and take me in his place.”
“You gotta forgive me, Y/N,” Negan chuckled, “I’m kinda confused. Why would you give a damn if you were here instead of him?”
“Because he doesn’t deserve whatever you’ve put him through.”
“Funny you should say that,” Negan said, “Because Daryl seems to think differently.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” you said, “But that doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t deserve this.”
“And again I say, why do you care?” Negan inquired.
“Because I love him,” you blurted out, “And I need him to be safe.”
Negan’s smile fell and he leaned back in his chair. He was no longer amused by the situation. You couldn’t imagine Negan being jealous considering this was the only time you’d ever spoken. Then again, he was quick to murder two people he’d never met before. So, maybe he was quick to…lust.
“You stay right there,” Negan said, hopping up onto his feet. The sly grin was back on his face as he headed for the door, “I will be right back. Just give me two minutes.”
You leaned back in your chair, allowing yourself to get just a little comfortable as Negan left the room. It probably wasn’t the greatest idea to get the slightest bit comfortable. If Dwight or any of Negan’s other meathead henchman came in, you’d be screwed. Negan could easily trap you in this comfort you’d sunk into.
After a few minutes, Negan returned with Dwight following close behind, dragging Daryl by the collar of his sweatshirt. You gasped but Negan held out his hand before you could get up.
“Don’t move,” Negan said, turning his attention to Daryl, “Well, Y/N made an interesting offer. Would ya like to hear it?”
“What did you do to her?” Daryl snapped.
“Nothin’ at all,” Negan retorted, “Now pay attention. Y/N seems to think you don’t deserve any of this. And she wants to make a trade. I let you go and take her instead.”
“Why would you tell him this?” you snapped.
“And do you wanna know why?” Negan continued.
“Negan!” you exclaimed, “Don’t!”
He threw his head back, erupting in laughter, “Because she loves you! Now ain’t that just fantastic, Daryl? The things people do for love am I right?”
Daryl stood there staring at you, stunned by the revelation. He fought to keep a straight face. He didn’t want Negan to read him and figure everything out. If he was alone with you, he would’ve…well, he wasn’t entirely sure what he would’ve done. From the time you’d met, he was certain that you’d never seen him as anything more than a friend. And wasn’t this the worst time to find out he was wrong? When he couldn’t say a word in response to you.
“I gotta say, Y/N, you’ve made an interesting offer,” Negan continued, “You can stay if you want to but there ain’t a chance in hell of me letting him go free.”
“No!” Daryl blurted out, earning a rough yank from Dwight, “Just let her go.”
Negan sat back down across from you, nodding to the door, “Dwight, I think Daryl needs a time out. Put him in his cage.”
“Y/N, don’t do this,” Daryl continued as Dwight dragged him out of the room, “Get out of here!”
Dwight slammed the door behind them and it was just you and Negan alone, trapped in the uncomfortable silence. You folded your hands together on your lap, shaking your head, “I’m not staying unless you let Daryl go. Otherwise, I’m leaving with Carl.”
“We’ll talk about this later,” Negan said, “You just hang out here for a while. I’ve got some things to tend to.”
You didn’t move from your spot for hours. Negan had left to take Carl him and you considered sneaking away after a while but you wouldn’t leave without Daryl. And you had no idea where he was and you couldn’t exactly search for him without being caught. You really had no way of escaping so you just continued to wait.
After several hours, Negan burst into the room, fuming and swinging his bat around. He was enraged, pointing his bat at you, “What the fuck did you do?”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t fucking pretend you don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about.”
“I haven’t moved from this spot!” you shouted, “I’m clueless!”
“Well, looks like you got your deal after all,” Negan said, “Daryl’s gone, and you’re mine now.”
Another few days passed and Daryl had gone from hilltop to the kingdom but ultimately ended up back in Alexandria with the others, prepared to fight Negan with everything they had. Dwight offered his assistance but knew nothing about you or your condition. He hadn’t seen you since the day you arrived, which sent chills down Daryl’s spine. It must’ve meant that Negan had dealt with you personally. Had he killed you? Or…worse? Things he didn’t want to think about.
“We’re gonna win,” Rick declared.
“What about Y/N?” Daryl asked.
“Once we finish this, we’ll be able to go over there and get her,” Rick explained, “I’m sure Y/N is fine, Daryl. Negan won’t kill her. She could be a potential bargaining tool for him. Don’t you think?”
Daryl grunted, “Sure. Better make the fucker pay for the shit he’s done.”
“Believe me, we will,” Rick said, “No doubt about that. Let’s just get ready. Try not to worry, Daryl. Y/N can take care of herself. She was bold enough to leave and try to get you out of there, she’ll be just fine.”
Just as Daryl had been afraid of, Negan had been the one to handle you personally. Negan was convinced you had something to do with Daryl’s escape and it was incredibly bad timing but you had no idea Daryl had even gotten out. Negan of course didn’t believe you for a second and his solution to this problem was to simply have you beaten until you admitted to it. But you knew that if you did, he’d most likely have you killed. On the other hand, you were so delirious that you weren’t sure which would be worse, death or being beaten.
You were just barely conscious when Negan threw you into a coffin. After a few minutes, you heard some familiar voices that made you perk up and felt the coffin being lifted but there wasn’t much you could do as you could barely move and were too weak to push open the coffin.
“I’ve got somethin’ you might be interested in,” Negan said. The coffin creaked and groaned as he pulled it open. You turned away from the blinding afternoon sunlight but were quickly dragged out by your upper arm, feeling Negan’s leather jacket against your skin.
“Y/N!” Daryl exclaimed from behind the gate. Rick stood at the very top of the gate, staring at you in shock. He knew that Negan wouldn’t have killed you but he still wasn’t expecting you to be so bruised and bloody.
“She made the deal,” Negan continued, “She stayed, he left. But I’m gonna take Daryl back now. If you all cooperate, Y/N will live. But, it’s a limited time offer so I’d make this decision quick.”
After that statement, everything became a blur. Bullets were flying, everyone was running around in a panic, ducking down and hiding. You could’ve sworn you heard Daryl shouting so you followed the sound of his voice despite how disoriented you felt. Negan was too distracted to notice your absence or try to prevent you from running off. You were avoiding all the gunfire better than you expected since you weren’t even trying. All you knew was you had to find Daryl. It felt like years since you’d seen him. And the last time you had seen him wasn’t exactly pleasant for either of you.
After being unable to find any familiar face, you realized it was pointless to be in the middle of all this gunfire when you could barely focus. You sat under a tree off in the corner where the gunshots were faint and you were free to take a deep breath. Your bones ached, your head throbbed, the blood and sweat that had accumulated on your body over the last few days left a layer of grime you couldn’t stand. Your eyes were so swollen, it was easier to just lay your head back and close your eyes.
The chaos ceased for a moment but you weren’t allowing yourself to feel relieved yet. Sure, Rick and the rest of the group could’ve won but they also could’ve lost and it would become a slaughter soon. Soon, people were shouting and firing their guns again and this time, roaring followed. Roaring? Why would you be hearing roaring? Who would have an animal like that?
You kept your eyes shut the entire time. If you didn’t see it, it couldn’t be happening, right? You thought of the simpler times when you and Daryl went on runs together, when you’d be spending days at a time alone together. He was always so quiet but his blue eyes spoke louder than his mouth ever could. He always hugged his legs to his chest, like he was shielding himself, very rarely ever made eye contact. And when he did, he seemed so unsure and would only peek at you from behind his wispy hairs hanging over his face. You’d wake up early in the morning while he was still sleeping and you’d push those hairs away from his face just to sneak a peek at his peaceful expression, his chest moving steadily up and down. You never wanted those runs to end. You had been convinced every time that you would tell him how you truly felt about him but in the end, you could never go through with it. And now, it could easily be too late. Daryl could be dead or dying. With all that gunfire, the possibility of him being alive was slim.
The second round of insanity ended much faster and then silence followed for several hours. You refused to move from your spot though, still so tired and so sore. This was the first time you’d been able to relax in days without fear of getting hurt again.
Footsteps approached you but you still didn’t move or open your eyes. The person’s clothes rustled and you heard them set something down in the grass beside them. It was when the person spoke that you finally opened your eyes and a pair of blue ones were staring back at you.
“Y/N,” Daryl said, “I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you. Thought you were dead.”
“I thought you were,” you whimpered. Despite how injured you were, you threw your arms around him, nearly tackling him, “I’m so glad you made it out okay. Who got you out?”
“Not sure,” he replied, “What did that asshole do to you?”
“He was convinced that I was the one to get you out,” you explained, “The timing was pretty coincidental I’ll admit but he wouldn’t listen to me. I don’t wanna talk about that now. I’m just glad it’s over. Is Negan dead?”
Daryl shook his head, “Everyone from hilltop and the kingdom came at the last second and chased Negan and his guys outta here. But they’ll be back. Come on, let’s get you looked at. Can ya stand?”
“I think so,” you grunted as you got up on your feet. Being in one position for the last few hours made your muscles scream out in agony when you finally straightened out. Daryl grabbed your hand as the two of you walked to the infirmary. With all the commotion, you didn’t feel it was the right time to bring up what Negan had said a few days ago. Daryl would just get uncomfortable and shut down like he always did when someone brought up heavy conversation. Expressing emotion was not on Daryl’s list of skills. Especially now with his mind on other things, talking about that just wasn’t as important.
You gave it about a week. Your injuries had mostly healed by then. But other than that, you and Daryl were back with your group and things felt almost normal again. But you still felt uneasy around him. And he seemed more quick tempered than usual, getting frustrated with you easier than before.
Daryl had taken you back to the infirmary after you’d reopened a wound while you were trying to regain your strength and practicing your shooting. He sighed a few times as he was cleaning up the wound on your arm.
“What’re you thinking, Y/N?” he grumbled.
“Can’t just sit around forever,” you replied, “I have to get back to how I was.”
“If you hadn’t gone there in the first place,” Daryl muttered, “You should’ve stayed here where it was safe.”
“I had to go,” you argued, “You weren’t safe.”
“I don’t care about me,” Daryl shot back, “You shouldn’t worry about me so much, Y/N.”
“Didn’t you hear what Negan said?” you snapped, “What he told you? I care so much about you, I love you so much. I couldn’t stand the thought of you being hurt or ending up dead.”
“Well, how do you think I felt?!” Daryl shouted, tossing the bloody rag into the trashcan, “I hated every minute of you being there. I knew what Negan was doing and there was nothing I could do.”
You were startled by his outburst. He so rarely offered much in response but he was off now, “I don’t wanna lose you, Y/N. Not again. Can’t go without you again.”
“I didn’t know you felt that way,” you said.
“Yeah, well, didn’t wanna give Negan any more leverage than he already had,” Daryl said, “I didn’t actually believe him when he said it. It’s true though, what he said. Isn’t it?”
You kicked your feet, grinning as you grabbed his hands and pulled him closer to you so he stood between your legs, “It’s very true, Daryl. I love you so much. There was just…never a good time to say it.”
Daryl nodded, his own way of saying he loved you too. You were content with his not actually saying it because you knew he felt it. You felt it in his touch when he ran his fingertips up your arms. You felt it in the kiss he placed on your lips, careful and hesitant in all of these gestures but they spoke to you.
You wrapped your arms around Daryl’s torso, your hands slipping underneath his shirt and roaming his back. He tensed a little at your touch but soon he was rolling with it, kissing along your jaw and down your neck, his teeth grazing your shoulder. You inhaled deeply, taking in his scent as his trembling fingers tugged on your shirt. Pulling away briefly, you threw your shirt over your head and tossed it to the floor, quickly bringing Daryl back in. He groaned against your skin, running his nails down your back. You unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders.
“You really wanna do this?” you mumbled, wrapping your legs around his hips.
Daryl nodded and ran for the door to lock it as quickly as he could to make it back to you. You laid back in bed as he climbed over you, burying his face in your neck. You wrapped your legs around his hips once more and he responded with an experimental thrust of his hips, grinding against you. A squeak escaped your lips as you gripped him tighter in your arms.
“Shit, Y/N,” he grunted, “Never wanted anything so bad.”
A fire was burning deep within you and he’d barely touched you. Neither of you could bear it anymore, you couldn’t hold back any longer. You lifted your hips so Daryl could pull your pants down with ease. You sat up a bit and smashed your lips against his while you tugged his pants down past his hips. You felt his fingers slip underneath the waistband of your underwear, his thick fingers cold against your warm flesh. As his fingers reached your core, you bit his lip in surprise. You retaliated by allowing your hands to explore, sliding into his boxers and gripping him firmly in your hand.
“Daryl,” you whispered, slowly stroking him. Daryl groaned, whipping your body around and pulling your underwear down your legs. You gripped the headboard, your heart racing as you panted and whined. You wiggled your hips impatiently, looking back at him over your shoulder, “What’re you waiting for?”
“Stay still,” Daryl said, slapping his hands down on your hips. You jumped but smiled at the fiery feeling growing in the pit of your stomach. Biting your lip, you lowered your head. Without warning, he plunged into you and you both groaned in unison as he stayed there for a moment, allowing the two of you to adjust to the senstation.
“Goddamn, Daryl,” you said. Daryl slowly started moving his hips back and forth, his hands moving up and down your back. He held back any noises, only allowing a few grunts. You couldn’t hold back your pleasure as you moaned and whimpered, curling your toes and bunching the sheets up in your fists. The ache grew stronger with every thrust and you knew this wouldn’t last long for either of you. But this closeness would be worth it no matter how long it was.
Suddenly, Daryl lifted you up so the two of you were on your knees, your back against his chest as he thrust harder against you, beads of sweat running down the side of his head and dripping off his jaw, landing on your shoulder. With one hand on your hip, he moved his free hand down your stomach until he reached your sweet spot, his fingers moving in quick, deep circles. You writhed and rolled your hips against his fingers, flashes of white in your vision as you finally came. Your legs were weak and once Daryl let go of you, you fell forward, his continued thrusting sending you into aftershocks and your walls squeezed him so tightly, he couldn’t hold back anymore. He leaned his head back as he released inside of you.
“I can’t…we just…fuck,” Daryl said, more out of breath than you’d ever seen before, “You alright?”
“More than alright,” you replied, rolling onto your back. He flopped down beside you, “That was amazing. I can’t believe we did that though. Ever think we’d end up here?”
“Nah, but then again, you’ve always been unpredictable,” Daryl replied, kissing your sweaty temple. He never thought he’d ever have the courage to tell you how he felt about you. This had been the last thing he ever expected to happen but he wouldn’t change it for anything. He never wanted to let you go. This was forever.
OKAY THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR PATIENCE I KNOW I’M ABSOLUTE TRASH I APOLOGIZE FOR TAKING SO GODDAMN LONG. Writing smut is just harder to get done for some reason.
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4wordletter · 5 years
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@say-never
first of all, i’m sorry for offering the pathetic excuses. you deserve better than that. sometimes things require a deeper level of introspection and a higher level of self-awareness. i’ve taken time out to really think about our discussion so that i can dig deeper and give you a real answer.
i think at times i feel so restricted by that little chat window. when we’re instant messaging i feel i don’t have time to really think about what it is that i want to tell you, hence a proper post written on my laptop instead of my phone.
you’re right, i have gone further than virginia for someone i loved. you have to understand the context in which that happened. 
back then i was so starry-eyed, so passionate. my heart was full of love - really pure love. it wouldn’t have mattered if this woman was on the moon or mars, there was no barrier, no obstacle, no amount of distance that would quell the feelings i had for her.
i loved her like a child. it was pure and innocent. i thought she was some sort of angel. i idolized her. she was my hero. i wrote her love letters and poems. i made little pictures for her. little signs saying “have a great day!” - i loved her family and her friends both. i’d never miss anyone’s birthday. 
i wanted to love everyone that she cherished. somehow, i saw her friends and family as being part of her. i’d make silly pictures for them too! i’d wish them happy birthday. i’d send cards and gifts. i was a child and i loved like a child.
my heart was open and pure. i didn’t understand anything. i was a disney prince and she was my princess. there was no garden of thorns nor any dragon that could come between us. sure, i had problems. problems that i overcame. i used the fire in my heart that i felt for her and i propelled myself forward. i became more. i strengthened myself. i loved and i loved and i loved.
in response to any cynicism i wrote long, winding paragraphs confessing my true intentions, how hard i was trying. i wanted to reassure both her and her parents that i wasn’t fucking around. i bent over backwards. i want to show my love. i sent bouquet after bouquet of flowers. i remembered her smile in her towelturban and i wanted to see it again. i wanted to make her feel happy and loved. in response to any hate or insult i’d just show more and more love. it wasn’t faked. it was real, everything was real for me. she could call me a prick 11 times in a row and i would tell her how much i loved her.
i was a child. so naive. literally untarnished by the world.
the thing is, you can only be naive once. i was only that way because i had limited exposure to relationships. this girl was, in so many ways, the only girl i truly loved. 
i told my first girlfriend i loved her. i thought i did. i was 17 and she was the first girl who had really paid any attention to me. she said she loved me and i said it back. it became a habit and a routine to just say it. i never stopped to think if it were true. 
it wasn’t. i just liked the attention and i liked having sex with her.
my second girlfriend: this was a bandaid relationship. i moved from the first relationship straight into the second. i felt like, somehow, i needed someone. i needed someone to anchor my identity to. i told her i loved her as soon as i could. i needed to hear it said back to me. 
she was more a friend than anything else. i regret trying to turn it into more than a friendship. still, looking back i can categorically say that i loved her just as i love my friends and family - not romantically, not passionately. not with fire, but as a friend.
i think it’s really easy to say you love someone when you’re in a relationship. it’s been 2 years since my last relationship ended, so i’m afforded some perspective through that. 
i can wholeheartedly say that i loved this woman with all my heart. i never doubted how i felt about her. like i said, this love propelled me to become exactly what i needed to become in order to lay a solid foundation for a life with her. 
there wasn’t anything i wouldn’t do. i went to relationship coaches and parenting seminars. i cooked for her parents. i would have died for her child. there were no limits. i sincerely wanted to do all these things. i never thought what happened would happen. i thought it was all my fault. i thought i just wasn’t showing enough love. i tried harder and harder and harder.
in many ways, it was as if i were discovering true love for the first time. i’d never felt anything like it. my god, the goosebumps and butterflies. 
childlike. like a 14 year old falling in love for the first time. that’s how i was. naive. dumb, deluded. looking back, it’s no wonder that her parents were so suspicious of me. i doubt they’d seen anything like it from someone my age - someone so willing to do so much. i understand now, because love in the real world isn’t anything like how i felt. 
first-loves feel like that, but then you learn. you learn the hard way.
having your heart broken and stomped on not by one person but their whole family changes you as a person. it changes your ideas of love. it changes how you see yourself and it changes how you see others. it changes how you see the world and how you interact with it. it changes how you see your future and how you see your life.
it changes everything. it rewires the fabric of your personality and re-engineers your neural circuitry. you become a different person. you adapt to the pain. you become unrecognizable to yourself and others.
it fucking destroyed me, hannah. that’s not hyperbole, it’s an understatement. please note that when i say “adapt” i mean ADAPT. i’m not implying any sense of forward progress here, any sense of growth. yes, i’ve grown in so many ways, but there are parts of me that are dead and that won’t ever come back to life. in some ways i’ve maladapted. sometimes maladaption is the only adaption.
i’m sure you’re familiar with that quote by some dude who said not to stare into the abyss because it’ll stare back into you.
i searched so long for answers to all these questions i had in my head. why did this happen? what did i do? what did i do wrong? did i deserve this?
i got no reply. i searched high and low. i stared into that abyss. there was nothing. no answers. just a void. nothingness. that dude was right, it does stare back. the parts of me that wanted answers, that were crying out in pain, are numb and dead.
sometimes the only way to adapt is to stop caring. to adopt apathy as a core part of you. it’s pathetic, but it works. i could not go on asking questions with no answer. that’s a short road to insanity.
no, instead, i became numb. i repressed so much that i honestly don’t care any more. even if her parents appeared on my doorstep tomorrow morning saying how wrong they were, how sorry they were for everything they did, i’m not sure i’d even feel anything because after all this i’ve been conditioned to not feel anything.
there are only so many phonecalls that go unanswered, only so many voicemails, messages and emails that go unreplied to before you internalize it all: no one gives a damn about you. stop crying, stop caring. man up and cut the bullshit. this is the real world and it’s cold and callous. deal with it. there’s no room in the world for your shitty little feelings so pack it up and go home. stop caring, stop loving.
i feel it’s a natural human response, when you’re presented with such an unrelenting apathy, to make that a part of you. you cut the emotion out of your heart with bloodied hands and you get used to the fact that it’s better to feel NOTHING than feel like you’re unheard, that your feelings don’t matter.
listen, i don’t give a fuck about any of this. i know i’m dead inside. talking about feelings feels icky and weird because deep down i don’t have any anymore. i just remember what it was like, i remember what i went through. please don’t think i’m having a downer and i’m reminiscing over any of this shit, because i’m not. i’m merely relaying to you why i am this way.
i’ve told you a million times how i have this dark stuff inside of me. dark stuff is a misnomer really because there is no “stuff” - there’s a lack of stuff. a lack of light. it’s numbness, darkness, blackness. nothingness - it’s the abyss that looked back.
this is just who i am now. i know that sounds defeatist and maybe it is, but what’s the alternative? if you take a baseball bat to my knees then, realistically, i’m probably not gonna run a 10k again - or at least it will be pretty difficult.
forces shape us and shape our brains. i’m not insane or anything and for the most part i’m really loving and light. i love everyone and i’ve surrounded myself with loving people.
still, i’d never entertain the thought of a relationship. i see less and less value in them. i’m not that guy anymore. i’d never go more than, say, 45 minutes to see a girl. the thought of crossing the ocean for anyone seems weird and outlandish now. i’ve changed so much. at my core i am a different person. 
her parents changed me. in some ways for the better - picking myself up from what they did increased my confidence a hundredfold. if i can come back from that i can come back from anything at all. literally anything at all.
i’m not stupid though, i know how awful that situation was and i’ll never put myself in that situation again. i’ve learned my lesson. i will never love that deeply, never ever ever. i’ll never allow myself to get in that deep.
i don’t want you to fall in love with me. i’ll push you away if you show me signs that you love me. i don’t want any of that. it’s not for me. you can’t fix me so please don’t even try.
last week you freaked out when i took a day to myself. i hate that so much. please don’t place that much importance on me. there’s nothing inside me that you can love. the land inside me is so arid and dry that even if you try your best to plant your love and watch it grow, it won’t. it will die. please don’t waste your time.
let me be clear: this isn’t like the movies. i’m not some jaded boy you can love until he’s happy again. it doesn’t work that way. i have internalized a lot of really vicious emotional trauma. my brain is literally a different shape and you’re not gonna change that. it’s not romantic, it’s fucked up. so please, don’t attempt to fall for me. don’t waste money on me coming to scotland. there’s literally nothing inside me that’s worth crossing an ocean for.
this is, basically, a long winded way of saying “it’s not you, it’s me” - i think you’re a wonderful person. you have a lovely personality and i bond well with you. even still, loving me will be the end of you. i’ll break you like i’ve been broken. please don’t enter this pain cycle willingly. put an end to it here. don’t love me. don’t even try. i don’t want to hurt you, i don’t want to cause harm to anyone. i want to hold onto this shit until i die. i don’t want to expose anyone to it. i want to keep it to myself and keep it inside. i will never let anyone know me on a deep level because there is stuff down here that will change you like i have been changed. please don’t stare into my abyss. i wouldn’t wish this on anyone.
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porter-sydney-blog · 7 years
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Awkward Encounters || Chatzy
WHO: Sydney Porter, MJ Martinez @mj-martinez, Kendal Cohen-Chang @privileged-ken-doll 
WHEN: February 16, 2017 - Morning
WHERE: Sydney & Blythe’s House
WHAT: After Kendall shows up unexpectedly the night before - and ends up staying the night - MJ shows up as planned and is greeted by someone she wasn’t expecting to see.
WARNINGS: Plenty of awkward tension to go around. Food CW, Depression mentions.
MJ had absolutely no intentions of going to school today, or the next day. A lot of the time, it seemed irrelevant. She knew was an amazing actress - why try to better something that was already perfect? After what Sydney had told her, though, she knew she had to spend the day with her. She felt possessive in a sense, not wanting Sydney to hurt herself again. And fuck it, she was worried. It wasn't often she let herself feel that for someone, but the blonde was the exception. After picking up six large breakfast burritos, she drove towards Sydney's place - a place that was slowly becoming second nature to drive to. After she grabbed the bag of food and parked out on the street, she made her way to the front door. Who the hell was she, really? MJ was pretty sure she hadn't done this for anyone before. And yet, here she was. She pressed the doorbell button a few times to grab the girl's attention, and stood there and waited for her to arrive and let her in.
Kendall had woken up early, her body all too used to be up with the sun for her daily run, but finding a warm body all but plastered to her side had made it impossible to even consider moving. So she had laid there, dozing on and off for hours. The previous night had been strange, to say the least, they hadn't really talked in depth and Ken couldn't begrudge that; they had started as fuck buddies, we're quickly becoming friends, but they were nowhere near heart to heart conversations just yet. Even tho she had shed her sweats and hoodie, the heat had gotten the best of her and unwilling to wake Sydney up, she laid spread eagle on the comfy bed, half of her body exposed to the early morning and the other still in Sydney's possessive hold. Then the doorbell rang, and when it became obvious Blythe wasn't around, she carefully extracted herself from the bed and Sydney's hold, padding downstairs to open the front door, ready to tell whoever was there to fuck off, and instead ended up with her eyebrows high on her forehead at the sight before her. "Well then, I didn't think you'd be so eager to see me. Come on in, Syd is upstairs." It was such a Kendall thing to basically take over any place she found herself at, and figuring MJ had a reason to be there, she merely turned around and went back upstairs.
Sydney wasn’t awoken by the sound of the doorbell ringing so much as it was the warm body she had koala-ed herself onto for the night extracting itself from her grips that did it. The night before last, Sydney had barely gotten an hour of sleep, let alone a full night's rest, so she was more than a little bit unimpressed to be awoken from a deep and much needed slumber. After a few moments of letting her eyes adjust to the light coming in from the crack in the curtains and allowing herself to adjust to conscious life, Sydney shot up out of bed, realizing just who was at the door. She wasn't aware of what Kendall and MJ did behind closed doors, but she knew it extended beyond mere friendship. She nearly stumbled over herself a few times as she raced down the hallway and the stairs to get to the door, only to see that Kendall had already made it there. In almost no clothes, to boot. The icing on the cake, really. "Morning," she greeted them both shyly, offering up an awkward half-smile to them.
MJ was slightly taken aback when Kendall answered the door, and not Sydney. Her eyes scanned the girl, realizing she had little to no clothes on. While she was aware that the two were friends, she didn't realize that the two of them were sleeping together. Kendall's greeting was less than friendly, which only amused MJ. As she made her way inside the house, she looked up in time to see Sydney looking frazzled. "I have no idea what the fuck I just walked in on," MJ started, an eyebrow quirked. She stuffed the bag of food underneath her arm, walking towards them and up the stairs. She couldn't help but feel a tinge of something, but she couldn't really place a finger on it. If it wasn't jealousy, then what was it? MJ could tell that Sydney felt awkward, but she didn't match those feelings. It was surprising, sure, but she didn't feel awkward. "Forget about our plans, Sydney?" MJ asked, amused. She held out the breakfast she had gotten the two of them, and then looked back at Kendall. "Looking good, Kendall."
Kendall was oblivious to Sydney's frazzled state, still being half asleep, she bumped her shoulder softly against the blonde's on her way back to the bedroom, where she flopped down face first without a care in the world. Little by little the pieces started coming together, and had it been anybody else, she would've at least put her sweats back on, but this was MJ, and if there was anyone that knew her body from every possible angle, with or without clothes, it was the brunette. "I know, I always look good." Ken said, flipping onto her back and stretching like a cat with a satisfied groan. "Until I have coffee I so not care to figure out if this real life, or just a wet dream."
Sydney felt that the trek upstairs took even longer than it usually did, with MJ a few steps ahead and Kendall not far behind herself. She didn't have anything to say, really. She hadn't forgotten her plans with MJ, per se, she just wasn't expecting for Kendall to have stayed as long as she did. Not that she was complaining, of course. She needed the sleep and the woman's presence had helped with that tremendously. Sydney stood in the doorway, her gaze focused on the ground and definitely not on Kendall's well toned back that was stretched out luxuriously over her bed. "No, I didn't... I just... We didn't sleep together last night," she explains, the last part rushed out in one breath. "I mean, we /slept/ together but we didn't like...you know..." she said, finally looking up to meet MJ's gaze and gesturing lamely with her hands as if that was going to explain the word she suddenly seemed too shy to utter. It didn't take long for her to realize that her words may have somehow offended Kendall, as if suggesting there would be something wrong with that if they had. "Not that I wouldn't have, of course. I mean, it's not like it would be the first time or anything," she said looking at Kendall and letting out a painfully awkward laugh. God, this was a nightmare. She was still sleeping, she was sure.
MJ took a short moment to appreciate Kendall's body, getting distracted by the situation unraveling between the three of them. It didn't take long for Sydney's words to take her out of her daze, and she turned her head towards the blonde as she stuttered out her words. She had thought it was important to let her know that they hadn't slept together -- as if that was important to let MJ know. Before MJ could get her words out that she wouldn't have cared if the two of them actually had sex, Sydney was speaking again. So, they had slept together. "You need to calm down, Sydney," MJ finally said with a wave of her hand. "Whatever happened last night, I don't give a shit. Though, congratulations on the sex." She paused, her eyes meeting Sydney's. She did say that she had sex in the last year. Little to MJ's knowledge then, Kendall was included in that list. Letting out a sigh, MJ held up the food again. It wasn't that she was annoyed, per se.. it was just the fact that this was not how she expected to spend her morning. "Do you want your breakfast or not?"
Kendall's amusement grew the deeper Sydney dug herself into a hole. She definitely wasn't sleeping, and mimicking her position from last night, folded her hands underneath her head, watching the scene unfold with curiosity. Why was it so important to give MJ so much clarification about what they did -- or didn't do -- the night before? And just as the thought of the possibility of the other two women being involved in some way popped into her head, MJ casually waved it off. Which, by the way, was a huge relief, considering the mess she was already in, unknown by the other two. Then it clicked. MJ had shown up with breakfast for Sydney, and the blonde hadn't seemed surprised, just mighty awkward. There was only one part that didn't fit into this equation, and it was her. "Well, as awkwardly fun as this has been, I won't intrude with your plans any further than I already have." With a sigh, Kendall heaved herself off the bed, looking at Sydney with a small smile as she looked around for her clothes. "Do you have a spare toothbrush by any chance? My mouth feels like a sheep spent the night in it."
Sydney found the congratulations to be odd - especially coming from MJ - but her face turned a rosy shade of red at it, nonetheless. Yeah, this was extremely awkward for her now. Not a moment later she was holding up the food she had retrieved for them and Sydney, though her gaze was partially focused on the floor again, nodded at MJ, only looking up when Kendall spoke up. "Y-you...can stay for food, if you want?" She half-suggested and half-asked MJ, glancing between both of them for what felt like the longest moment of her entire life. "The, um...guest bathroom should have some under the sink," she answered, lamely gesturing toward the hallway. Kendall hadn't been given a grand tour as of yet, but she was sure the woman would be able to quickly figure out which one it was.
MJ couldn't help but feel like she had gotten in the middle of something, which was odd due to the fact that Kendall was acting like just that. She stood there for a moment and watched the situation unravel, brows furrowed and confused. She was under the impression that she would be spending all day in bed with Sydney, and it was not turning out like that. Before she could tell Kendall to stay, Sydney was asking in a shy manner. "I don't care," MJ shrugged, looking between the two of them. She didn't mean for it to come off as rude (even though that was mostly the girl's intentions if she was talking to anyone else), but she thought that Sydney might take it that way. So, she decided to clarify, "yeah, I've got.. six large as fuck breakfast burritos in here. I don't think me and blondie over her can eat all of that, even if we wanted to." It wasn't often that MJ felt awkward, but at this very moment? She definitely did. She had to wonder if Sydney really wanted her there, or if she would prefer Kendall stayed instead. It seemed as if she would find out, anyway.
Kendall went about dressing herself as the other two kept making the situation more tense and awkward than it ever needed to be. It was clear that neither of them knew how to handle the situation, so it was up to her. "How about I go make myself a little more decent while you two finish squeezing all the awkward out of yourselves?" Foregoing the hoodie, she stood before them in sweats and the same white tank top she had slept in, the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra not bothering her in the slightest as she walked out of the room in search for the bathroom. "You have five minutes, use them wisely to whisper amongst yourselves furiously."
Sydney let her gaze fall to the floor again as Kendall moved about the room to get dressed. You could cut the awkward tension with a knife, and she was certain it was all a product of her doing. The more she thought about it, the more she came to realize that the other two hadn’t been awkward until she made it that way and it only made her feel even more awkward. It was a vicious cycle. Seconds felt like hours, but eventually Kendall was speaking up again, breaking the silence, and informing them that they were to get their shit together before she came back, a comment to which Sydney merely nodded in response to. Once the woman was out of the room, Sydney looked up sheepishly at MJ, offering a small smile. “I didn’t forget that you were coming... I just wasn’t expecting Kendall to be here last night. Or for her to still be here this late in the morning. I’m sorry,” she said softly, her gaze staying level with MJ’s.
MJ didn't feel as awkward as the two of them were making it out to be. In fact, she was over it. To feel awkward about this whole situation, she'd have to care some way or another. And she didn't. Not about who Kendall slept with, and not who Sydney slept with. She finally turned towards Sydney, though, when she was apologizing once again. "Don't worry about it," she shrugged. "I get it, and I really don't care. The more the merrier, right?" She plastered on a fake smile for Sydney, wanting her to be reassured. While Sydney easily could make her smile, right now wasn't one of those times. "I mean, I just wanted to give you some company.. and you found some. Nothing wrong with that."
Kendall's smile dropped as soon as she was out of the room. Why the hell had she stayed? She must've been more of a masochist than she originally thought, willingly subjecting herself to what she just knew would remain awkward one way or another. Gripping the edge of the sink until her knuckles turned white, dark eyes watched as the last remains of foam were washed away by the water, staring as if it had the answers she needed. Tough luck, for it remained as silent as expected. Finally forcing herself to walk back out, she stopped just outside Sydney's room, giving the other two a half smile. "I'm gonna go downstairs to make some coffee, since I assume there should be some, like in any normal household. Join me whenever, I'll be leaving after, I promise." And with that, she continued on her way downstairs, looking for coffee and tinkering with the coffeemaker to keep her mind entertained. Again, why had she stayed in the first place?
Sydney wrapped her arms around herself, something she had always done when she felt as though things weren’t going right, and took a step further into her room toward MJ. She knew the woman well enough to know when she was faking a smile - which was most of the time, when not directed toward herself. “She just...randomly showed up last night, MJ... Didn’t call or text or anything - I wasn’t going to just turn her away, you know?” she explained further, hoping the explanation would help her understand that while Kendall’s company was more than welcomed, it was MJ’s company that she had sought out in her time of need. MJ knew everything, now, and having someone around that understood was far and beyond more helpful that having someone around who was there solely as a distraction for her. Maybe in the future Kendall would be someone she actively looked for when she needed help out of a mess like this, but this time it was MJ and she felt infinitely bad that she had made it all into the awkward mess of a situation. A few moments later, Kendall was poking her head in the room, informing the two that she would be downstairs whenever hey were ready to join. “We’ll be right down,” Sydney responded, offering her a small smile before her attention turned back to MJ. “We’ll share breakfast with Kendall, and then we’ll get back to our plans, okay? Just us.”
MJ could tell that Sydney felt badly, and the last thing she wanted was to make her feel any more negative feelings than she already was. It wasn't that she was upset with the situation at hand, really. It was more of the fact that she had spent her night with Kendall while MJ spent it tossing and turning, worrying about her best friend. "You don't have to explain to me," MJ finally said after Kendall popped her head into the room momentarily. She took a step forward and pulled her into a hug - not something that she did very often, and Sydney was well aware of that. "I'm honestly just trying to make sure you're okay here, Sydney." Her words were quiet and against the blondes ear. She pulled back and gave her a small peck on the cheek, letting it linger for a moment. This kind of affection was uncharted territory for her, but she felt as if it was needed. "I'm not mad about Kendall, you know? She's one of the people that I like talking to, after you. The two people that I actually can stand are in the same house. It's not as terrible as you're making it out to be." MJ shrugged awkwardly. Not because of the situation, but because of the affection that she was showing. And with that, she made her way downstairs and found Kendall making coffee. "You sure do know how to make an entrance, Ken. Nothing like seeing your ass first thing in the morning."
Kendall
felt better by the time the coffee was slowly brewing. The awkwardness and feeling of unsettlement had all but washed away in between the menial task at hand, and the quiet muttering of numbers and percentages under her breath. It was a strange habit she had developed over the years, going over the family business' finances to quiet the rest of her mind. Hearing steps coming down the stairs, she didn't bother turning around, and the familiar teasing from MJ was a blessing in disguise. "See, don't say I never spoil you, princess." Throwing a wink over her shoulder, she started looking around the cupboards for mugs, depositing her bounty in front of her and pouring the steaming liquid. "And I have to say, it's always been a secret fantasy of mine to actually see your face in the morning. Different circumstances, but I can work with this too." Placing a mug in front of the brunette, she then went on search for sugar and cream, or at least milk while they waited for Sydney to make an appearance.
Sydney was a little thrown off by the somewhat unexpected hug from MJ, but she quickly melted into the familiar embrace. It wasn’t often that the other would initiate the hug, but by her own doing, they did hug pretty well every time they hung out, whether MJ wanted one or not. She was a bit of a cuddler - sue her. “I know you are,” she responded just as softly, her arms tightening slightly around MJ’s waist before she was pulling back and placing a kiss on her cheek - and action she smiled shyly at. She let the woman head downstairs and decided to stay back for a few moments to regain some mental stability. The awkwardness still lingered, at least for her, but as the minutes passed as she changed out of her pyjamas and into...well, another pair of sweats and a baggy t-shirt, and pulled her hair up into a messy bun, she could feel it fade away. At least Kendall was someone MJ could stand being around - this would’ve been far worse if it was...anyone else, really. Eventually, she made her way downstairs to join the two, smiling warmly as she entered the kitchen, seeing Kendall with a cup of coffee in her hand. “Oh, good! You figured out where the dishes are. I’m sure MJ was no help,” she teased, moving further into the kitchen to grab a few plates and heading toward the table to join the two.
MJ took the coffee from Kendall happily, even though she had already indulged in two mugs earlier this morning. One thing that MJ would never say no to was coffee. Without it, she'd most likely get kicked out of every single one of her classes for causing a disruption due to some kind of violence. More than usual, anyway. She quirked an eyebrow in curiosity at Kendall's words and couldn't help but smirk. The idea of seeing her in the morning due to having sex throughout the night excited her, but she kept that to herself. Thoughts like that weren't appropriate for this kind of setting, and even she was aware of that. When Sydney came into the room and made a remark about MJ being no help, she reached over and pushed her playfully. "It's not like I've been here enough times to know where everything is," she remarked with another roll of her eyes. She took a sip of her coffee, happy to be comforted by the warm liquid. She took the burritos out of the bags and placed them on the table. This actually wasn't terrible - which was surprising to her. Having the two of them around at the same time was comforting in an odd way.
Kendall watched the scene unfold before with a look of fondness in her eyes. As different as night and day as MJ and Sydney were, Ken was quickly becoming rather attached to both in ways she couldn't explain, and it was such a funny thing that both connections started based on sex. "Nope, not a good enough excuse, I've been here twice and this is the first time I've actually been inside the house. Try harder again next time." She teased MJ shamelessly, though it was obvious it wasn't with the intention to actually take a dig at her. She waited politely until they were both all set and seated before plopping down on a chair herself, the mere smell of food already making her senses perk up. Sydney had seen her eat, and she just hoped MJ wouldn't be too horrified by how quickly she could put away whatever was set in front of her. "I can't believe I'm going to say this, but even with the awkward episode upstairs, you are a godsend, Diabla."
Sydney had a playful glint in her eye when MJ nudged her and Kendall only added onto the teasing a moment later with her own comment. Glad to have the awkwardness put aside for the time being, she was glad to put the events that had transpired just a couple days prior to rest in her mind, and enjoy breakfast with her friends. Once seated, Sydney distributed the plates to each of them and grabbed a couple of the burritos. It wasn’t until she began to unwrap one and her stomach growled loudly that she realized she hadn’t eaten for the entirety of the day prior. There was a guilty feeling that settled inside of her as she sheepishly continued to open it and take a greedy bite, her eyes suddenly finding great interest in the table top rather than meeting anyone else’s gaze.
MJ wasn't one for small talk. Even when it came to the few people that she cared about, she didn't waste her time with filling the silence. She'd just rather not. Instead of talking, she'd constantly try to push thoughts of her uncle out of her head. No matter what she did and who she was with, he plagued her mind. More often than not, it made her feel sick to her stomach - causing her to forego any food that she would eat. However, when she was in front of others.. she'd eat, of course. Enough to then lie about the fact that she was no longer hungry. She enjoyed the company of the two girls, and let them talk among themselves as they already knew that she wasn't keen on making small talk. MJ finally made herself take a bite of the burrito, quickly washing it down with the coffee. All this time her eyes had been trained down towards her food, but she let her eyes wander over towards both Sydney and Kendall and she gave them a small smile around the coffee mug.
Kendall decided to play the blissfully oblivious role, concentrating on the food for the time being. The silence that had befallen the table wasn't awkward anymore, per se, but it felt a little off and Ken wasn't even sure she wanted to risk breaking the metaphorical ice herself. She liked both women sitting with her, but having to handle the both of them at the same time was proving to be a daunting task, and for once she found her mind completely lacking anything that could possibly make it better. Expression one of cool confidence that she definitely didn't feel at the moment, she kept looking from MJ to Sydney in between bites, wondering just what the hell was it that she had unknowingly disrupted with her impromptu visit last night.
Sydney continued to concentrate on the food for a few minutes until she realized there was a silence that had settled between them. If she had been anyone else, she wouldn't have felt as though it was an awkward one, but alas. She was still Sydney and Sydney liked to unknowingly make things even more awkward than necessary. "These are really good burritos," she muttered after finishing a rather large bite, finally glancing up at MJ and then Kendall. "They have no idea how to make good burritos in Atlanta. It's like the only spice that they know how to use is pepper. It's actually kinda gross."
MJ hadn't realized that she was the only one that was going to be keeping quiet. She rather the silence than anything else, so there were no complaints from her end of things. It was Sydney that finally broke the silence, of course, and MJ looked back over to her. Talking would stop her from eating.. so she decided to reply. "Mi madre loves this place. Authentic Mexican - except breakfast burritos aren't a real thing. Let's just say it's the closest you can get to the real thing, if there was one," she explained. Was this really the type of shit that they were going to be talking about? MJ wanted to cringe, but she kept it to herself. The situation at hand was an odd one, yes - but it wasn't that. She wasn't good in social situations due to her lack of patience, so she just sighed and pushed her plate farther way from her and made a mental note that she should probably eat later.
Kendall wanted to groan as the atmosphere between them started shifting again, it seemed that there was just no way around it, and as much as she liked Sydney and MJ, this was not something she could handle without eventually losing her mind and adding to the ridiculous tension. Having made her choice, she all but wolfed down the burrito, draining her mug a moment later. "While this is absolutely riveting in some twisted way, now I will really take my leave, my darlings." Picking up her plate and mug to take to the sink, she quickly rinsed them, then washed her hands, itching to get out of the stifling room. "I'll try to take the awkward with me on my way out." Ken said, turning back to the women still sitting at the table as she fiddled with the keys in her pocket. "Princess, thank you for breakfast, shoot me a call soon, yes?" Then her gaze fell on the blonde head. "And thank you for putting up with my less than appropriate visit, Syd, I'll find some way to repay the kindness, but for the time being..." She walked towards the entryway to the kitchen, making a split decision to leave her flask and hoodie behind, a fair price if it meant being able to breathe again, "Please, do try to shake off the weirdness. Have a great day, both of you, and thank you again." And with that, she all but ran out of the house.
Sydney could sense that Kendall was frustrated, simply by the way she practically inhaled her burrito and washed it down with what would've been still fairly hot coffee. The guilty feeling of not having eaten for an entire day had now shifted to feeling guilty about making thing weird again - this time knowing it was her own fault - and she was sure it was going to take quite a bit to shake it, this time around. "You don't have to repay anything..." her words were soft, barely audible, she was sure, but she let them linger there before Kendall was heading out. Sydney turned her attention to MJ, quirking up an eyebrow when she noticed that the plate was pushed away from her. "I made it weird, didn't I?"
MJ wasn't quite sure why the two of them were acting so off, as if someone had done something wrong. In all honestly, she was consumed by her own thoughts. When Kendall made her exit though, she returned her words with a simple smirk - she really didn't need to say much more than that, and Kendall knew that. When Sydney turned back towards her after Kendall made her exit, she realized that she was probably feeling something about the whole situation. MJ wasn't really able to read a room when it came to these things - but she did know Sydney. "I didn't think it was weird," MJ shrugged and took another sip of her coffee. "You said some awkward shit, yeah. But I don't think it's weird." She waved to the front door, where Kendall just was. "I don't know why she all but ran out the fucking door, but that's her business." MJ shrugged once more, locking eyes with Sydney. "I know she felt as if she was intruding, but honestly? That's what this shit felt like for me. You could've texted me last night that Kendall was taking my place for the day. I wouldn't have minded."
Sydney continued to pick away at her burrito, little by little, managing to finish it up as MJ spoke, eventually nudging the plate away from herself. “She wasn’t taking your place, though... She literally just...showed up here out of the blue and we ended up falling asleep,” Sydney said with a small shrug of her shoulders, folding her arms over her chest as she looked at MJ. Kendall seemed to think that she had overstepped and now MJ seemed to think that she was being...replaced, or something, with Kendall and it was all just a huge mess in her mind. It certainly didn’t help the guilt, either. “She doesn’t know about...me. I wanted you here, MJ. You weren’t being replaced with her; she just showed up outside of my house and we accidentally fell asleep when she was over.”
MJ leaned over and placed her hand on Sydney's leg, as if to tell her to calm down without saying anything. "I don't mean like that. I understand the situation at hand, Sydney. I know that she randomly showed up. I just meant if you had rather she be here today than me, after that." MJ shook her head. The conversation wasn't going anywhere. Instead of saying anything, she cleaned up the plates that were left behind and put the rest of the burritos in the refrigerator. There was no way she was going to be eating that anytime soon, but she wanted Sydney to have an easy breakfast - so that was perfect. "How about we just pretend like this morning never happened? Continuing to talk about this shit is giving me a headache." She paused, walking over to her and grabbing her hand to guide her back to her bedroom. "Let's just get in bed and you can talk, or not talk. Whatever the hell you want."
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